Gallery Whispers

57

'Where are you, Clan?' asked Martin, having phoned the Edinburgh Central divisional CID commander on his mobile number.

'Up in Raymond Terrace, Andy, off the Western Corner,' Superintendent Pringle replied. 'I was just about to leave actually. I called you when I was on my way out here, but it's turned out to be a bit of a false alarm. It looked a bit colourful when my two detective constables turned up, but it's just a suicide. Sorry to have bothered you.'

The Head of CID chuckled. 'Don't mention it, mate. You got me out of the madhouse for a few minutes; I'm grateful for that. What was it made your people jumpy anyway?'

'Ach, it was just the way it looked. The stiff was a single bloke; the cleaning wumman came in this morning and found him sitting in his armchair, wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown, stone dead. She screamed, and all that, and phoned us in hysterics. "Help, Murder, Polis!" — you've heard it a million times. My boy and girl responded, along with a couple of uniforms.

'The thing that made them call me, and made me call you when I was told, was that the guy had a bag over his head. It looked a bit weird, I'll admit, but I saw when I ot here that it was like wearing a belt and braces. The bloke had injected himself with something. The syringe was lying in his lap.

'The doctor's been,' he added. 'He certified death due to asphyxia, then left.'

Martin felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He leaned forward in his chair. 'The bag, Clan,' he asked, 'what was it like?'

'Just a clear poly bag. Nothing fancy.'

'How was it secured?'

'Round the neck, of course, wi' black tape.'

'And the roll that the tape came from. Was it there?'

'Aye. On the arm of the chair.'

'And the scissors?'

'There was a pair on the floor.'

Andy Martin's expression was growing more troubled by the second. 'Have you called Arthur Dorward?' he asked.

'What?' said Pringle. 'The scene of crime team? No I haven't, because I don't see a crime here.'

'Well, you get them out there, Clan. Wait there for me, and don't let anyone touch a bloody thing. Are the press on to it?'

'Not as far as I know.'

'That's good. I want it kept that way. Be as discreet about this as you can.'