Private London (Private 4)
‘And some serious shit either way.’
Kirsty nodded. ‘Risk and reward.’
The Buckinghamshire-based detective tossed the keys in the air and clutched them in her fist.
‘The sisterhood doing it for themselves?’ she said.
Kirsty shrugged. ‘Something like that.’
DI James stepped over to the shop’s door. ‘Come on, then, Alice,’ she said. ‘Let’s go down the rabbit hole.’
She slotted the Chubb key in the lock and turned it. She depressed the door handle and opened the door.
‘Just the one lock?’ Kirsty asked, surprised.
‘This is Chesham,’ said DI James. ‘We don’t have crime in Chesham.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ said Kirsty Webb.
It didn’t take long to process the shop. A couple of desks, a couple of cupboards, a big filing cabinet with patients’ records, duplicated no doubt in electronic form on the computer.
They had split up. DI James took the front office and reception area and Kirsty Webb checked the back office and examination room.
Half an hour later Kirsty came out to the front, still wearing latex gloves, and looked at her new colleague who was sitting behind the reception desk reading an office diary. ‘Anything?’ she asked.
DI James looked up from the A4-sized book. ‘Chappel kept an office diary. He used it for personal stuff too.’
‘Don’t tell me. He’s made a confession. Death by gas barbecue. It was an elaborate suicide.’
DI James flashed a brief smile and shook her head. ‘If only. It would make our jobs a lot easier if people did the decent thing like that.’
‘People did the decent thing, we’d be out of a job, Natalie.’
‘And that’s the truth. But what we have got here is a list of his guests for the barbecuing he was planning.’
‘And?’
‘Among others we have one of the doctors who signed off on the brain-death certification for Colin Harris, a Dr Sarah Wilde, and the surgeon who performed the subsequent heart transplant, Mister Alistair Lloyd.’
‘One of the people on that list knew that Chappel was planning a barbecue, could have tampered with the gas regulator. Set a leak so that when he switched it on it would explode? Is that what you’re thinking?’
‘Could be. Forensics are working on what’s left of the barbecue. It may show that the regulator was tampered with.’ She shrugged. ‘It may not.’
‘I guess those two from the hospital are worth checking out. See where they were prior to the arranged meeting time. See if they had opportunity.’
‘It’s not the opportunity that I am puzzled by,’ said Natalie James.
Kirsty waited for her to finish the thought.
‘It’s the motive.’
Chapter 82
POLICE CONSTABLE MARK Smith was a tall man.
Somewhat over six foot. He wasn’t sure by how much any more. At one time he was six three but the years on the beat and the ageing process generally meant he rode a little lower in the saddle nowadays. And he didn’t have the heart to measure by how much.
He was in his early fifties and looking forward to retiring sometime in the near future. He had it all planned. Out of the city, off to the coast. He’d leave his uniform behind happily, and swap his baton for a fly-fishing rod. His wife was a history teacher in a state school in Ealing, and she was looking forward to retiring too.