it might not be for some time. There will have to be a fatal accident enquiry first.’
‘You’re not clear about what happened, then?’ Maclure asked.
‘Not yet. There are no witnesses and the forensics are difficult to interpret.’ Callanach chose the most vague phrase he could.
‘Poor Stephen. Still no peace for him. He was even mocked while he was contemplating suicide from the bridge. Can you believe some people? I worry about the human race.’
‘Sorry, he was mocked how and by whom?’ Callanach asked.
‘There was a man in the crowd, laughing, while Stephen was struggling to get himself safe. The police officers were nearer than me. I’m not sure who it was. I could hear but not see who was responsible.’
‘Thank you, Mr Maclure,’ Callanach said. ‘We’ll be in touch about the funeral details when we have information.’
They drove away in silence, contemplating how the landscape of Stephen’s death had shifted in the previous hour. The bipolar disorder provided a simple motive for suicide and the decision not to proceed with counselling might well have been confirmation that Stephen was still struggling.
‘Phone the pathologist when we get back to the station, Tripp,’ Callanach said. ‘She’ll need to get hold of Stephen Berry’s medical records to check the bipolar disorder and hopefully that’ll tell us what medication he was taking. And speak to the officers at the Queensferry Crossing incident. See if any of them remembers a man laughing and get a description. It’s probably nothing, but the procurator fiscal will want it covered if there’s to be an inquiry.’
Tripp’s phone rang. Callanach drove on, cursing the traffic lights as Tripp answered it.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Tripp muttered. ‘We’ll be back in quarter of an hour. Sure. I understand. Straight there.’ He ended the call.
‘What was that about?’ Callanach asked.
‘DCI Turner wants you back at the station as quickly as possible, sir. We’re not to stop anywhere, she says, and don’t talk to anyone else. Direct to her office. She sounded weird, to be honest.’
‘Weird, how?’ Callanach asked.
‘Quiet and polite. As if she were at a tea party, you know?’ Tripp said.
Or as if she’d spent too much time staring at her injuries from the previous night in the mirror and was trying to figure out why she’d taken such a massive risk, Callanach thought. Ava wasn’t in the best place right now.
Ava was standing at her office window when Callanach and Tripp entered. Arms crossed, face pinched, she was as defensive as Callanach had ever seen her.
‘Thank you, DS Tripp, you can go now,’ she dismissed.
Tripp glanced at Callanach but said nothing, exiting quietly.
‘Ava, are you all right? I was worried about you,’ Callanach said, crossing the room to her, ready to give whatever support she needed.
Instead, she took a step away from him.
‘I had a call from Ailsa while you were out,’ she said.
‘Stephen Berry’s tox results?’ Callanach asked.
‘New case, actually. Her deputy performed the postmortem early this morning. What looked like a natural death turns out to have been a suffocation.’
‘Do you need me to get a squad to the scene?’ Callanach asked.
‘Scenes of Crime is already there with uniformed officers,’ Ava replied tersely. ‘They’re conducting preliminary interviews. I’m giving this one to Pax Graham.’
‘You’re putting him in charge of a murder investigation on his first day? I’m not sure he’s even up to speed with MIT procedures yet. If it’s handled wrongly, it could be fatal for the prosecution.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ Ava said. ‘Where were you when I called you to meet me at the mortuary to see Stephen Berry’s body?’
‘I told you at the time, I was at my flat. I hadn’t unpacked. I still haven’t after last night …’
‘Actually, you said you were at the gym, so I’m curious that it turns out you were at a nursing home visiting a man called Bruce Jenson.’
‘Bruce Jenson?’ Callanach paused. There was no way Ava could know anything about Jenson. They’d never discussed him or what he’d done to his mother. ‘Sorry, I don’t understand what you’re asking me.’
‘Are you denying that you lied to me about the gym?’ She was breathing fast, her voice louder than the conversation warranted.
Ava was furious, Callanach realised, and it was about more than just being lied to.
‘Fine, I wasn’t at the gym. I had personal business that I didn’t want to discuss. No big deal. What’s going on, Ava?’
‘I’m not Ava right now,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘I’m DCI Turner. And once this conversation’s over, I’m going to have to make up a formal statement recording what we both said. Technically speaking, I should probably have another officer in here as a witness, but you saved my life last night, so I’m giving you this, but I won’t break procedure to any greater degree. Were you at the nursing home, yes or no?’
‘Yes,’ Callanach said.
Ava’s folded arms flopped momentarily to her sides as if defeated before she took control and landed them forcefully on her hips.
‘And you lied to me because?’
‘You needed me and I didn’t want you to think you were disturbing me,’ he said.
‘You lied to me for my own sake?’ Ava’s voice was getting louder.
‘I lied because I made the decision to get straight back on with work. I wasn’t doing anything I couldn’t walk away from. What exactly has happened that’s so …’
‘Bruce Jenson’s dead,’ Ava said abruptly, watching his face.
Callanach remained still.
‘He had advanced dementia and death was apparently inevitable, the doctor said, but not expected any time soon. He had perhaps a year, maybe more left. His doctor hadn’t seen him for a month and the nurses were happy with his condition, so they were surprised to find him deceased. In those circumstances, procedure is for there to be a postmortem and then …’
‘Wait,’ Callanach said. ‘Just … give me a moment.’
It
