Wearing Purple

Chapter 36

Greg had just received the police report from Dylan’s pal the Assistant Fiscal when I called in to his office in West Regent Street, to drop off a couple of witness statements and to sign the various forms which he had for me.

We were both pushed for time, and so he gave me a copy to take away with me. I had a series of interviews for another lawyer scheduled that morning and early afternoon, and so it was well into the day before I had a chance to pick it up.

I managed to read it all the way through on the fourth attempt. On each of the first three readings I made it as far as the description of Jan touching the live, water-filled appliance, then broke up.

The report was concise and unequivocal in its judgement. It said that the machine had been halfway through a wash cycle when the accident had happened. It pointed out that Jan must have loaded the machine, selected and switched on the programme. Therefore it surmised that the powerful vibration of the machine must have shaken loose a live wire from the power supply to the motor. This, it argued, had come into contact with the casing of the machine, stopping its cycle and turning it instantly into a death-trap.

Since the investigating officers had found a partly sliced pepper on the chopping board it presumed that Jan, ‘the victim,’ had been in the kitchen when the mishap had occurred, that she had stopped what she was doing and had attempted to restart the washer. On touching the lethal appliance she had received a massive electric shock which had killed her instantly. She was barefoot and the tiled floor was wet, but even without that added conductivity, she had no chance of survival.

The report said that its finding must remain one of extreme probability rather than fact, since the faulty wiring had been melted and fused together by the extreme heat generated as the current had earthed itself through Jan’s body. However the police examiners had called in Trading Standards Officers to test their findings, and they had agreed whole-heartedly with their conclusions.

When I was finished, I phoned Greg. ‘It looks pretty damning for the manufacturer, doesn’t it?’ I said to him.

‘Aye,’ said my friend. ‘As I guessed, they’ve asked for permission to have the machine tested independently. But they sound pretty well convinced. They have Scottish solicitors acting for them now, and one of them called me this afternoon for a preliminary chat about the quantum of your claim.’

I looked up at him. ‘Give me that last bit in English,’ I asked.

‘It means how much they’re going to pay you,’ he said. ‘If their tests bear out the others, and it seems that they should, it could be big; six figures.’

‘I don’t really give a toss, Greg.’ As I spoke, I was visited by an unbidden memory of Jan in that makeshift mortuary chapel. ‘They can’t give me what I want,’ I added.

‘No, no, of course they can’t. I do have some good news for you, though. I had a talk with the Assistant Fiscal and I got him to agree that in the light of the report, there’s no need for a formal Fatal Accident Inquiry before Sheriff and jury. He accepts that it’s clear no criminal offence has been committed, and that since the matter could wind up in the civil courts, it’s better that his office doesn’t muddy the waters.

‘So the file will be marked “Accidental Death”, and closed. That’ll be a weight off your mind, Oz.’

‘Sure,’ I said, with more bitterness than I intended. After all, Greg really did think he had done me a favour. ‘I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.’