‘Closure—phffft—ridiculous term thought up by psychotherapists to justify their jobs.’ Bryant waved the idea away.
‘Yes, closure—by finding out why this happened and ensuring that justice is done.’ May jabbed a forefinger back in the direction of the common room. ‘Life is going on out there, not in here in your books. And if that isn’t enough for you, maybe it really is time to retire.’
Bryant watched his partner storm from the room with a heavy heart. He was not himself today; the news of Anna Marquand’s death had upset him more than he realised.
As for the case, he could sense a greater tragedy at work, and as much as he hated to deceive John, he was powerless to act until he had some proof. Part of the answer lay right in front of them, but May needed to reach the same conclusion independently before they could act together.
He picked up the phone and punched out Banbury’s number. ‘Dan, are you terribly busy? I want to examine the layout of the Kramers’ penthouse, right now if possible. Could you come with me?’
‘Sure thing, Mr Bryant.’
Bryant rose and rubbed his back, then jammed his shapeless trilby onto his head.
They pulled up outside 376 Northumberland Avenue in Bryant’s old yellow Mini Cooper. Banbury had been alarmed to find that he needed a bent teaspoon to keep the seatbelt in its clasp. Bryant squinted up through the smeary windscreen as he tried to avoid hitting the kerb. He had refused to be dissuaded from driving this time. ‘The doctor says Mrs Kramer’s in her bedroom asleep and can’t be disturbed under any circumstances, but I need to take another look at the nursery.’
Banbury got out and peered down. ‘You can’t park here, it’s a double red line.’
‘What are you talking about? I’m elderly, I can do whatever I want. Here. I had Renfield knock it up.’ He threw a forged disabled card onto the dashboard.
‘You’re not allowed to do that.’
‘I’m colour-blind. That’s a disability.’
‘There’s been a huge rise in senior citizen crime in the capital lately, you know,’ said Banbury.
‘Quite right, too. There should be some compensations for the horrors of getting old. Come along.’
‘I don’t know why we’re back here. I gave the place a thorough going-over. There’s no more evidence to lift.’
‘I don’t want to gather evidence,’ said Bryant. ‘I want to understand.’
‘So do I. Usually I get a sense of what went on, but this one—’ Banbury shook his head. ‘I didn’t pick it up at all.’
They made their way up to the front door and were admitted by the Kramers’ nanny, who showed them to the great glass lounge.
Seating himself, Banbury opened his laptop and pointed to the design he had created. ‘This is the layout of the place.’
‘Oh, I don’t need a computer program to see that,’ said Bryant. ‘Here, I made my own drawing.’ He unfolded a damp piece of paper and tried to lay it flat. ‘How’s that for draughtsmanship?’
‘Incredible,’ Banbury admitted. ‘It could be anything. It looks like a henhouse drawn by Picasso.’
‘I was trying to capture the building’s spiritual resonance.’
‘It would help if you put the doors in. Let’s work from my layout, shall we? Okay, it’s a corner property on two floors with windows on both sides. Two-thirds of the lower floor is given over to the lounge, with kitchen, loo, TV room and service room coming off the corridor from the front door, main staircase and elevator. The rear door opens onto the fire escape at the back, which is where the guests went to smoke. A single staircase goes up to the floor above, where there are three bedrooms and three bathrooms. The bedrooms are as follows: main double, guest double, smaller guest room. It’s this last one that was made into a nursery.’
‘No fire escape on the top floor?’
‘No. The idea is that if there’s a fire you’d make your way down one floor and use the rear exit.’
‘Can you get onto the roof?’
‘There was access before the conversion, but it was removed.’
‘How long does it take to get from the lounge door to the nursery door?’
‘I timed it climbing the stairs at a fast pace. Seven to ten seconds.’
‘The nursery is at the end of the hall, so you pass the other two rooms and the toilet first. In theory, someone could have been hiding in one of the other rooms.’
‘Unlikely. Although they aren’t lockable, Mrs Kramer closed them before the party because she didn’t want anyone going into the private areas, and hers are the only prints on the handles.’