Hope to Die

He takes two strides to the flip chart and flicks over the top sheet. He was clearly in the office even earlier than I thought. I spot a smile curl Ev’s lips and see her nudge Baxter and mouth, ‘Here’s one I prepared earlier.’

QUESTIONS

1 WHY DIDN’T THE SWANNS CALL 999, IF NOT BEFORE THE SHOOTING, THEN AFTER?

NB 35 MIN DELAY BETWEEN WITNESS 999 CALL AND UNIFORM ATTENDING – PLENTY OF TIME FOR THEM TO CALL 999 THEMSELVES

2 WHY DID RS CHANGE HIS CLOTHES? (FOUND IN WASHING MACHINE)

3 HOW DID RS GET THE GUN FROM THE SAFE IN THE CELLAR WITHOUT INTRUDER NOTICING? (SEE FLOOR PLAN)

WAS THE GUN NOT IN THE SAFE? ← WHY NOT SAY THAT UPFRONT?

4 IF THE INTRUDER WAS THREATENING SWANN HOW DID HE END UP WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL?

Quinn turns and looks round the room. ‘Me and the boss interviewed Swann last night, but we didn’t get a satisfactory answer to any of these questions. As soon as we pressed him on the gun he clammed up and asked for a lawyer.’

Quinn’s clearly getting a head of steam on this, and he has a point – more than a point. But we can’t afford tunnel vision. But before I can say anything, Chloe Sargent pre-empts me. She’s the one on secondment from PVP. Petite and blonde and soft-spoken, but bright too, and a lot tougher than she looks. She’d have to be, not just in PVP, but working this job at all, with a surname like that.

‘I know it looks bad,’ she says. ‘I mean, none of us would act the way the Swanns did. But they aren’t police officers. They’re an old couple, in the dark, with a stranger in the house.’

‘They’re a bit odd too, if you ask me,’ says Ev, backing her up. ‘At least, based on what I saw last night. And very private. I bet they don’t get many visitors.’

‘Right,’ says Sargent. ‘I can easily see someone like Mr Swann panicking in those circumstances, but then it all goes wrong – the gun goes off and he panics again and makes things worse by trying to cover it up.’

I like the way she thinks. It’s almost like having Somer here. Almost.

‘There’s no way of knowing, DC Sargent,’ I say, seeing her blush slightly that I know her name. ‘And I have to say I’m as sceptical as DS Quinn right now. But – and this is important, people – even if the Swanns are their own worst enemy, it’s still quite possible they’re telling the truth, even if not the whole of it. As DC Sargent said, they’re elderly people in an isolated house with someone they don’t know – possibly armed – in their kitchen.’

‘You sound like a defence barrister,’ says Ev drily.

I turn to her. ‘Exactly. And that’s how we need to think. Unless and until.’

OK, I know, I do say that quite a lot. Ev’s not the only one trying not to smile.

I nod to Quinn. ‘Sorry, Sergeant. I interrupted.’

He looks up, checks his tablet. ‘Right, yeah, so, next up, Mrs Swann. She was interviewed at the scene by DC Everett, and basically claimed she was upstairs the whole time. But when Ev asked her why she’d stuck the old boy’s jim-jams in the wash she pulled a sicky, so we had her taken to the JR. Better safe than sorry blah blah blah.’

He turns to Ev. ‘Anything to add on that score?’

‘I rang the ward just now and they kept her in for observation,’ says Ev. ‘Not for the first time, by all accounts – apparently she’s been in there at least four times in the last eighteen months, though they were a bit cagey about telling me why without authorization. But I’ll check in again later and see if she’s up to talking. Though given the way she reacted last night, it might be best to send someone other than me. As in, a man with a badge. The bigger the better.’ She stops, smiles. ‘I mean the badge, obvs.’

There’s a flurry of laughter and Gis is grinning, but Quinn’s still playing it absolutely straight.

‘Right,’ he says. ‘So in terms of next steps, the PM is this morning, and we’re hoping for initial results on the forensics early this afternoon, and we also need to talk to the –’

OK, I think, time for me to intervene. To Gis’s immense credit, his face is completely impassive, but he knows as well as I do that we’re now straying well on to his turf.

‘Thank you, DS Quinn,’ I say, getting to my feet. ‘That was an excellent summary. DS Gislingham will now allocate tasks for today.’

I don’t wait around to referee the next bit. I have things to do, and Gis has been managing Quinn for months; it’s down to him now.

* * *

‘Ah, Ichabod Crane, I presume,’ says Colin Boddie, surveying the corpse. The body has been stripped and laid out on the table, but there’s only a scatter of teeth and skull fragments where his head should be. The recovered brain matter is on the trolley, a gravelly bright-red sludge in a gleaming stainless-steel basin.

The CSI technician glances up from the other end of the table. ‘You do know Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman are two different people, right?’