Poor bastard, said Dalziel. Any ID?
Havent been able to check, sir, said Ireland. Thought it best to disturb things as little as possible till SOCO had got their photos.
Theres a car parked round the back of the house, said Bonnick. Blue Laguna estate, registered owner Mr Palinurus Maciver, whos also the designated keyholder of the property, so it seems likely
Lets not jump the gun, if youll pardon the expression, said Dalziel. Dr Lockridge, how do? What can you tell us?
Tom Lockridge had emerged from the room. He didnt look well.
Hes dead, said Lockridge.
Dont reckon youre going to get any argument there, said Dalziel, peering towards the shattered figure. But its always good to have these things confirmed by an expert. Saves us laymen wasting time with the kiss of life. You wouldnt like to give us just a bit of detail, but, Doc?
Not long dead, intoned Lockridge dully. Two to four hours, maybe. Cause of death, probably self-inflicted gunshot wounds to the head
Probably?
You wont know for certain till the pathologist has taken a look, will you? said Lockridge, sparking slightly.
Wont know what? That they killed him or that they were self-inflicted?
What? Both. Either. They look to be self-inflicted. He took his shoe and sock off
Why do you think that was?
I presume so he could pull the shotgun trigger with his toe.
What? Both. Either. They look to be self-inflicted. He took his shoe and sock off
Why do you think that was?
I presume so he could pull the shotgun trigger with his toe.
Youre a bugger for presumptions, Doc. Mebbe he were a freemason. Didnt notice an apron, did you?
This was a facetious callosity too far, thought Pascoe.
Lockridge evidently thought so too.
Mr Dalziel, he said very formally, as a doctor, I know the therapeutic value of gallows humour, but I still find your tone offensive. I hope you will take pains to control it before you break the sad news to Mr Macivers relations.
Mr Maciver? Thats Mr Maciver, is it? How can you tell?
They all stared towards the shattered head.
I dont know I just assumed, with him going missing Yes, Im sure its Pal I used to be his doctor, you see.
Is that right? So how about distinguishing marks? Something that ud spare us having to give his nearest and dearest a close-up of that?
He does did does have a distinct naevus at the base of his spine.
Naevus? Like in Ben Naevus, you mean?
Birthmark, explained Pascoe, he knew unnecessarily.
Oh aye. But youve not taken a look?
No. I assumed youd want the body left as undisturbed as possible till your SOCO people had finished in there.
SOCO? You think theres been a crime then, Doc?
I know theres been a suspicious death. Now, if youll excuse me, Ill be on my way. Youll have my report as soon as possible.
He started to peel off the protective overall but Dalziel said, Hang about, Doc. Do us a favour. Just pop back in there and check out yon naevus thing, just sos we can be sure.
For a moment Lockridge looked as though he might refuse, then he turned, went back into the room, pulled the dead mans shirt-tail out of his trousers, peered down for a moment, then returned.
Its him, he said shortly. Can I go now?
He didnt wait for an answer but removed his overall and hurried away down the stairs.
Bit pale round the gills, werent he? said Dalziel. And he didnt even tuck the poor sods shirt back in.
He knew the guy. Bound to be a bit of a shock, seeing him dead, said Pascoe.
Dont be daft. Hes a doctor. Spends his life looking at dead folk that were alive on his last visit. Show me a quack whos not used to it and Ill pay hard cash to get on his panel.
Perhaps he was a friend as well as a patient.
Former patient. Aye, that might do it. Someone you think you know tops himself, it makes you wonder about all the other buggers you think you know.
Tops himself? Getting a bit ahead of the game, arent you, sir? said Pascoe.
Thats how you win matches, lad. Any road, door locked and bolted on the inside. Windows with the kind of shutters that ud keep a tax inspector out. Gun between his legs, shoe and sock off. Lots of little hints there, Id say.
Nevertheless, said Pascoe obstinately.
Oh God, you been at the John Dickson Carr again? What more do you want?
A note would be nice, for a start.
A note, eh? Any sign of a note, Paddy?
Inspector Ireland let out a long-suffering sigh. The fact that he was a teetotal Baptist born in Heckmondwyke and able to trace his ancestry back a hundred and fifty years without any sign of Irish blood hadnt saved him from being nicknamed Paddy, and the more he protested, the more he found himself treated as a fount of knowledge on all matters Eireann.
Names Cedric, he said. Couldnt say. I followed procedure and kept out to minimize the risk of contamination.
But youve been inside, Sergeant, and Ive no doubt Tweedledum and Tweedledee went clumping all over the place.
Yes, sir, said Bonnick. Didnt see a note though.
Pity, said Dalziel. There ought to be something
To confirm its suicide, you mean? said Pascoe triumphantly.
