here a minute,’ Delorme said.
She got out of the car and found McLeod over by the Dumpster.
‘Lot of crap all over the place,’ he said. ‘Looks like someone blew up a computer back here.’
‘CompuClinic’s out front,’ Delorme said. ‘Listen, did you see Cardinal earlier this evening?’
‘Yeah, he was in the office till seven-thirty or so. Mayor showed up around seven-fifteen and they went out together. Probably to the Birches Motel, where his wife’s been boinking the Sanitation Department. You want me to call the mayor?’
‘You have his number?’
‘Do I ever. Guy’s been bugging me all week.’ McLeod had already pulled out his cell phone and selected a number from a list that glowed lilac in his palm.
Delorme went over to the ident guys. They were down on their knees picking up small items and dropping them into evidence bags. The moon was higher now, and no longer orange. It lit the scene with a silvery light. A cool breeze carried smells of old leaves. Why do the worst horrors occur on the most beautiful nights? Delorme wondered.
‘You bagged her hands?’ she said to Arsenault.
He looked up at her. ‘Well, yeah. Until we actually rule out foul play.’
Collingwood, the younger member of the ident team, was extracting objects from the camera bag that lay a few feet from the body. He was young, blond, and laconic almost to the point of hostility.
‘Camera,’ he said, holding up a Nikon. The lens was smashed.
‘She was a photographer,’ Delorme said. ‘Cardinal said she went out this evening to take pictures. What else?’
‘Spare rolls of film. Battery. Lenses. Filters. Lens tissue.’
‘About what you’d expect, in other words.’
He didn’t reply. Sometimes it was as if you hadn’t quite hit Collingwood’s Enter button.
‘Found car keys in her coat pocket,’ Arsenault said, handing them over.
‘I’ll check out her car,’ Delorme said, reaching for them.
The coroner was getting up from the body, whacking dust from the lower part of his overcoat. It was Dr Claybourne, already balding in his early thirties. Delorme had worked with him a couple of times before. He had asked her out once, but she had declined, saying she was already seeing someone, untrue at the time. Some men were too nice, in Delorme’s view, too harmless, too bland. It was like being alone but without privacy.
‘What do you think?’ Delorme said.
Dr Claybourne had a ring of red hair round his pate, and pale, almost translucent skin. He blushed a lot, Delorme had noticed, which she put down to his complexion.
‘Well, she’s taken a terrible fall, obviously. And from the amount of blood, she was certainly alive when she fell.’
‘Time of death?’
‘I only have body temperature to go on at the moment, and the lack of rigor. I’d say she’s been dead about two hours.’
Delorme looked at her watch. ‘Which would put it at about eight-thirty. What do the measurements tell you?’
‘Oh, I’d have to bow to your forensics experts on that. She’s eight feet from the edge of the building. The balconies extend five feet. She could have fallen from a balcony, or a window.’
‘From how high, do you think?’
‘Hard to say. Somewhere around ten storeys is my guess.’
‘The building’s only nine. We should probably start with the roof.’
‘All right. I’m not seeing any evidence of foul play, so far.’
‘I have a feeling you won’t find any. The victim is known to me, Doctor. Are you aware of her medical history?’
‘No.’
‘Call the psychiatric hospital. She’s been hospitalized up there at least four times in the past eight years. Her last stay was about a year ago and lasted three months. When you’ve done that, why don’t we go up to the roof?’
McLeod was waving her over. She left Claybourne dialling his cell phone.
‘Feckless Feckworth was not happy to hear from me. I could hear the wife screaming at him in the background. Naturally I brought all my diplomatic and social skills to bear.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘His worship says Cardinal was with him at the Birches till nine-thirty. Szelagy says the same.’
‘You heard from Szelagy?’
‘Yeah, he’s off the Porcinis for the night. He’s on his way.’
Delorme went to her car. Cardinal was where she had left him, looking as if he had taken a large-calibre round in the gut. Delorme led him over to the ambulance.
The paramedic was a hard-looking woman with very short blonde hair. Her uniform was tight on her.
‘Victim’s husband,’ Delorme said. ‘Take care of him, will you?’ She turned to Cardinal. ‘John, I’m heading up to the roof now. Stay here and let these people look after you. I’ll be back in about ten minutes.’
Cardinal sat down on the folded-out tail of the ambulance. Once again Delorme suppressed an urge to put her arms around him, her friend in agony and she has to remain all business.
McLeod and Dr Claybourne went with her in the elevator to the top floor. Then they had to take the stairwell up another flight to a door marked PATIO. The door was propped open with a brick. McLeod found a switch and turned on the exterior lights.
The roof had been covered with pressed wood flooring, and there were picnic tables with holes for umbrellas. The umbrellas had been taken in; the autumn breezes were already too cold for anyone to enjoy sitting outside for more than a few minutes.
‘I can see why she might have come up here to take pictures,’ Delorme said, looking around. To the north, a string of highway lights wound up the hill toward the airport. Slightly to the east was the dark shoulder of the escarpment, and to the south, the lights of the city, the cathedral spire, and the Post Office communications tower. The moon was rolling out from behind the belfries of the French church.
McLeod pointed to an unadorned concrete wall, waist-high, that surrounded the roof. ‘Doesn’t look like the kind of thing you could easily fall over. Maybe she was leaning over to take a picture. Might want to look at what’s on her camera.’
‘The camera was in the bag, so I don’t think she was shooting when she fell.’
‘Might wanna check anyway.’
Delorme pointed in the direction of the moon. ‘That’s where she went off.’
‘Why
