"Where?" Kincaid barked at her. "Show us."
She turned and started up the stairs, stumbling and grabbing the banister for support. As soon as Kincaid saw where she was going, he shot past her, and Gemma followed, taking the steps two at a time, leaving Cullen to help the woman.
But Kincaid came to a dead stop at the door of Dominic Scott's apartment, and Gemma almost cannoned into his back.
"Oh, Christ," he said, stepping slowly into the room, and without his body as a shield, Gemma saw what he had seen.
Dominic Scott hung from the beam in his sitting-room ceiling. A rope made of neckties was knotted round his neck, and a chair lay on its side beneath him. He wore jeans and a dress shirt, unbuttoned, and his feet were bare. His handsome face was purple, suffused with congestion, and his open eyes had the opaque flatness that belonged only to the dead.
There was a terrible smell, and urine dripped from inside the leg of his jeans onto the carpet.
"Can't you do something?" wailed Ellen Miller-Scott, and Gemma realized that she had come in behind them, and that Cullen was trying to restrain her and dial his mobile at the same time. Gemma put her arm round the woman so that Doug could release her.
Dominic's mother turned to her, pleading, "Can't you get him down? Please? I tried, but I couldn't-"
Gemma met Kincaid's eyes and tightened her hold. "Mrs. Miller-Scott. Ellen. I'm sorry, but I'm very much afraid it's too late."
CHAPTER 19
January 1945
Wednesday, 17th
Oranges in Notting Hill today.
– Vere Hodgson, Few Eggs and No Oranges: The Diaries of Vere Hodgson, 1940-1945
While Gemma restrained Ellen Miller-Scott, Kincaid took Cullen aside and asked him to ring for the pathologist and SOCOs.
"Right, guv," said Cullen. Then he added in a whisper that carried, nodding in the direction of Dom Scott's body, "But how likely is it that someone did that to him?"
Kincaid gave him a quelling glance and shook his head, but Gemma knew what he was thinking. It wouldn't be the first time they'd seen it happen, someone strangled, then strung up to make it look like a suicide.
Ellen Miller-Scott pulled away from Gemma. "What do you mean, a crime scene? You can't think-Dom-" She looked at her son's body and took a heaving breath.
"Mrs. Miller-Scott, let's get you downstairs." Ellen Miller-Scott was definitely not going to fail a hearing test, Kincaid thought. "Doug, will you wait for reinforcements?"
Gemma didn't think Cullen looked terribly thrilled at the prospect, but he nodded and pulled out his phone.
But it wasn't until the ambulance team had arrived, shaken their heads and said, "Not our job, guv'nor," that Gemma and Kincaid managed to get a protesting Ellen Miller-Scott downstairs and into her white sitting room.
The bold splashes of color in the paintings on the white walls seemed garish and somehow indecent after what they had seen upstairs. "I don't want to leave him," Ellen said again, looking back towards the stairs.
Gemma guided her to a spot on the sofa, deliberately positioning her so that the front hall was out of her view, while Kincaid pulled up an occasional chair so he could look at her directly.
"Mrs. Miller-Scott-Ellen-I know your son was upset over Kristin Cahill's death," he said. "But was there anything else troubling him?"
Ellen Miller-Scott rubbed hard at the fingers of her left hand with her right, as if she might peel the skin off. Shock and distress had left her looking her age, and Gemma could see the imperfections in her skin that makeup had covered on their first meeting.
"He-There were men, wanting money," Ellen said. "Dom had had some problems with drugs since, oh, since school. Prescription stuff, mostly. You know, he injured his knee at football, and then it was difficult for him to stop the pills. I'm sure it happens all the time." Even now, it sounded as if it were hard for her to admit. "And I-I didn't like people threatening him, but this time I decided that it had to stop, that he would never get better if I helped him. But I never thought-What if-" Her face contorted in a sob, and turned, looking again at the doorway.
It seemed to Gemma that the human need to keep watch over the dead was beyond reason-rooted in the knowledge that once the loved ones left your sight, they were lost to you forever. She couldn't imagine how she would feel if it were Kit or Toby.
Just as quickly as that thought flickered across her mind, she tried to shut it out-you couldn't do the job if you saw your own family in every victim. But because she had known Dom Scott, she was more vulnerable. Her mind strayed to her own mum. How hard must it be for her mother, who worried about her, not to tell her so? And now that their roles were reversed, could she do as well?
Kincaid's gentle voice drew Gemma's attention back to Ellen. "You can't think that your decision had any bearing on your son's actions," he said. "You did what any parent might have done."
"But-What if-" Ellen went back to rubbing at her fingers, her eyes blank.
"What about this morning, Ellen?" asked Gemma. "Did you talk to Dom this morning?"
Ellen gave Gemma a startled glance, as if she'd forgotten her presence, although Gemma sat near enough to touch. "I-We had a row," she said, haltingly. "There was a company meeting and he didn't want-Dom was always-I told him to get ready whether he wanted to go or not, that he couldn't spend the rest of his life moping over that girl."
Gemma saw Kincaid's eyes widen, but Ellen didn't seem to realize she'd said anything offensive.
"I took a shower," she said, "thinking he'd cool off, be reasonable about it, but when I went back upstairs-He was-I couldn't-" She put a hand over her mouth, then wailed, "Oh, dear God. I can't believe it. He can't be dead-Dom-"
"You did the right thing, ringing for help," Kincaid assured her hurriedly, and Gemma hoped Cullen had called for a family liaison officer. They couldn't leave her on her own when she was this distraught. "Ellen," Kincaid went on. "I know this is difficult, but we need to ask you some things. You said Dominic was upset about Kristin Cahill's death. Did he talk to you about Harry Pevensey?"
"Who?" Ellen looked bewildered.
"Harry Pevensey. The man who was killed yesterday. Did Dom not tell you?"
"I don't understand. Who was he?" She looked utterly bewildered. "What do you mean, he was killed?"
"Someone ran him down. Just like Kristin Cahill," said Gemma.
"But-What does that have to do with Dom?"
Kincaid leaned forward. "That's what we were hoping you could tell us. Harry Pevensey put a brooch up for sale at Harrowby's through Kristin Cahill. And it was Dom who introduced them."
"A brooch?" Ellen Miller-Scott fastened on the word. "Dom wouldn't-Dom didn't know what a brooch was. He had no interest in art, or collecting"-her gaze strayed to the paintings-"or any of the things our family-my father-had worked so hard to achieve. The business-" She shook her head. "Dom just couldn't seem to learn the simplest things. My father-I'm glad he didn't live to see this-"
Gemma stared at her, reminding herself that people who were in shock often said things they didn't mean, but that didn't stop her feeling a wave of revulsion for the woman sitting beside her.
"So Dom never spoke to you about Har-" Kincaid had begun, when the sound of voices came from the front door.
Doug Cullen came in, saying, "Guv, the pathologist is here. It's Dr. Ling. She's gone straight up. And family liaison's here as well."