Free Close Call by J.M. Gregson Page B

picture a murderer’s movements in those minutes of warm darkness thirty-six hours earlier. He said slowly, ‘So anyone looking for mischief on Saturday night could have picked up this piece of wire easily enough, either from this skip or from somewhere else around. I noticed plenty of lush long grass and nettles in those gardens which hadn’t been cleared; they’ve been growing like mad in this hot weather, after all the rain we had ten days ago.’
    Lambert pointed out, ‘Anyone wanting us to think that this was a random killing could have picked up the wire days or even weeks beforehand, and waited for his moment. And there are no prints on the cable, so either the killer wore gloves or wiped it clean.’
    Rushton said, ‘The Scene of Crime boys found bits of wire and other builders’ leavings outside the fences at the rear of the gardens behind the new houses, too. So anyone coming in from the path by the river could easily have picked up this length of wire as he moved in. SOCO stresses that we shouldn’t confine our enquiries to people living in Gurney Close.’
    Lambert was still looking at the written PM report. ‘We also can’t assume the killer was male. It looks as if Durkin was taken by surprise, as if this cord was thrown over his head from behind. The neck was savagely damaged, but no great physical strength was required to do this. It could have been a woman who was tightening that cable round his neck.’
    Rushton nodded glumly. ‘There’s nothing remarkable in the analysis of the stomach contents, which is what you’d expect. They bear out what we’ve heard about the evening from those who were there. Quiche, ham, strawberries, ice cream. And a fair amount of alcohol over the evening. What we were told to expect by those who were with him on Saturday night.’
    Lambert was still studying the detail of the report. ‘Not quite, Chris. The alcohol blood count is seventy millilitres. That’s less than I would expect. A very modest amount for a man who’s been drinking throughout the evening and has no worries about driving home.’
    Bert Hook said, ‘His drinking was spread out over five hours. Perhaps he’d urinated copiously and drunk pints of water before retiring for the night, the thing we’re all told to do and which most of us forget.’
    Rushton took the report from Lambert and looked again at the figure, annoyed that he had previously just noted the expected presence of alcohol and not the relatively low amount. ‘Or maybe he was just more abstemious than the rest of them. Maybe he felt that as it was on his own patch he should act the host and stay more sober than his guests.’
    â€˜Both of those are feasible explanations. And so is the possibility that Robin Durkin was anticipating a meeting at the end of the evening and making sure that he was sober enough to handle it,’ said Lambert.
    â€˜You planning to come over to the house today? You’ve been conspicuous by your absence, so far.’ Lisa Holt tried not to make it sound like a criticism.
    â€˜I’ve been working in Monmouth. Job I promised to do for a pensioner weeks ago. Nice old couple. You’d like them, I think.’ Jason Ritchie was conscious that he was forcing out the phrases, not speaking freely and naturally as he had grown used to doing with Lisa. He stopped and waited for her to fill the pause. When she didn’t, he said defensively, ‘Anyway, it’s a Monday, and you’re out at work all day yourself, aren’t you?’
    â€˜I went home for a bit of lunch. Made myself a sandwich. I rather expected to find you there, that’s all.’ She could have bitten her tongue off as soon as she’d said it. It was just the kind of wimpish thing she’d told herself she’d never say again; it made it sound as though her life revolved around him. She’d told herself when her