‘Probably a .22, but we’ll know for sure at the post mortem.’
Brownlow sighed. ‘How the hell did someone get a gun onto a plane?’
‘More to the point, how did the killer fire it without anyone noticing?’
‘What? Nobody?’
‘We’ve done a preliminary canvassing of the first class passengers and the cabin crew. No one saw or heard anything.’ Meadows checked her notebook. ‘The deceased was last seen alive at around 4am, our time. One of the flight attendants says she saw him go to the loo,’ she nodded towards the rear of the cabin, ‘then return to his suite. The body was discovered around 6:10.’
‘So, at some point in a two-hour window, a man was shot in an enclosed space filled with people without anyone hearing a sound.’ He shook his head. ‘How many passengers does one of these things carry? Five hundred plus? That’s a hell of a lot of suspects.’
‘Not that many, actually. Check this out.’ Meadows led the way to the front of the cabin. The two aisles met at the bottom of the stairs to the super-jumbo’s upper deck. The entrance to the cockpit ahead of it was open. She pointed up at the ceiling. ‘There’s a CCTV camera there to watch the cockpit door, but it also covers the stairs. There’s another camera back past the galley, so they can see if anyone messes around with the cabin hatches during the flight. The economy section starts behind it.’ She gestured through the cockpit entrance. ‘I talked to the airline’s representative earlier — all the camera footage is recorded on a hard drive. Timecoded, too. They’re couriering a copy over to the Yard.’
‘Have you looked at it?’
‘Yeah — the quality’s not great, but it’s enough to see who’s coming or going. We’ll obviously need to confirm by watching the full thing, but I had a gander in fast-forward. Between four and six-ten, nobody went up or down the stairs, and after Perch came back from the loo nobody went any further back down the plane than the galley, and then only the cabin staff.’
‘So the killer was someone in first class.’ Brownlow ran his fingertips through his bristling salt-and-pepper hair. ‘And the gun must be here too — it’s not like they could toss it out of a window.’ He noticed the young woman’s expression. ‘Let me guess. No sign of the gun?’
‘Not yet. The Evidence Recovery Unit boys are searching the cabin. We’re going to check the cases in the terminal once we’ve done full interviews with everyone in first class.’
‘What about the economy and business passengers?’
‘Everyone’s being searched as a precaution. We’ve already found a couple of minor drugs and customs violations, but no gun so far. They haven’t been allowed to collect their carry-on luggage yet.’
‘Have it all checked, just in case. The CCTV might have missed someone moving between the cabins.’
Meadows gave him a grim smile. ‘That’s a lot of bags. Tough luck for passenger number five hundred.’
‘Tougher luck for passenger 1A.’ Brownlow gestured towards Perch’s suite. ‘But yeah, we’ll focus on the first class passengers, and the crew. How many in total?’
‘Eleven passengers, three attendants — in the timeframe we’re talking about, anyway. Some of the crew from the other parts of the plane probably came through first class during the flight.’
Brownlow nodded. ‘Interview all the crew, but focus on the three first class stewardesses.’
‘I think they prefer to be called flight attendants.’
‘And I think Perch preferred to be called alive. Okay, let’s get started.’
The two officers headed back through first class. More crime scene examiners were searching the cabin, cataloguing every item they found. Bins were carefully emptied, their plastic linings turned inside-out to make sure nothing remained stuck within. Brownlow glanced hopefully at the contents of one, but saw only discarded plastic and paper wrappings, tissues, toiletries and makeup — no gun.
They crossed through the galley. Meadows gave the empty champagne bottles lined up on a countertop an envious look. She wagged a finger to count them as she passed. ‘Twelve passengers, and dah dah dah… seventeen bottles of bubbly. On one twelve-hour flight.’
Brownlow chuckled. ‘Talk about murder on the Orient excess.’
The interviews with the first class passengers and cabin staff were conducted in a spartan meeting room inside the terminal building. The trio of flight attendants, all young women, were dealt with first, giving the two detectives an overview of the journey as well as insight into the interactions of the passengers. All three stories seemed to corroborate. Then came the passengers themselves.
Brownlow flicked back through his notes as he waited for the last of the eleven to be brought in. All were wealthy, but at ten grand a ticket that was hardly surprising. He mentally matched the stewardesses’ descriptions to his own impressions.
Edward and Laura Frobisher: British, couple, ages 56 and 51. High court barrister and doctor respectively, returning from a holiday in Thailand. Drank too much, and fell asleep quite early in the flight. The wife read Perch’s newspaper but claimed she’d had no idea that he was its editor; the husband had heard of him, but read the Telegraph. Neither seemed shocked by the murder, but in their lines of work they would probably have dealt with death before.
Lew Perrault: Canadian, male, age 35. Executive of an internet company, travelling on business. Chatty, if a little pushy. Fell asleep watching a movie on his laptop, so we turned it off and closed his blinds. Claimed never to have heard of Perch, but knew of his paper’s online operations. Had an attitude of cool detachment to the affair.
Sun Wai Hong: Chinese, male, age 49. Executive of a Chinese car company, trying to set up import deals in Singapore, Thailand and Europe. Had an early dinner, then fell asleep soon after. We hardly saw him during the flight. Didn’t understand much English, but eventually claimed never to have heard of Perch or his newspaper. More bothered about his meeting being delayed than someone being murdered across the aisle from him.
Klet Ratanakuclass="underline" Thai, male, age 57. Director of an electronics manufacturing firm, visiting Britain, France and Germany on business. Lecherous, but kept his hands to himself, and slept through most of the flight. Claimed never to have heard of Perch or his newspaper. Arrogant, kept talking about how much money he had until he was gently reminded that attempting to bribe a police officer was a serious offence in Britain.
Som Niratpattanasai: Thai, male, age 26. Son of a wealthy businessman, visiting England for a holiday. Very nervous about flying, but otherwise sweet, polite and undemanding. Claimed never to have heard of Perch or his newspaper. Seemed quite stunned by the whole business.
Peter Lewis: British, male, age 50. Owner of a machine tools manufacturing firm, returning from Thailand on business. A nice man at first, but became a pest after a few drinks; we were glad when he fell asleep. Claimed to have met Perch once before at a Conservative Association dinner and briefly chatted with him again in the airport lounge, but didn’t speak to him during the flight. His company had been mentioned in the paper’s business section a few times. Appeared to regard the murder more with disbelief than anything.
William Jarnow: British, male, age 47. Director of an industrial chemical supply firm, returning from Thailand on business. A bad passenger: rude, demanding, and kept others awake with constant Skype calls until asked to stop. Claimed never to have heard of Perch; didn’t read ‘tabloid rubbish’. As short-tempered with the police as he had been with the cabin crew.