Page 40 of 56 Days
Oh great. Thanks for landing me in it.
Don’t make things even worse.
“How did you get on in there?” she asks him.
A shrug, no eye contact. “Fine.”
“Did you touch anything?”
“I had gloves on.”
There it is.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Lee says. “Gloves leave marks too. And they can smudge prints or even destroy other forensically valuable evidence. But look, we all make mistakes. And you might be lucky here because if I had to call this right now, my guess would be that this guy drugged himself for shits and giggles and then fell through his shower door and hit his head. So maybe it won’t even matter. Butyoudon’t get to decide what matters. That’s my job. So, tell me: What did you touch?”
A beat passes before whatever bravado was there falls clean away.
“I think maybe I made a mistake.” Declan clears his throat. “I know I did.”
“Well, don’t make another one now.” Lee looks at him expectantly, waiting.
“The showerhead was dripping,” he says. “I didn’t think, it was like a reflex action—”
“You turned it off.”
“Yes,” he says miserably.
She tries to picture the shower controls: a flat, silver lever that you’d push down to stop the flow of water.
“Show me how.”
He makes a fist and bumps it lightly against an invisible surface. In all likelihood, it was just the side of his hand that made contact.
“I’m sorry, Inspector.”
“Don’t worry about it for now. I could have done the same thing myself.” She wouldn’t have, but she might have done back when she was as green as him. “If things weren’t as ripe in there, you could have had paramedics going in, turning him over and whatnot, so we’d have a lot more disturbance to deal with than that. It’s the kind of thing you won’t do twice, so next time, when it really matters, you won’t make the same mistake.” She hopes it won’t really matter this time, for both their sakes. “Just be more careful in future. And well done for not upchucking your guts. Things were pretty grim in there.”
Over his shoulder, she sees Karl approaching. She dismisses Declan and steps away so she and Karl can talk without being overheard.
“What was all that about?” is Karl’s opening line.
“Nothing important. Where were you?”
“Car park. Basement level.”
“Anything interesting?”
“You need a fob to get in but the sensors let you out. Each space is assigned and there’s no vehicle in number one. But it’s not empty—the local Lidl is missing a trolley and that trolley is missing a wheel. Which makes me think—”
“It’s been empty a while,” Lee finishes.
“So either someone else took the car or there wasn’t one to begin with. We’ll have to wait for the CCTV to confirm. Any word from the management company?”
“Not yet. And if I don’t hear from them in the next five minutes I’m going to send a bloody car to the office. Emergency number my arse.”
“Are they”—Karl makes air quotes—“essential workers? Because if they’re not, there won’t be anyone there.”
“You know, I don’t think apartment one is a permanent residence. There’s hardly anything in there, no personal items, place barely decorated... I’m thinking it’s like an Airbnb. Which would tie with there being no vehicle, right? And no one noticing that this guy has been missing for the last two weeks. Maybe he wasn’t even supposed to be here. Maybe he got caught out when the lockdown came in.”
