Never Walk Away by Nick Triplow

Author:Nick Triplow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: No Exit Press
Published: 2023-07-10T15:14:22+00:00

30

Max

Shortly before 3am on Thursday morning, Max received the call that Caroline Labrosse had been found dead. By 4.10am, he was lifting incident tape at the end of the Labrosse driveway, edging past a scenes of crime officer labelling evidence bags under arc lights. Evidently, they’d been there most of the night. In the house, Rothwell’s was the first voice he recognised, directing activity in the living room. A forensic officer in full PPE lifted prints from a wine-stained glass. ‘Another ten or fifteen minutes, then we’re done.’

Rothwell nodded. ‘Good.’

Max looked in from the doorway. The place was hot and smelled of piss and disinfectant.

Rothwell acknowledged his presence with a raised hand. ‘Wait outside.’

Max had the urge to pick things up, to be left alone to read the scene his own way and in his own time. Rothwell wasn’t about to let that happen. The kitchen was the same mess of stacked crockery, empty wine bottles and food-dried plates he’d left on Tuesday night. Caroline’s cigarettes were loose on the worktop, the lighter dropped in the empty packet. Death gave the clutter a squalid significance.

‘Didn’t this woman ever do the dishes?’ Rothwell came through, pulling the mask from his face.

‘So,’ said Max. ‘Is this a crime scene or another episode in the Labrosse family tragedy?’

‘When we have the evidence we’ll make an assessment,’ Rothwell said quietly. ‘We’ve found a lot of prescription medication in the bedroom. More than you’d expect. Nothing’s ruled out.’

‘Because she worked in a hospital?’

Rothwell paused. ‘Post-mortem later today, so let’s not prejudge anything.’

The forensic officer put his head around the door. ‘Finished in the living room, sir. We’re just about cleared up.’

‘Cheers. Go home, grab a couple of hours, we’ll catch up later.’ Rothwell waited until the front door clicked shut and they were alone. ‘You’d better come through.’

Rothwell led Max into the living room. He indicated the squat lopsided sofa. ‘This was where she was found. A neighbour called. The lights were on all day yesterday. They notice things like that around here.’

Max looked around the place. ‘Don’t be surprised if you find my prints and DNA on those wine glasses. I was here Tuesday night.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s a case I’m working on – you know why. I had fresh information.’

‘Which you thought you’d share over a few glasses of Shiraz with Mrs Labrosse.’

Max gave a shrug. ‘I had a glass.’

‘Was she cooperative?’

A nod. ‘As best as she could be.’

‘What was her state of mind?’

‘She was pretty pissed off. Mainly with how she’d been kept in the dark over her husband’s death. She was frightened of being alone, had no idea how she was going to pick up her life, but she didn’t come across as someone ready to take their own life if that’s what you’re asking. Far from it.’

‘But you gave her a shoulder to cry on, that’s nice.’

Max shot him a look. ‘You know there’s a daughter.’

‘She’s been contacted.’ Rothwell walked to the patio doors and looked into the garden. The sun was coming up.

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