Cold is the Grave

by Peter Robinson

  ‘I see what you mean,’ she said when they had both gone to stand outside the toilet again. ‘Poor cow. What do you think happened?’

  ‘It looks as if someone got in there with her and beat the living shit out of her, but that doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘No,’ said Annie. ‘There’s hardly enough room for one, let alone space to swing a few punches.’

  ‘And the stall was locked,’ Banks added. ‘I suppose she could have been beaten elsewhere, then crawled inside and locked it herself before she died, maybe in a vain attempt to keep her attacker out . . .’ He shrugged. It seemed a pretty thin thesis. Even if she had locked herself in there to escape a beating, how had she ended up arched crabwise over the toilet? It was the most unusual body position Banks had ever seen, and though he had a glimmer of an idea about what might have caused it, he needed the expert knowledge of a doctor. ‘We’ll have to wait for the doc. Ah, speak of the devil.’

  Dr Burns walked across the dance floor and greeted them. ‘Where is she?’ he asked.

  Banks pointed towards the ladies’. ‘Try not to disturb things too much. We haven’t got photographs yet.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’ Burns passed under the tape.

  ‘Call the SOCOs and the photographer,’ Banks said to Annie. He gestured towards Rickerd and lowered his voice. ‘DC Rickerd phoned me, and I wanted to be certain we really had a crime on our hands before making a hue and cry.’

  ‘What about the people in the club?’

  ‘Nobody leaves. Including the bar staff. Chris Jessup’s lads have instructions to keep them all where they are. There’s no telling how many left between the boyfriend’s phone call and Jessup’s arrival, though.’

  ‘It’s still early for this kind of place,’ said Annie. ‘People would be more likely to be arriving than leaving.’

  ‘Unless they’d just killed someone. Ask one of the uniforms to take everyone’s name and address.’

  Annie turned to go.

  Banks called after her. ‘And Annie?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Be prepared for one of the biggest shitstorms that’s ever come your way as a copper.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the victim’s Emily Riddle, the chief constable’s daughter.’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ said Annie.

  ‘Exactly.’

  Annie went off to attend to her duties while Banks collared Darren Hirst, the boy who had found the body. He seemed still in shock, trembling, tears in his eyes. Banks could understand that, having seen Emily’s body himself. He had seen many forms of death in his years as a policeman, and though he never quite got inured to it, he certainly had an advantage over the boy. Leaving a uniformed constable guarding the entrance to the toilet, Banks led Darren to an empty table. The club’s manager hovered nearby, clearly wanting to know what was going on but not daring to ask. Banks waved him over.

  ‘What time did you open tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘Ten o’clock. It starts slow. We don’t usually get much of a crowd until after eleven.’

  ‘Has this place got surveillance cameras?’

  ‘On order.’

  ‘Great. Bar still open?’

  ‘The other policeman said I shouldn’t serve any more drinks,’ he said.

  ‘Quite right, too,’ said Banks, ‘but this lad’s had a bit of a shock and I can’t say I’ve had a pleasant surprise, either, so bring us a couple of double brandies, will you?’

  ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to drink on duty.’

  ‘Just bring the drinks.’

  ‘All right, mate. No need to get shirty.’ The manager strode off. When he came back, he plonked the drinks down on the table. The measures looked small, but Banks paid him anyway.

  ‘When can I go home?’ the man asked. ‘Only if we’re not serving drinks, we’re not making any money, see, and there’s not a lot of point staying open.’

  ‘You’re not open,’ said Banks. ‘And if I get much more of that crap out of you, you won’t be opening again in the foreseeable future. There’s a dead girl in your toilets, in case you hadn’t heard.’

  ‘Fucking drug addicts,’ he muttered as he stalked away.

  ‘All right, Darren,’ said Banks when the manager was out of earshot. ‘Like to tell me what happened?’ He lit a cigarette. Darren refused his offer of one. The brandy was poor quality, but its bite put a bit of warmth back in Banks’s veins.

  ‘She said she wasn’t feeling well,’ Darren began, after a sip of brandy. A little colour crept back into his cheeks.

  ‘Back up a bit,’ said Banks. ‘How well did you know her? Was she your girlfriend?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I mean, I know her, like, in the group. We were just friends, that’s all. We all hang out together. She’s a bit weird and wild, is Emily, but she can be a lot of fun. We started in the Cross Keys, down Castle Hill.’

  ‘I know it.’

  ‘After that we just walked around town a bit and dropped in for a quick drink at the Queen’s Arms. Then we came here.’ He pointed to a group of shell-shocked kids at a table across the room. ‘The others are over there.’

  ‘What time did you meet in the Cross Keys?’

  ‘About half past six, seven o’clock.’

  ‘Do you remember what time Emily got there?’

  ‘She was the last to arrive. Must’ve been about seven, maybe a few minutes later.’

  So that left Emily four hours unaccounted for between the three o’clock appointment she had mentioned to Banks and meeting her friends in the Cross Keys.

  ‘How did she seem?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Normal?’

  ‘For Emily.’

  ‘And what time did you come here?’