No, said the Fat Man irritably. In fact, if you studied your statistics youd know that seventy per cent of genuine suicides dont leave a note, while ninety-seven per cent of fakes do Hang about. Not a note. A book! Now I recall. There ought to be a book. Isnt that a book on the desk, Sergeant?
Yes, sir, said Bonnick, surprised. There is a book.
Didnt notice what it was, did you?
No, sir. Got a bit splattered with blood and stuff. Youd need to scrape it off first.
Not squeamish, are you? Doesnt come well from a sergeant, squeaming.
Just following procedure, sir, touching as little as possible till the scenes been examined.
Which will be when? You did give SOCO the right address, didnt you, Paddy?
Of course I did, Ireland assured him, looking offended.
Three things were troubling Pascoe. One was the suspicion that the Fat Man had just invented the suicide note statistics. The second was his apparent power of precognition. There ought to be a book. And lo! there was a book!
The third was the still unanswered question of why the hell he was here at all. Off duty, what had there been in a shout to a possible suicide to bring him hurrying from the comfort of his fireside? Even the fact that his inamorata, Cap Marvell, was away at present didnt explain that.
His speculations were interrupted by noises below. Fearful that Cressida had led an assault, he peered over the balustrade and saw to his relief that the SOCO team had finally arrived. They paused to pull on their white coveralls and then came up the stairway.
About bloody time, said Dalziel. Dont be all night at it, will you? And try not to leave a mess.
He set off down the stairs. Pascoe hurried to catch up with him.
Sir, he said. Do I take it youre assuming control of this case?
Me? Simple suicide? Nay, lad, you got here first, youre the man in charge.
In that case, theres a couple of questions Id like to ask you
Not now, lad, not when theres a poor woman out there waiting to be told shes a widow, reproved the Fat Man.
So saying, he pulled open the front door, bounced Maycock aside with his belly and stepped out into the night.
11
Out here, the mist was in total control. It gave bulk while it removed substance. Somewhere in the wooded garden, an owl uttered a long wavering screech that made Pascoes nape hair prickle.
Helen and Jason had got back into the Volvo, Ellie was talking to Cressida alongside the Spider, and Kay Kafka was standing to one side with a mobile to her ear.
Wheres the wife gone? said Dalziel.
I dont know, said Pascoe. But as Im in charge, I think I ought to be the one who breaks the news.
Meaning, until he knew different, this was a suspicious death and everyone connected with the dead man was a suspect.
You reckon? Sometimes these things are better coming from a more sensitive and mature figure, said Dalziel. Where the hells the daft tart got to anyway?
Pascoe spotted a movement in the front seat of the Audi that had been parked outside the house when he first arrived. Its headlights came on and the engine started as he peered towards it. The front passenger door opened and Sue-Lynn got out. The car pulled away and he recognized Tom Lockridges profile as it went past.
I think the doctor may have saved us the bother, he said. He cant have heard of your sensitive bedside manner.
Dont know how. Its famous in three counties
the county court, the county jail and the County Hotel, Pascoe concluded the old joke. He watched as the Fat Man advanced to meet the approaching woman and heard him say in a gently melancholy voice, Mrs Maciver, Tom Lockridge has told you the dreadful news, has he? Im so sorry.
She looked as if she didnt believe him and said, Can I see my husband now?
Soon, said Dalziel. Come on inside and lets find you somewhere to sit for a bit
He started leading her towards the house.
Pascoe said, Sir, a quick word.
Excuse me, luv, said Dalziel.
He stepped aside with Pascoe and said in an irritated tone, What?
You cant take her inside, sir.
Why the hell not?
Until we can confirm suicide, the whole house is a crime scene, and you dont escort a principal suspect on to a crime scene.
Principal suspect? You crazy or what, lad?
Just quoting you, sir. SD+SS=PS, thats what youre always drumming into the DCs, isnt it? Suspicious death + surviving spouse = prime suspect. Sir.
Keep your voice down! Youll be getting us all sued. What did you have in mind then? Take her down the nick and shine a bright light into her eyes?
Over Dalziels huge shoulder Pascoe saw that Cressida and Kay had advanced to confront Sue-Lynn with Ellie not far behind.
Whats happening? Cressida demanded. What have they told you?
Sue-Lynn said, Hes dead.
Oh Jesus. What happened? How?
He shot himself. Just like your pa.
Shot himself? In there? When? cried Kay.
What the hell does it matter when? exploded Cressida. Just now. Ten years ago. Thats two down. Are you done now, bitch?
Cressida, Im so sorry, Im truly deeply sorry this is dreadful, dreadful
Of the three women, it was Kay Kafka who looked the most genuinely distressed, observed Pascoe. The emotion that twisted Cressidas face was anger, while Sue-Lynns features were mask-like which might be the result of shock or just the glazing effect of her complex make-up.
Jason Dunn was out of his car now, once more torn between his eagerness to join the group and find out what was going on and his desire to help his wife, who was also trying to re-emerge from the Volvo.