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Authors: Bill Kitson
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she’d a degree in pathology and didn’t mind the stench of a corpse that’s been dead over four days in a warm room, having been bludgeoned to death. And if that was the case I’d be pleased to take her up on her kind offer. Failing that I expect Professor Ramirez here ASAP.’
Clara shook her head. ‘And some people say you’re sarcastic. I just don’t understand it.’
‘I agree the timescale was a guess, but it would tally with what was said about the noise.’ As they were talking, Nash’s mobile chirped to signal an incoming call. He glanced at the screen. ‘Netherdale General,’ he told her.
‘Thank you so much for your help,’ he told the caller. His tone was sweet, but Clara knew he was still angry. ‘That was our helpful secretary again.’ He placed the phone in his pocket. ‘Apparently Professor Ramirez will join us in an hour’s time. I suppose we should be eternally grateful for that.’
‘What do we do in the meantime? Sit here, or go back in?’
Nash didn’t hesitate. ‘We’ll wait here until somebody arrives. Either SOCO or Mexican Pete. No point in trampling all over the place. In any case, I don’t fancy spending any longer in that flat than absolutely necessary, do you?’
That question was purely rhetorical, Clara knew. ‘Shall I ring the station? Ask them to send a couple of uniforms to stand outside looking useful.’
Nash nodded approval.
The wait was tedious, their boredom broken only by the arrival of the uniformed men, who taped off the outside area and escorted the distraught neighbour to a waiting taxi. She had refused to set foot in the patrol car. Eventually, after Nash had received a message from SOCO to say they’d been delayed, he suggested they went back inside. ‘I really want to get another look at the crime scene before the forensics guys start messing it up. You can stay out here if you prefer.’
‘What about protocol? I’d far rather stay out here,’ Clara admitted, ‘but that’s not what I’m paid for. If you can put up with it, so can I.’
Their second inspection of the scene was no less of an ordeal, more so if anything, because now they’d time to take in more. Eventually, Nash gave the signal to retreat, much to Mironova’s relief. Once outside, they stripped off the overshoes and nylon suits.
Nash stood by the car making notes on an A4 pad. He was using the bonnet of the vehicle as an improvised desk. He glanced up. ‘Now, tell me what you saw in there, and what conclusions you drew from it. Let’s see how it tallies with what I’ve got written down. Start in the lounge.’
‘The place had been ransacked. Whether that was pure vandalism or the killer was searching for something, I can’t be sure, but I’d go for the latter.’
Nash nodded agreement. ‘Anything else, before you move on?’
She thought hard, but failed to come up with anything. ‘Think, Clara,’ he urged, ‘it’s important.’
She visualized the lounge, the contents of drawers and cupboards strewn about, the ripped cushions, the spilled fillings. About the only things left untouched were the TV set and … ‘Thelamp!’ she exclaimed triumphantly. ‘The lamp was switched on.’
‘That tells us the killer was in the flat during the hours of darkness. Which, going by what you were told, probably means Thursday night. Hopefully, Mexican Pete will be able to confirm that, if he ever turns up. Now, given the state of the kitchen, anything strike you about that?’
‘There were footprints on the floor. They came from the kitchen, but they didn’t go towards the bedroom. They led towards the exit. From that I’d guess the killer searched the kitchen last, after he’d been through the other rooms.’
‘Good point, and from that I think we can assume that the killer didn’t begin searching until Nattrass was dead. In other words, the motive wasn’t anything to do with the tenant disturbing a burglar. Now, the bedroom?’
Clara repressed a shudder.
Clara shook her head. ‘And some people say you’re sarcastic. I just don’t understand it.’
‘I agree the timescale was a guess, but it would tally with what was said about the noise.’ As they were talking, Nash’s mobile chirped to signal an incoming call. He glanced at the screen. ‘Netherdale General,’ he told her.
‘Thank you so much for your help,’ he told the caller. His tone was sweet, but Clara knew he was still angry. ‘That was our helpful secretary again.’ He placed the phone in his pocket. ‘Apparently Professor Ramirez will join us in an hour’s time. I suppose we should be eternally grateful for that.’
‘What do we do in the meantime? Sit here, or go back in?’
Nash didn’t hesitate. ‘We’ll wait here until somebody arrives. Either SOCO or Mexican Pete. No point in trampling all over the place. In any case, I don’t fancy spending any longer in that flat than absolutely necessary, do you?’
That question was purely rhetorical, Clara knew. ‘Shall I ring the station? Ask them to send a couple of uniforms to stand outside looking useful.’
Nash nodded approval.
The wait was tedious, their boredom broken only by the arrival of the uniformed men, who taped off the outside area and escorted the distraught neighbour to a waiting taxi. She had refused to set foot in the patrol car. Eventually, after Nash had received a message from SOCO to say they’d been delayed, he suggested they went back inside. ‘I really want to get another look at the crime scene before the forensics guys start messing it up. You can stay out here if you prefer.’
‘What about protocol? I’d far rather stay out here,’ Clara admitted, ‘but that’s not what I’m paid for. If you can put up with it, so can I.’
Their second inspection of the scene was no less of an ordeal, more so if anything, because now they’d time to take in more. Eventually, Nash gave the signal to retreat, much to Mironova’s relief. Once outside, they stripped off the overshoes and nylon suits.
Nash stood by the car making notes on an A4 pad. He was using the bonnet of the vehicle as an improvised desk. He glanced up. ‘Now, tell me what you saw in there, and what conclusions you drew from it. Let’s see how it tallies with what I’ve got written down. Start in the lounge.’
‘The place had been ransacked. Whether that was pure vandalism or the killer was searching for something, I can’t be sure, but I’d go for the latter.’
Nash nodded agreement. ‘Anything else, before you move on?’
She thought hard, but failed to come up with anything. ‘Think, Clara,’ he urged, ‘it’s important.’
She visualized the lounge, the contents of drawers and cupboards strewn about, the ripped cushions, the spilled fillings. About the only things left untouched were the TV set and … ‘Thelamp!’ she exclaimed triumphantly. ‘The lamp was switched on.’
‘That tells us the killer was in the flat during the hours of darkness. Which, going by what you were told, probably means Thursday night. Hopefully, Mexican Pete will be able to confirm that, if he ever turns up. Now, given the state of the kitchen, anything strike you about that?’
‘There were footprints on the floor. They came from the kitchen, but they didn’t go towards the bedroom. They led towards the exit. From that I’d guess the killer searched the kitchen last, after he’d been through the other rooms.’
‘Good point, and from that I think we can assume that the killer didn’t begin searching until Nattrass was dead. In other words, the motive wasn’t anything to do with the tenant disturbing a burglar. Now, the bedroom?’
Clara repressed a shudder.
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