Close to Death

Without waiting for permission, Hawthorne moved forward, avoiding a puddle on the floor, and eased himself down the side of the car. A couple of men in white protective overalls glanced at him curiously but didn’t try to challenge him. Now he could see the body, the supermarket bag, the gas cylinder sitting on the passenger seat, the rubber tube stretching across.

‘That’s a nine-hundred-litre cylinder of medical-grade nitrous oxide, one hundred per cent pure.’ Khan had followed him. ‘We’ve already confirmed that it’s the same manufacturer and supplier that Mr Browne used at his Cadogan Square clinic, and he seems to have kept spares in the basement of his house. I’ll say one thing for him. He didn’t do things by halves. As well as the gas, he’d taken an overdose of zolpidem, a well-known sleeping pill, and there was about a quarter of a bottle of Scotch in his bloodstream. Put them together, though, and they still wouldn’t have been enough to kill him. My guess is that he was already half-asleep when he turned on the gas. He arranged things so he slept through his own death.’

‘Who broke the window?’ Hawthorne asked.

‘That was Sarah Baines. It was the right thing to do. When she and Mrs Winslow entered the garage, the car’s windows and doors were all locked. Mr Browne wasn’t moving, but there was always a chance he could have still been alive. She smashed the window, which set off the alarm and woke up all the neighbours, if they weren’t already up and about. The moment she leaned in, she saw it was too late. He was a goner.’

‘You’re aware of her prison record?’

‘Burglary and a pub brawl where someone got glassed. Of course I know. But this is a different league. Roderick Browne liked her. When I spoke to him, he only had good things to say.’

‘When was the time of death?’ Dudley asked, standing at the entrance.

‘Just before midnight.’

‘The same as Giles Kenworthy. The middle of the night seems a popular time to get yourself done in if you’re living in Riverview Close.’

‘He wasn’t done in.’ Khan glowered at Dudley. ‘Mrs Winslow and Sarah Baines came in, as I explained. The up-and-over door was bolted from the inside and they entered through the house. Mrs Winslow was the first to see the body and as you can imagine, she was deeply shocked. If you talk to her, it would be nice if you could try and hold back on that sense of humour of yours.’

They were preparing to lever the body out. Roderick Browne’s head was still concealed.

‘Has anyone taken that bag off yet?’ Dudley asked.

‘No. Why do you ask?’

‘It’ll just come as a bit of a surprise if you discover that it’s not the dentist sitting in the car.’

Khan felt a brief moment of unease, then remembered that the dead man was wearing some of the same clothes he’d had on the day before: white shirt, linen trousers, moccasins – along with a pale blue jacket that was very much in Roderick Browne’s style. It was him all right. It had to be.

Meanwhile, Hawthorne had turned his attention to the rest of the garage. He mentally ticked off the gardening tools, the paint pots and brushes, the golf clubs, the tap with its plastic bucket . . . all the items that had been there when he had visited the day before. There were a few additions and he looked at these with particular interest. A box of electrical bits and pieces – plugs, cables, connectors – had been dumped on one side of the door. A Dyson hoover with a cracked plastic casing was propped up next to it. A dustbin bag revealed a collection of old DVDs. ‘Where did these come from?’ he asked Khan.

Khan was standing on the other side of the car. He was aware that everyone in the garage could hear what was being said. ‘Maybe he was having a clear-out,’ he suggested.

‘Having a spring clean before he topped himself?’

‘Leaving things nice and tidy behind him. You don’t know what was in his mind. What are you doing now . . . ?’

Hawthorne was being careful not to touch anything, but he was craning his neck, examining the skylight above the car. It projected above the flat roof, but it hadn’t been constructed in a way that allowed it to open.

‘You’re thinking that someone could have got in or out via the roof,’ Khan said. ‘Well, DC Goodwin went up there just before you arrived. The whole thing is screwed in and it looks as if the screws have rusted solid. She got a screwdriver and tried to undo them. They wouldn’t budge.’

‘What’s happened to the suicide note?’

‘It’s in the house. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d ask you to leave the crime scene. We need to get the body out.’

‘Whatever you say, Detective Superintendent.’

The three men went back into the house and sat down at the kitchen table.

‘It’s not suicide,’ Hawthorne said.

‘It can’t be anything else,’ Khan replied, sourly.

‘A dead man in a locked car in a locked garage. That’s a new definition of a riddle wrapped in a mystery locked in an enigma,’ Dudley misquoted.

‘Where’s this suicide note?’ Hawthorne asked.