Claire McNab - Dead Certain

Nicole Raeburn was wearing what Carol categorized as a “little girl” dress, with many fussy adornments of ruffles and ribbons. Together with her extreme thinness, her attire made her seem very young and defenseless, although by Carol’s calculations she would be at least thirty.

“How can I help you?” said Carol, sitting down behind the familiar protection of her desk, conscious that she felt an instinctive aversion to Raeburn’s sister.

“We want to know what’s going on about Colly.”

Carol’s dislike made her cordial. She said gently, “My report will be seen by the Commissioner, and it will then go to the Coroner to assist him with the inquest into your brother’s death. None of it will be made public until that point.”

“I’m his sister! I have a right to know everything!”

“I’m sorry. I’ll have to refer you to my Chief Inspector, or to the Commissioner.”

“I’ll tell Auntie Marge!”

Carol couldn’t imagine the new Minister for Police would welcome being dragged in to mediate. She let the childish threat hang in the air while she assessed Nicole’s state of mind. Her agitated movements and wide-eyed stare suggested hysteria, but Carol was convinced that this display was an attempt to manipulate the situation to her own advantage.

Welton was squirming in his chair. “Nicole, just get to the point.” Again, Carol was struck by the incongruity of such a high, light voice coming from such a powerful body.

His impatience had an effect on Nicole. She glared at him, then turned to Carol. “Inspector, I’d appreciate some kind of progress report about my brother.”

Carol said mildly, “Under the circumstances, I’d be prepared to answer your questions, if I can.”

She was wryly amused when Nicole appeared gratified by this seeming concession, as she had no intention of revealing anything other than the most general of observations.

“So when are you going to prove it was an awful accident? Daddy’s so upset about the publicity, and it’ll die down once you come up with the truth.”

“We haven’t completed our inquiries. In any case the inquest will determine what happened.” Obviously this answer didn’t satisfy Nicole, but before she could comment, Carol went on, “I’d like to ask if you ever saw your brother with a copy of The Euthanasia Handbook .”

“No.”

As Nicole sat tight-lipped after this bald reply, Carol tried another tack. “During my inquiries I’ve heard a rumor that your brother took cocaine…”

Welton’s tapping fingers stilled; Nicole gave a theatrical shrug as she said, “So?”

“He did use cocaine?”

It was clear Nicole considered the subject of little importance. “In the circles Colly moved, it was just taken for granted.” She added with a superior smile, “Like you’d use alcohol, with your friends.”

“Mr. Welton?”

He smoothed his hair. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“Welty, that isn’t true!”

He turned to Carol for understanding. “Inspector Ashton, you know there are always drugs around. Anything used was purely recreational. No one’s into it in any serious way, and Collis certainly wasn’t. He valued his voice too much to do anything to jeopardize it.”

“Do either of you know who supplied him?”

Her face twisted. “ I don’t! And what’s this got to do with him dying? Isn’t that the important thing?” Her eyes filled with tears; there was a rising note of hysteria in her voice. “I miss him so! You don’t know how I feel!”

She seemed to calm down when Graeme Welton leaned over to pat her hand. “Come on, Nikky, don’t upset yourself.”

Sympathy struggled with exasperation in Carol. “I’m sorry, Ms Raeburn. This must be very painful for you.”

Rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, Nicole said, “Have you seen Lloyd Clancy? Everyone knows he hated Colly.”

“Yes, I’ve interviewed Mr. Clancy.”

“Well? Where was he when Colly died? Do you know?”

Repressing a sigh, Carol said, “Because your brother’s body wasn’t discovered until some considerable time had elapsed, the time of his death is impossible to pinpoint accurately.”

“So alibis don’t matter?”

The shrewdness under her childish persona still surprised Carol. “We’re trying to narrow the possible time frame. For example, your telephone conversation with him in the early evening establishes that he was still conscious at that time.”

“Does it matter, since it was a dreadful accident?” she demanded peevishly.

Carol’s reply was matter-of-fact. “If it was an accident-probably not. If murder-yes.”

“ Murder ? It was an accident! It couldn’t have been anything else. When are you going to see that?” When Carol didn’t respond, she demanded, “Why won’t you give me straight answers? I’m entitled to know!”

“There’s very little I can tell you, Ms Raeburn, at this point.”

Nicole stood, righteously angry. “Come on, Welty. This is a waste of time.”

“Mr. Welton, I’d like to speak with you for a moment,” said Carol, smoothly interposing.

Nicole pouted. “You can ask anything in front of me. We’re friends, after all.”

Carol gestured to Anne Newsome. “Constable, would you see Ms Raeburn out, please.”

Left alone with Carol, Graeme Welton looked embarrassed. “Look, Inspector, I’m sorry about the way Nikky behaved. She’s really stressed by what’s happened…”

“I understand that. Please sit down.” After he’d complied, Carol said, “Mr. Welton, during an investigation there are times when we have to ask very personal questions…”

Looking resigned, he said, “Go on, then. Ask.”

“I’d like some more details about your association with Collis Raeburn. Specifically, did you have a sexual relationship with him?”

His hands, that had been weaving an elaborate dance with each other, stilled. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” he said.

“Afraid?”

Welton passed a hand over his face. “Collis was the most selfish person I’ve ever met. He put himself first, second, third and last-and all the places in between. Any relationships to him were there to bolster his ego.” He looked up at her, his piercingly blue eyes dimmed by unshed tears. “But when I heard he was dead, I didn’t think I could bear it.”

“Were you surprised he’d killed himself?”

The question elicited a mirthless smile. “Very. Collis was convinced that he was the most glorious thing he had ever known, so why would he destroy himself?”

Carol sat in her office mentally reviewing the case as she absentmindedly played with her gold pen. She looked at its embossed metal shaft, thinking that it had been a birthday present from Sybil. She put it down gently. I’m not going to think about that now .

Mark was always on time, but Anne hurried in a little late. Once they were seated, she said, “Okay troops. Report time.”

“You’re in a good mood,” Mark said.

Carol gave him a brief smile. “We’re getting there, Mark. I’m beginning to see a pattern.”

“So it’s murder.”

“It’s murder,” she said with confidence. “All right, Anne, what’ve you got?”

As Anne Newsome opened a folder and cleared her throat, Carol remembered the feeling of importance she herself had felt the first time she’d been entrusted with a strand of an investigation. Anne’s reporting technique was admirably succinct as she briefly described her interview with Anita Burgess, Raeburn’s publicist. “They had a professional relationship, but she says she knows nothing about his personal life… If she actually does, she isn’t saying.”