  ‘About half ten. It was pretty quiet. Like the barman says, it doesn’t usually get going till half past eleven or so. But they serve drinks, and there’s music, so you can dance.’

  ‘How many people would you say were here?’

  ‘Not a lot. They kept coming in, like, but it wasn’t that busy.’

  ‘More than now?’

  Darren looked around. ‘No, about this many.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘We got some drinks in, then Emily went to the toilet. We were dancing after that, I remember, then she said she wasn’t feeling very well.’

  ‘What did she say was wrong with her?’

  Darren shook his head. ‘Just that she didn’t feel well. She said she was getting a stiff neck.’ He rubbed his own neck and looked at Banks. ‘Was it drugs? It was drugs, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Why do you ask that?’

  ‘Just the way she was behaving. You know, like she was flying up there in her own world. Like I said, she’s pretty wild.’

  ‘How well did you know Emily, Darren?’

  ‘I told you, hardly at all. When she was home from school for the holidays she’d hang out with me and Rick and Jackie and Tina over there. That’s all. I was never her boyfriend or anything. She wasn’t interested in me like that. We just danced sometimes, went out with the gang. Had fun.’ He ran his hand over his greasy dark hair.

  ‘Did you ever supply her with drugs, Darren?’

  ‘Me? Never. I don’t touch them.’

  There was something in his tone that made Banks believe him. For the moment. ‘Okay. So she felt poorly. What happened next?’

  ‘She said she thought she might need some more medicine.’

  ‘What did she mean by that?’

  ‘More drugs, I assumed. Whatever she was taking.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘So she went back to the toilet.’

  ‘How long after her first visit?’

  ‘Dunno. Fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe.’

  Banks looked up and saw Peter Darby, the photographer, come in with his battered Pentax hanging around his neck. Banks pointed towards the toilets where the uniformed policeman still stood on guard, and Darby nodded as he headed towards the tape.
Annie dropped by the table and told him the SOCOs were on their way. Banks asked her to take statements from Darren and Emily’s friends across the room. He drank down the rest of his brandy and asked, ‘What happened next?’

  ‘She was a long time. I started to get worried, especially with her saying she wasn’t feeling well.’

  ‘When you say a long time, just how long do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know. Ten minutes. Quarter of an hour. Maybe longer. You don’t expect someone to stay in the toilet that long if they’re all right. I thought maybe she was being sick. She’d been drinking steadily most of the evening, a really weird mix of stuff, and she didn’t eat anything in the Cross Keys.’

  Or at lunchtime in the Black Bull, Banks remembered, where she had also been drinking some odd concoctions. ‘Were many people going in and out of the ladies’ toilet during that time?’

  ‘I never really looked. But the place wasn’t that busy, so maybe not.’

  ‘You didn’t ask anyone to check on her? Jackie or Tina?’

  ‘Tina went in after about five minutes and came right back out. She said Emily was making funny sounds, as if she was being sick or something, and she wouldn’t open the door of the stall.’

  ‘Wouldn’t or couldn’t?’

  Darren shrugged.

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘I thought about it for a bit, then I decided to go in and see what was up.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Must’ve been about five or ten minutes later, when she still hadn’t come out.’

  ‘Had others been in and out in the meantime?’

  ‘Like I said, I didn’t keep an eye on the place all the time, but I saw a couple of girls come and go.’

  ‘Are they still here?’

  Darren pointed out two girls at separate tables. ‘Okay,’ said Banks, ‘we’ll talk to them later. They didn’t say if anything was wrong, though?’

  ‘No. Just Tina thought she was being sick.’

  ‘So you went in the ladies’ yourself?’

  ‘Eventually, yes. I was worried. I mean, I’d been dancing with her. I felt she was sort of . . .’

  ‘Your responsibility?’

  ‘In a way. Yes.’

  ‘Even though she wasn’t your girlfriend?’

  ‘She was still a friend.’

  ‘What did you find in there?’

  Darren looked away and turned pale again. ‘You know. You’ve seen it. God, it was horrible. It’s like she wasn’t even human.’

  ‘I’m sorry to put you through it, Darren, but it could be important. Describe to me what you found. Was anyone else in there at the time?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was the stall door locked?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So how did you know there was something wrong?’

  ‘First I called her name and she didn’t answer. Then I just, like, listened at the door and I couldn’t hear anything. No sounds of her being sick or even breathing. I got really scared then.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I went into the next stall and climbed on the toilet. The walls don’t come right up to the ceiling, so you can lean over and look down. That’s when I saw her. She was looking up at me . . . all bruised and twisted . . . and her eyes . . .’ He put his head in his hands and started to sob.

  Banks touched his shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Darren. Go ahead and cry.’

  Darren let his tears run their course, then wiped his eyes with his sleeve and looked up. ‘Who could do something like that?’

  ‘We don’t know. We don’t know how, either. Apart from the two girls you mentioned, did you see anyone else go in the toilet while Emily was in there sick?’

  ‘No. But I told you I wasn’t looking all the time.’

  ‘You must have been looking quite often, though, if you were worried. You must have been keeping an eye on the door to see if Emily came out again.’

