‘It’s a real mystery,’ began Carson. ‘Thoughts, Josie?’ He knew better than to ask Cross, and currently had nothing more to offer himself.
‘Too early, but the number of stab wounds implies an angry attack,’ she replied.
‘So, someone he knew, you think?’ asked Carson.
‘Or someone he’d had dealings with. It doesn’t feel random,’ she went on.
‘What do you suggest, George? Plan-of-action-wise?’ Carson asked.
‘I’m the junior officer here, sir. You should be asking DI Ottey that question,’ replied Cross. Carson and Ottey exchanged a look. Cross couldn’t help but go on, though. ‘As always when nothing is presenting itself as an obvious line of enquiry, we should look at the victimology. Build up a picture of Ed Squire’s life, both professional and personal. It’s the only starting point we have.’
‘Murder weapon?’ asked Carson hopefully.
‘None,’ replied Ottey. ‘We’re still searching Brandon Hill, the surrounding streets, but nothing’s turned up thus far.’
*
Clare Hawkins the pathologist didn’t have much to help them with either.
‘Death was fairly instantaneous. The weapon was about six inches long with a sharp tip and fairly blunt sides,’ she said when they visited the mortuary.
‘How can you ascertain that?’ asked Cross out of genuine interest.
‘From the shape of the wound. A knife with sharp edges would have left a different entry shape. I also found a fragment of something in one of the wounds, which I’ve sent on to Dr Swift,’ she went on.
‘Any idea what it was?’ asked Ottey.
‘Why don’t we wait until Dr Swift has had time to conduct his tests?’ Cross asserted. While he had no time for speculative ideas and she knew that, Ottey felt there was a slight irritation in his response, but said nothing. They hadn’t had a chance to discuss her promotion and she thought he might still feel a little betrayed by her not giving him a heads-up.
Cross’s phone vibrated. He would normally ignore this, but he checked, in case it was the hospital. It was. He answered it.
‘Mr Moseby,’ he said and left the room. Ottey stood up and followed.
‘We’ve done the scan and I’m afraid it’s not good news. There is a bleed on your father’s brain. I have Dr Khan with me who’s a consultant neurologist and is now in charge of your father’s care. Obviously, I will be consulting with him, but this is his field of expertise.’
‘Good morning, DS Cross. As Mr Moseby says there is a small, but not insignificant bleed on your father’s brain and a certain amount of swelling. It’s not uncommon in these circumstances but it does mean we’ll have to keep him on a ventilator for the next few days,’ began Khan.
‘Is there any treatment for this?’ asked Cross.
‘Unfortunately, we can’t give him blood thinners, which we would normally do at this point, as he’s only just had surgery. But it’s something we’ll look at again in a couple of weeks,’ Khan explained.
‘What about a hemicraniectomy?’ asked Cross.
‘I see you’ve been doing your research, DS Cross,’ said Khan.
‘A little,’ admitted Cross, although the truth was he’d spent most of the previous night researching strokes, brain bleeds and swelling.
‘A hemicraniectomy is a massive procedure involving, as you doubtless know, removing a large part of the patient’s skull to alleviate the pressure. But I wouldn’t recommend it for a man of your father’s age. The risk is far, far too great,’ replied Khan.
‘So, what do you propose?’ asked Cross.
‘We’ll monitor him over the next couple of days, then do another scan. But it’s really up to your father, and how much he is able to recover from this. As I’m sure Mr Moseby has told you, the prognosis is still uncertain. I’m so sorry.’
*
With the other member of their unofficial ‘team’, Alice Mackenzie, away, studying in her new ambition to become a detective, a new police staff officer was assigned to them. This was Prianka Patel. She seemed perfectly likeable to Ottey, even though she seemed to have a preternatural shyness about her. Possibly this was something to do with her diminutive stature. She was barely over five feet tall. Cross had been impressed by the way she’d helped them on a recent case and had requested her for this one. This was mainly because she was very methodical and adhered fastidiously to his instructions. She’d been tasked with looking into Ed Squire and the bookshop. They met with her for a catch-up, on their return from the mortuary.
‘Anything of interest?’ asked Ottey.
‘Well, I’m not sure if it’s of any interest, but I have found something, yes,’ she replied.
Cross liked the modest clarity of this answer. Implicit in it was that it was not for her to determine whether something was pertinent to the case, but the two detectives.
‘As I was looking into the victim, I discovered the circumstances in which Torquil Squire came into possession of the building in Berkeley Square. It was left to him by a wealthy, childless widow in the nineteen eighties. She was a frequent customer of his,’ Prianka started.
‘Bloody hell, that’s a nice customer to have,’ Ottey commented.
‘At the time he co-owned a bookshop with Denholm Simpson, down near the BRI,’ Prianka commented.
‘It’s still there, isn’t it?’ asked Cross who thought he’d noticed it on one of his recent visits to the hospital.
‘Yes. It was called Squire Simpson, but now it’s just Simpson’s.’
‘What else do you know?’ asked Cross.
‘Nothing. Simpson is still alive and working, he’s a decade younger than Squire, so around eighty.’
Ottey thought Cross might be annoyed at the paucity of this information, but he didn’t seem to be.
‘Look further into Ed, rather than Squire senior. We’ll pay Denholm Simpson a visit,’ he said.
‘I love these names – first Torquil and now Denholm,’ said Ottey. Cross looked puzzled by this for a moment, then got up and started putting on his coat. Prianka took this as a cue that the meeting was over and also got up.
‘Thanks, Prianka,’ said Ottey as the young woman left. Ottey looked at Cross and thought, why can he not understand the need for the occasional expression of gratitude?
‘Where are you off to?’ she asked him instead.
‘Are you not coming?’ he replied.
‘That’s an odd question, as I have no idea where you’re going. So, what makes you think I’d be coming with you?’ she asked.
‘Good point,’ he answered. But instead of furnishing her with that information, he simply left. She, in turn, just sighed and followed.