Murder in Court Three Read Online Free Page A

With a handful of no-shows, there were nearly three hundred people at the function, which was called Advocates and Archers. There were more than a hundred waiters, chefs, security people and attendants. The Edinburgh police had been busy and Flick found lists containing the names of all those entitled to be in the building, with addresses and phone numbers for many. Thirty tables, each seating ten, had been placed on the floor of Parliament Hall. The contact details of advocates and archers were in the dossier, but only the names of those invited as guests. The fifty waiting staff had been divided into teams of five, each team looking after three tables. The catering company had provided full details of all of them, plus the twenty-five chefs who had put the food on the plates. The security staff and attendants were also fully documented. Brief statements had been obtained from twenty-nine people. A number of them would need to be seen again. Once informed of what had happened, Mrs Knox was reported as being ‘inconsolable’ and her brother had refused to allow the police to ask any meaningful questions.
    The second file contained photographs of the scene. Flick was impressed by how grand the building looked, even in crime scene photographs. Parliament Hall had a particular majesty with its dark wooden rafters, highly-polished and lighter-coloured floor and huge stained-glass window at the South end. Great lawyers of the past, commemorated in stone or oils, observed whatever goings-on the twenty-first century brought in front of their haughty stares.
    Flick sat back, thinking. Then she busied herself making arrangements and printing excerpts from the files which she assembled into six folders. She knew that her willingness to undertake menial tasks generated respect from her team. She wondered if Chandavarkar had got her message and hoped she had not made it too peremptory. After all, she was not his line manager. It was the irritating tone of his recorded message that had made her speak more sharply than she had meant. She liked him and respected his abilities, but his cheeky, puerile attempts at humour were so annoying.
    Detective Sergeant Lance Wallace was the first to arrive in the incident room. The reassuring way he sat still, waiting to be told what was happening, boosted her confidence. ‘Dour’ was an adjective she had heard applied to him, but as far as she was concerned he was strong, silent and reliable. She gave him the short version of why they were being brought in. He showed no reaction other than a frown of concentration as he thought through the implications. Five minutes after six the odd couple, as they were known, entered together. Well-tanned and debonair, Detective Constable Billy di Falco looked cool and casual. His great friend, Detective Constable ‘Spider’ Gilsland, was a casualty of the warm weather. His crumpled shirt was stained at the front by chocolate ice cream and under the arms by sweat, while his baggy khaki shorts revealed the knobbliest knees Flick could remember seeing. At least he had sprayed himself generously with after-shave, although his bright red face suggested he should have used more sun cream.
    Ignoring their tale of car keys in the wrong trousers, she handed round the folders she had assembled, leaving one for her and two more on her desk. She had not copied the file on Lynda Traynor but began by explaining its contents and why they had been given the case.
    â€˜This is the crime we are dealing with,’ she said as she stuck a photograph at the top of the whiteboard. It showed a man in a dinner jacket lolling in a red leather chair. On the wall at his right shoulder part of a coat of arms was visible. The man had dark, wavy hair, thinning at the front, a sharp nose and a double chin. His mouth gaped in an expression of astonishment and blank eyes seemed to stare straight ahead. His hands had gone to his stomach, from which the end of an arrow