The Bat(89)

Of those present only Watkins and Yong did not know the details now, but Harry took it from the top anyway.

‘We didn’t give it a moment’s thought when we found Andrew because it was the middle of the day. It didn’t even occur to me when I found out the time of death. It was only later that it struck me the light was off when we arrived at Rechtnagel’s flat. If things happened the way we had assumed, this would have been the course of events: Andrew switched off the light by the door, groped his way to the chair in a heroin haze – the room is pitch black at two in the morning – balanced on the wobbly chair and put the loop over his head.’

In the ensuing silence it was obvious that even with new technology it was hard to manufacture a fan that didn’t make an irritating noise, however low the buzz.

‘That doesn’t sound right,’ Watkins said. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t pitch black, perhaps the street lamps or something else lit the room from outside?’

‘Lebie and I were there at two in the morning and checked. The sitting room was as dark as a grave.’

‘Could the light have been on when you arrived without your noticing?’ Yong asked. ‘After all, it was the middle of the day. An officer may have turned off the light later.’

‘We cut Andrew down with a knife,’ Lebie said. ‘I would have got an electric shock, so I checked the light was off.’

‘OK,’ Watkins said. ‘Let’s assume he chose to hang himself in the dark, so Kensington is a bit of an unusual bloke. What else is new?’

‘But he didn’t hang himself in the dark,’ Harry said.

McCormack coughed from the back of the room.

‘Here’s what we found in Rechtnagel’s flat,’ Harry said, holding up a light bulb. ‘See the brown stain? That’s scorched rayon.’ He held up a white garment. ‘And this is the shirt Andrew was wearing when we found him. Drip-dry. Sixty per cent rayon. Rayon melts at 260 degrees Celsius. A light bulb is about 450 degrees on the surface. Can you see the brown stain over the breast pocket? That’s where the bulb was touching the shirt when we found him.’

‘Impressive physics, Holy,’ Watkins said. ‘Now tell us what you think happened.’

‘One of two things,’ Harry said. ‘Someone was there before us, saw Andrew hanging from the cable, switched off the light and left. The snag is, the only two registered keys for the flat were found on Otto and Andrew.’

‘The flat has a snap lock, doesn’t it?’ Watkins said. ‘Maybe this person unlocked the door and put the key in Andrew’s poc— . . . no, then Andrew wouldn’t have been able to get in.’ He blushed.

‘You may still have a point,’ Harry said. ‘My theory is that Andrew didn’t have a key to the flat. He was let in by someone who was already there or who arrived at the same time, someone who had the other key. This person was present when Andrew died. Afterwards he put the key in Andrew’s pocket so that it would look as if he had entered the flat alone. The fact that the key isn’t on the ring with the others suggests that. Then he switched off the light and closed the door after him as he left.’

Silence.

‘Are you saying Andrew Kensington was murdered?’ Watkins asked. ‘If so, how?’

‘I think Andrew was forced to inject himself with heroin, an overdose, probably at gunpoint.’

‘Why couldn’t he have done that before he arrived?’ Yong asked.

‘Firstly, I don’t believe that a controlled, seasoned addict like Andrew would suddenly give himself an overdose by accident. Secondly, Andrew didn’t have enough of his own supplies for an overdose.’

‘So why hang him?’

‘Giving an overdose is not an exact science. It’s not always easy to say how a hardened body will react. Perhaps he would have survived long enough for someone to find him alive. Though probably it was more to drug him up, so that he wouldn’t resist when he was stood on the chair with the cable round his neck. Ah, speaking of the cable. Lebie?’

Lebie manoeuvred the toothpick to the corner of his mouth with a bit of tongue-and-lip gymnastics.

‘We got the boys in Forensics to check the cable. Ceiling-lamp cables are rarely washed, right, and we thought it would be easy to get fingerprints. But it was as clean as a . . . er . . .’ Lebie fluttered a hand.

‘As something very clean?’ Yong suggested helpfully.

‘Right. The only prints to be found were our own.’

‘So, unless Andrew wiped the cable before hanging himself,’ Watkins concluded, ‘and slipped his head into the loop without using his fingers, someone else did it for him. Is that what you’re saying?’