  ‘I suppose so. But I didn’t notice anyone else, no.’

  ‘See any men go in?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did anyone come in and out while you were there checking on her?’

  ‘No. Look, I didn’t do this. You’re not—’

  ‘Nobody’s suggesting that, Darren. I’m just trying to get everything clear, that’s all. When you saw her, did you know that she was dead?’

  ‘I couldn’t know. I mean, I didn’t take her pulse or anything. I didn’t touch her. But her eyes were open, staring, and her neck was in a weird position, as if someone had broken it or something. And I couldn’t see any signs of life.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I went to the manager and he phoned the police.’

  ‘Did anyone else enter the toilet before Inspector Jessup and DC Rickerd arrived?’

  ‘I don’t think so. The manager had a quick look – I was with him the whole time – then he phoned the police and the ambulance. He stayed by the door until the policemen arrived, and he wouldn’t let anyone in. He made a couple of girls use the men’s toilet. They complained. I remember that. But the police were quick.’

  ‘They didn’t have far to come. Did anyone leave the club?’

  ‘A couple of people might have left. But mostly people were arriving. It was still early. And I wasn’t really paying attention. I was just worried about Emily, and afterwards I was sort of in shock. The music kept going for quite a long time after . . . after I found her. People were still dancing. Even after the police came. They didn’t really know anything serious had happened.’

  ‘Okay, Darren, nearly finished. You’re doing really well. Did anything at all odd happen during the evening, either here or when you were at the Cross Keys or the Queen’s Arms, that gave you cause for concern about Emily?’

  ‘No. Nothing I can think of.’

  ‘She seemed in good spirits?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘She didn’t get into an argument with anyone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did she make any telephone calls?’

  ‘Not that I remember. Everything was fine.’

  ‘Did she mention drugs at all?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you get the impression she was on drugs before you got here?’

  ‘She might have been a bit high when she arrived at the Cross Keys.’

  ‘At seven?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, she wasn’t out of it or anything, just a bit giddy. But it wore off.’

  That was probably when she got the drugs, Banks thought: between leaving him in the Black Bull and arriving at the Cross Keys four hours later. She’d been smoking grass or snorting coke with someone in the meantime. Christ, why hadn’t he asked her where she was going? Would she have told him, anyway? ‘Did you see her talking to anyone in here before she went to the toilet?’ he asked.

  ‘Only us. I mean, we got a table together. We didn’t know anyone else here. I went to get the drinks in.’

  ‘Could she have bought the drugs from someone here?’

  ‘I suppose she could’ve done, but I didn’t see her.’

  ‘Inside the toilets, maybe?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘What about the Cross Keys?’ The Cross Keys wasn’t exactly a Mecca to drugs in the way the Black Bull was, but it wasn’t innocent either. ‘Did you see her talking to any strangers there?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so.’

  ‘Did she disappear for any length of time?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay, Darren. You’ll have to give a formal statement later, but it’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Can I go now?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Can I sit with my friends?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Is it okay if I use my mobile? I’d like to call my mum and dad, tell them . . . you know, I might be late.’

  ‘Sorry, Darren,’ said Banks. ‘Not yet. If you really need to let them know, just tell one of the uniformed offi
cers and he’ll see to it for you. Go sit with your friends now.’

  Darren slouched off to the table and Banks got up and turned to see Dr Burns coming out of the toilet. Peter Darby’s camera flashed in the open door behind him.

  ‘So what is it?’ Banks asked Dr Burns when they found a table at which they couldn’t be overheard. He had his own suspicions, though he had never seen an actual case before, but he wanted Dr Burns to get there first. It was partly a matter of not wanting to look like an idiot, not jumping to conclusions. After all, she could have been beaten to death.

  ‘I’m not certain yet,’ said Burns, shaking his head.

  ‘But your immediate impression. I’ll bet you’ve got a pretty good idea.’

  Burns grimaced. ‘We doctors don’t like giving our immediate impressions.’

  ‘Was she beaten up?’

  ‘I very much doubt it.’

  ‘The bruising?’

  ‘At a guess I’d say that happened from her head banging into the walls during the convulsions. Hang on a minute; are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Banks fumbled for another cigarette to take the taste of bile out of his mouth. ‘What do you mean, convulsions?’

  ‘As I said, I don’t think anyone attacked her. She was alone in there. You noticed the white powder and the broken mirror.’

  Banks nodded.

  ‘Cocaine, most likely.’

  ‘Are you saying she died of a cocaine overdose?’

  ‘I never said that.’

  ‘But it’s possible?’

  Burns paused. ‘Hmm. Possible. A cocaine overdose can cause spasms and convulsions in extreme cases.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘It would have to be extremely pure. As I said, it’s possible, but it’s not the most likely explanation.’

  ‘What is, then?’

  ‘How long has she been dead?’

  ‘They called the police at six minutes after eleven, so it must have happened a bit before then. I got here at ten to twelve.’

  Burns looked at his watch. ‘And it’s twenty past now. That means she can’t have been dead much more than, say, an hour and a half. Yet rigor’s complete. That’s highly unusual. I assume you also noticed the stiffness?’