Scotch Mist by Elizabeth Darrell Page A

diazepam and vodka.’
    George’s eyebrows rose. ‘Suicide?’
    â€˜Or murder. Whichever, it means I have two cases on the go now. The report states that she would have recovered from the chest wound.’ Max gave a sour smile. ‘The Jocks’ll have to keep their heads down now, and you’ll have to set patrols outside their quarters for a few nights. Sure to be a return match.’ He waved a hand at the inner door. ‘Do you still have the woman’s stuff collected from the Greenes’ house?’
    George reached out to take a key from a board on the wall. ‘He’s been informed that we have it, but there’s been no request for access from him. It’s possibly because the Drumdorrans are still allocating quarters, and because McTavish was virtually living at the hospital I guess he wasn’t regarded as a priority.’ He led the way to the secure area where lost property, vital evidence in ongoing cases, and the effects of the dead were kept. ‘The daughter of a close friend took a load of happy pills. Doctors fought for hours to save her, and they did. Problem is, she’s so brain damaged she needs twenty-four-hour care. Geoff and Eunice have virtually given up their lives to look after her. Makes no sense to me.’
    How many times had Max wondered about his own future if Susan had survived the car crash as a semi-zombie? He pushed the thought away and concentrated on real problems.
    â€˜I’m hoping to find a suicide note,’ he said as the other man unlocked the metal door allowing entry to the chilly, stone-floored store. ‘An envelope gathered up by whoever collected the stuff, unaware of its importance because we then believed Eva had died from the chest wound. A suicide note would clarify the situation.’
    Walking to the far end of the racks, George indicated two suitcases, a zipped holdall and a sensible black handbag. ‘Babs Turvey did the necessary. She’s out on patrol right now, but you’ll catch her at fourteen hundred if you need to question her.’ Preparing to leave Max to it, he asked with a frown, ‘You’re not seriously considering murder, are you?’
    â€˜No, not yet, but the lack of any indication that the woman meant to kill herself will force me to. Face the facts, George. The Drumdorrans marched in that very morning, yet neither Eva nor her man made an effort to meet. Perhaps understandable during that afternoon when the men were settling in, but why did Eva stay another night with Jean – or, at least, plan to? She hadn’t seen Hector for three months because he’d been with the band touring the US, yet she was apparently in no hurry to meet him. It’s not difficult to guess there were outstanding issues between them, is it?’
    â€˜Which could only be settled with Eva’s death?’
    â€˜That seems to be a possible case, until we delve deeper into their lives and discover an alternative scenario. A suicide note would clarify the situation and maybe tell us why she felt she had no reason to live.’
    George hesitated in the doorway. ‘Funny way to commit suicide, watching a firework display. Most pill swallowers do it at home; in bed, in the bath, on the fireside rug – even sitting in the car in the garage, the point being that they can be sure of not being found before life’s extinct. Doing it in a public arena would surely result in help being summoned too soon.’
    â€˜Exactly why I have to keep an open mind. As you say, it’s a curious venue to choose. We may find it was just a cry for help on her part. Being injured scuppered her plan to collapse amid a helpful crowd, and that very injury delayed recognition of the fatal symptoms in the one place where resuscitation would have been swift. Sod’s Law, George.’
    Max first opened the no-nonsense handbag. It contained all the essentials, but none of the clutter many women carry