Murder in Hampstead by Sabina Manea (read this if txt) 📕

have got a full medical history from Mrs Byrne, blabbermouth as she is. Besides, that glass the Professor was drinking from–’

‘Yes, I’ve seen the glass, thank you,’ interrupted Carliss, clearly irked by the unsolicited deductions. ‘I think we’d better leave the diagnosis to the professionals, don’t you think?’

He put his pen down and patted her on the arm.

‘I think you’ve done more than enough for today. Go home. Have a drink. Have two drinks. I’m certainly going to. Chances are, it could all be very dull. She wasn’t young.’

Lucia got up slowly. She didn’t like the patronizing dismissal, but she could see he was also trying to put her mind at ease. She felt burned out. For all her bravado, the tragic event had got the better of her.

‘On second thoughts, you’re in no fit state to be driving. I’ll take you back in your van.’ The detective marched purposefully ahead, just as she was about to protest. He had a point; she didn’t want to do any more thinking today. She handed him the keys and told him the address. He drove prudently, both hands on the wheel, while she weaved in and out of consciousness.

‘Will you manage from here?’ Carliss said when they had arrived outside her building.

‘I’ll be fine. Thank you.’

‘Well, I’ll leave you in peace then. My car’s still outside the posh house. Is there a pub nearby that you’d recommend?’

‘The Red Lion. Good beer if you don’t mind drinking with the local builders.’

‘There are worse people I could be drinking with. Thanks. I’ll have one for the road.’

The day needed to end. Lucia climbed the stairs to the front door, let herself in and collapsed on the bed rehearsing all that had happened. She got out a bottle of wine and ordered a takeaway. Once her stomach was full and the alcohol had hit, she slept like the dead.

Chapter 5

Friday, 11th September

(one week after the murder)

It had been a trying week, and Lucia was glad it was over. Professor Kiseleva had died in the ambulance on the way to hospital. Mrs Byrne said it was heart failure, but no other information had been forthcoming. Lucia stayed away from Beatrice Hall for a few days while the police were combing the place. On her return, the house was even more silent than usual. Everything was preserved exactly as it had been after the ill-fated party. She had half-expected police tape and other such contraptions, but the place bore no trace of the forensic investigation. The housekeeper had confined herself to the kitchen, and Adam was barely ever around. On the rare occasions that he did make an appearance, he was mostly glued to his phone and would vaguely acknowledge Lucia with vacant, glassy eyes when she greeted him. She could only assume he wanted her to continue with the work and so she kept coming back, carrying on as if they hadn’t been interrupted by a harrowing death.

That evening, settled on a comfortable bar stool at the Red Lion with a large glass of ice-cold wine, Lucia made a solemn promise to herself that she wouldn’t give the Professor’s death another thought. If it was a tragic accident, then there was nothing more to be said or done. And if it was something more sinister, then it was none of Lucia’s business. It was a police matter, that much had been made clear to her by that uppity inspector.

Sat as she was in the corner furthest away from the door, she was able to watch those coming in without necessarily being noticed. The usual crowd was in attendance, and they were particularly rowdy tonight. Some sort of football-related chat, as far as she could work out. Lucia could have easily gone to one of the other pubs in the area, but the truth was, she liked the atmosphere here – the unfussiness suited her. She certainly wasn’t in the mood for an evening alone in her flat.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the latest arrival, who took her entirely by surprise. Detective Chief Inspector Carliss walked in and sat at the other end of the bar from her. He looked like he too had had a very long week. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed as he eyed up the beers on offer. Becky wasn’t working tonight, and Jez, the lad who was taking her place, couldn’t pull a pint to save his life, poor thing, and not for want of trying. Lucia watched DCI Carliss order himself some best bitter which Jez managed to spill all over the counter before refilling it twice. The policeman was doing his best to hide the pained look on his face, but that flustered the boy even more. At last, a relatively full glass was placed in front of the customer and money exchanged hands. DCI Carliss breathed a sigh of relief as he took the first, long-awaited sip.

Despite the earlier resolve to keep her nose out of trouble, Lucia just couldn’t help herself. She stared in the policeman’s direction long enough for him to glance over. As he caught her eye, he looked as if he wanted to make a run for it. Talking to witnesses to a death down the boozer wasn’t exactly proper procedure, Lucia mused, not that she planned to let that stop her.

‘Hello, Detective Chief Inspector.’ She picked up her wine glass, which was nearly empty by now, and walked decisively in his direction. ‘Mind if I join you?’

The policeman raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t have much of a choice, seeing that Lucia was practically hovering over him, so he gestured to the free stool. ‘Miss Steer. Sure, go ahead.’

She perched on the chair with an expectant look on her face. The wine on an empty stomach had spurred her on, and she hadn’t had time to think through