Scratch Deeper by Chris Simms Page A

female inspector’s. Just a touch more French. ‘Thanks for getting in touch, Harish.’
    â€˜That is my pleasure. I have sent the Appleton file to your email address, as requested. But I find it always helps to discuss a case rather than rely on the notes alone.’
    â€˜Absolutely,’ Iona replied, clicking on her inbox. No sign of the file as yet. She reached for her pen. ‘So you were directly involved with the case?’
    â€˜Senior investigating officer.’
    â€˜And what were your impressions about the murder?’
    â€˜Monstrous. And a tragic waste of a life. I think my colleague mentioned the thief had already gained access to the safe.’
    â€˜Yes, she mentioned Appleton was killed when he raised the alarm.’
    â€˜That’s right – the maid was woken by it. She saw the suspect running from the scene.’
    Iona put an elbow on the table and rested her forehead on the tips of her fingers. Something seemed odd here. ‘Why kill him?’
    â€˜Pardon?’
    â€˜I’m just wondering, why kill him?’
    â€˜Who knows what goes on in this type of person’s mind?’
    â€˜True. But that would have taken up valuable time, surely? Why not just run when the alarm went off?’
    â€˜Rage. Anger at Appleton raising the alarm and forcing him to flee the scene sooner than he wanted to. Many items of great value had been overlooked.’
    â€˜What were those?’
    â€˜The murder weapon, for one.’
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜A stone sculpture – an early one by a British artist. Henry Moore?’
    The name was faintly familiar. ‘Expensive, I take it?’
    â€˜Well, we’ve had to take special precautions in storing it as evidence. It is currently in a vault here at our headquarters in Port Louis.’
    â€˜And this was used to bludgeon Appleton with?’
    â€˜Yes – there are plenty of crime-scene photos with the file. They are not pleasant.’
    Fingerprint ID of the body, Iona thought. Yuk. ‘So whoever murdered him was then seen leaving by the maid . . .’
    â€˜Yes. She turned on the lights in her rooms at the side of the villa and observed a single male, who was carrying a bag, running across the lawn. The first officers arrived at the scene within ten minutes.’
    Iona still couldn’t shake the feeling something was out of place. ‘How do you know it was Appleton who raised the alarm?’
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’ The man was starting to sound exasperated.
    Iona didn’t know where the hell she was going with her questions. ‘Could the alarm have been triggered by something else? The safe being opened?’
    â€˜Ah, I see. No, it was Appleton,’ he stated emphatically.
    â€˜Because . . .?’
    â€˜He was found slumped at the top of his bed and it was his bloody fingerprint on the panic button above it.’
    Iona lifted her chin. ‘I see. Sorry for going on . . . I was just trying to get it all straight in my head.’
    â€˜If it is of reassurance, British Embassy staff were closely involved in the investigation. And someone flew over from your security services – MI6.’
    â€˜Did they?’ Iona murmured, thinking that Wallace’s request to see the Appleton file would surely have triggered a flag with the security services down in London. Funny how a superintendent halfway round the world can get back to me faster than them. ‘So he checked the crime scene over, too?’
    â€˜Yes – but alone. He played his cards very close to his breast.’
    â€˜Chest,’ Iona remarked.
    â€˜Chest, yes. Close to his chest. But he quickly agreed – a burglary that escalated into something far more tragic.’
    â€˜Your colleague mentioned to me that you have a prime suspect.’
    â€˜Ranjit Bhujun.’
    â€˜Why him?’
    â€˜Forensic evidence left on the Henry Moore sculpture and the doorframe leading into Mr