‘Excuse me? Who are you, exactly?’ Broderick asked.
‘Mrs Sedina, love. I rent the apartment. Well, not for much longer, I suppose. No-one’s going to be interested in renting a place where someone’s just topped themselves.’
‘What a tragedy for you, Mrs Sedina,’ Broderick remarked sarcastically.
‘But you think it might be murder now, do you?’
‘Just re-examining the scene for possible new insights, Mrs Sedina.’
‘Well that’s not going to help me rent it out, is it? I don’t know’ she said, with a raise of her heavy shoulders and the over projection of someone who was used to not being listened to. ‘First he hangs himself, now he’s been murdered.Why does everything always happen to me?!’
A further series of labyrinthine corridors finally led Sullivan to Professor Laytham’s office door, on which she knocked before entering. The office was empty. As she turned to leave, a set of framed photographs on the wall caught her eye.
She had never imagined Laytham to be a sporting sort of fellow, yet here he was in various athletic guises. Canoeing, parachuting, mountaineering. The picture of him holding a pick-axe atop a snow-covered mountain seemed to her a particularly intrepid shot.
‘The Eiger, 1989.’ Laytham’s voice startled Sullivan, making her jump. ‘Nearly lost a toe to frostbite. Managed to hack myself to the top, though.’
‘Impressive.’
‘Not really,’ Laytham remarked whilst lighting his pipe. Sullivan knew that smoking was prohibited within the hospital environs, but thought it best not to mention it to the avuncular pathologist. Besides she liked the aroma.
‘Sheer bloody lunacy, really’ Laytham continued. ’Makes you feel alive, though.’ His eyes lit up momentarily as he said the word. Not one he got to use that often in his line of work, Sullivan supposed. ‘You indulge in the sport yourself?’ Laytham asked.
‘Dabble. I’m more a leisure centre climbing wall sort of girl than an Alps hound.’
‘That’s impressive enough for me,’ the Professor remarked as he handed her a folder from his desk. ‘Nothing new here on re-examination, I’m afraid. Whatever Broderick may be brewing up, they both died from the result of hanging. Self-inflicted, in my opinion.’
‘Right. Well, thank you, Professor.’
‘Look, I hope you don’t think this unprofessional... but as a fellow climber, would you care for dinner sometime this week? We could exchange stories of peaks and troughs.’
Sullivan stayed silent for a few moments, rather taken aback.
‘Well, I, erm...’
‘Tomorrow night’s good for me. I could swing by the nick and pick you up, if you like.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘About eight, then? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a decapitated air conditioning salesman to attend to.’
Sullivan raised an eyebrow.
‘Hey ho,’ he added, before marching off jovially towards his cadaver laiden slab.
Broderick and Calbot exited Bryant’s flat by way of the kitchen door and surveyed the scene in the communal yard.
‘How did the killer get in?’ Calbot asked. ‘Neither the front or back doors of the apartment were forced. Maybe the killer was known to Bryant.’
Broderick lifted up a couple of small plant pots by the side of the door. The second pot revealed a key beneath it. ‘Heh. Not much of a challenge there for anyone looking to get in. So, if he got in this way, chances are...’
The pair moved across the yard to a gate which led onto a small side street running along the side of the apartment building.
‘He would have got out here, I suppose,’ Broderick observed. ‘Hello... what’s that?’ he added, spotting a small piece of blue cloth caught on a protruding nail on the back gate.
‘Wool,’ Calbot said. ‘Part of a jacket or something.’
‘Indeed. And this looks like dried blood on the gate handle to me.’
‘It’s been over a week, guv.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Weather’s been dry.’ Broderick studied the handle a little closer. ‘Yes, that’s definitely blood. So, our killer thought he had all the time in the world in there, then the fire alarm goes off and Bryant’s landlady comes a-knocking. Had to make a quick getaway, I suppose. Interesting...’ Broderick swung open the gate and the pair entered the narrow street.
‘The killer then gets into his car or motorbike and is away,’ Calbot suggested.
‘Or legs it. Check all the CCTV in the immediate area. See what they throw up.’
Calbot had returned to the gate to look once more at the blood stain.
‘You know, guv, if this is blood, I’m betting it belongs to Martin Tavares.’
‘Only one way to find out, Calbot. Let’s get forensics out here.’
14
The Marina Bar was buzzing that evening as Sullivan recounted her rendezvous with Professor Laytham to her fellow officer.
‘The dirty...’
‘What am I supposed to do, Calbot?’
‘Well, do you fancy him?’ Calbot asked a little too earnestly.
‘What do you think?’ she snapped, almost biting his head off.
‘Well, I think he’s quite well-preserved for a granddad. Maybe you like ‘em posh, eh?’ Calbot quipped. ‘Maybe a silver fox is just to the senorita’s taste, si?’
‘Oh you’re hilarious, aren’t you? For all you know, I might not like men at all.’
Calbot’s face dropped at this.
‘You’re not, are you?’
‘Not what?’ Sullivan asked in wide eyed innocence.
‘Not gay, I mean, and if you were...are...well that’s cool with me. I mean that would be great. Not a problem...your choice etc...’
Sullivan looked at her colleague pityingly.
‘You’re gabbling Calbot.’
‘Sorry, I just didn’t see that one coming’ Calbot stammered.
‘As it happens, I’m not gay, Calbot. But if I were, I’m sure it would be a great comfort for me to know that you’d wholeheartedly approve. Very modern of you’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Calbot exclaimed and took a much needed swig from his bottle of Sol.
‘But as for Laytham.’ Sullivan smiled. ‘I just don’t want to hurt his feelings. He is a sort of work colleague, after all. ’ Sullivan stood and looked down at her young companion.‘And let’s face it, men can get so unreasonable if they feel rejected, can’t they? Good night, Calbot.’
And with that, Sullivan left the table. Calbot watched her as she strode purposefully across the room. If her last comment had in any way been aimed at him, she’d been wrong. This particular man felt neither unreasonable nor rejected. Just a little miffed.
At the police headquarters, Broderick had decided to stay on and work late. Although he had a lot of work to catch up on, he could feel his eyelids drooping as he fought to stay awake. The ringing of the telephone jolted him back to consciousness. He picked it up.
‘Broderick. Uh-huh. Yeah, put her through.’ Broderick looked at his watch. He had known it it would be his sister. ‘You alright, Cath? Yeah, I’m sorry. Lost track of time completely. Girls all right? Yeah, okay. I’m on my way.’
He’d barely walked half the length of the corridor when Sergeant Aldarino accosted him in the doorway.
‘Sir?’
‘What is it, Aldarino?’
‘Sorry, sir,’ the sergeant started. ‘Could you stop off in South District? There’s been a request for CID. Woman found dead at home. I wouldn’t normally ask, sir, but we’re really overstretched.’
‘And it just so happens to be on my way home?’
The sergeant smiled in mock innocence.
‘Hadn’t crossed my mind, sir.’
Broderick sighed heavily. ‘Right. Where do I go?’