When we examined his computer, we found that David Kuzneski bought sixty tablets for less than thirty pounds on a US internet site, without the need for a prescription.’
‘He can’t have taken all sixty.’
‘No, surely not. Even fifteen tablets are a lot to take at once. A larger number becomes physically difficult to swallow.’
‘So have we found the ones that were left?’
‘Not yet. We’re still looking.’
‘They could be important,’ said Cooper, though he didn’t know why and was glad that Villiers didn’t ask.
‘Kuzneski?’ she said instead. ‘What do you think …?’
‘It’s a Polish name.’
‘Yes, but he isn’t a recent immigrant. He was born in Sheffield and his family are from Sheffield too.’
‘He probably had a grandfather who settled in the area after the Second World War. There were quite afew Poles here already before the EU. They just didn’t have the delicatessens.’
‘There’s no indication here that he left a note,’ said Villiers.
‘No, and that’s odd, isn’t it?’
‘Why?’
‘If he was married. There would usually be a letter or a message of some kind for the wife, even it’s to say, “
It’s all your fault
”.’
‘Perhaps we should ask Mrs Kuzneski again. She might have been treated with kid gloves at the time of the death.’
‘Whereas we can be tougher on her now?’ said Cooper. ‘So which of us is going to play bad cop?’
Villiers grinned. ‘I know you can’t do it, Ben. But I can.’
‘That’s why I like you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘By the way, there’s a note in the file here that Kuzneski’s funeral is this week.’
‘Interesting. That’s worth bearing in mind.’
Villiers looked up and met his eyes. ‘Lithium carbonate,’ she said. ‘It’s prescribed for the treatment of bipolar disorders. What they used to call manic depression.’
‘I know,’ said Cooper.
‘David Kuzneski had been suffering from a bipolar condition for nearly eighteen months before his death. It was why he’d been on sick leave from his job for a while. The condition was getting worse, despite the medication.’
‘Then he bought himself an extra supply of lithiumcarbonate tablets online, presumably without his doctor’s knowledge.’
‘And he took enough of them to end his own life.’
‘Mmm,’ said Cooper thoughtfully. ‘I doubt his GP told him what a lethal dose would be, though. That would be totally unethical.’
‘Of course. What are you thinking?’
‘That he must have got the information somewhere else, of course. And what about our latest case, Roger Farrell. He’s from Nottingham?’
‘Right. Forest Fields,’ said Villiers. ‘We’ve managed a good geographical spread, haven’t we? Just in these last few cases, we’ve got Nottingham, Derby and Sheffield. It’s almost as if they’ve been chosen to have as little connection as possible.’
‘And their jobs too. Farrell worked as a sales representative.’
‘Yes, for a company producing memory foam beds, orthopaedic mattresses and back-care products.’
Cooper shook his head. ‘I don’t see any connection from these reports. Quite the opposite.’
‘Nor me.’
‘We need to look at each individual and check their online activity. Look for any connections between them, any links or references to suicide websites.’
Villiers made a note. ‘Okay. And there’s this one too,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if it fits, though.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s a man called Anson Tate, who attempted suicide from a bridge here in Edendale.’
‘I remember that,’ said Cooper. ‘The bridge incident.’
Andit wasn’t just any bridge either – it had been the seventeenth-century Bargate Bridge, much photographed by tourists, where water foamed over a stone weir and the riverbed was littered with dangerous rocks.
Mr Tate’s leap into the River Eden had been prevented by passers-by at the last moment. He’d left a note in a bag on the pavement, which had
‘He can’t have taken all sixty.’
‘No, surely not. Even fifteen tablets are a lot to take at once. A larger number becomes physically difficult to swallow.’
‘So have we found the ones that were left?’
‘Not yet. We’re still looking.’
‘They could be important,’ said Cooper, though he didn’t know why and was glad that Villiers didn’t ask.
‘Kuzneski?’ she said instead. ‘What do you think …?’
‘It’s a Polish name.’
‘Yes, but he isn’t a recent immigrant. He was born in Sheffield and his family are from Sheffield too.’
‘He probably had a grandfather who settled in the area after the Second World War. There were quite afew Poles here already before the EU. They just didn’t have the delicatessens.’
‘There’s no indication here that he left a note,’ said Villiers.
‘No, and that’s odd, isn’t it?’
‘Why?’
‘If he was married. There would usually be a letter or a message of some kind for the wife, even it’s to say, “
It’s all your fault
”.’
‘Perhaps we should ask Mrs Kuzneski again. She might have been treated with kid gloves at the time of the death.’
‘Whereas we can be tougher on her now?’ said Cooper. ‘So which of us is going to play bad cop?’
Villiers grinned. ‘I know you can’t do it, Ben. But I can.’
‘That’s why I like you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘By the way, there’s a note in the file here that Kuzneski’s funeral is this week.’
‘Interesting. That’s worth bearing in mind.’
Villiers looked up and met his eyes. ‘Lithium carbonate,’ she said. ‘It’s prescribed for the treatment of bipolar disorders. What they used to call manic depression.’
‘I know,’ said Cooper.
‘David Kuzneski had been suffering from a bipolar condition for nearly eighteen months before his death. It was why he’d been on sick leave from his job for a while. The condition was getting worse, despite the medication.’
‘Then he bought himself an extra supply of lithiumcarbonate tablets online, presumably without his doctor’s knowledge.’
‘And he took enough of them to end his own life.’
‘Mmm,’ said Cooper thoughtfully. ‘I doubt his GP told him what a lethal dose would be, though. That would be totally unethical.’
‘Of course. What are you thinking?’
‘That he must have got the information somewhere else, of course. And what about our latest case, Roger Farrell. He’s from Nottingham?’
‘Right. Forest Fields,’ said Villiers. ‘We’ve managed a good geographical spread, haven’t we? Just in these last few cases, we’ve got Nottingham, Derby and Sheffield. It’s almost as if they’ve been chosen to have as little connection as possible.’
‘And their jobs too. Farrell worked as a sales representative.’
‘Yes, for a company producing memory foam beds, orthopaedic mattresses and back-care products.’
Cooper shook his head. ‘I don’t see any connection from these reports. Quite the opposite.’
‘Nor me.’
‘We need to look at each individual and check their online activity. Look for any connections between them, any links or references to suicide websites.’
Villiers made a note. ‘Okay. And there’s this one too,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if it fits, though.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s a man called Anson Tate, who attempted suicide from a bridge here in Edendale.’
‘I remember that,’ said Cooper. ‘The bridge incident.’
Andit wasn’t just any bridge either – it had been the seventeenth-century Bargate Bridge, much photographed by tourists, where water foamed over a stone weir and the riverbed was littered with dangerous rocks.
Mr Tate’s leap into the River Eden had been prevented by passers-by at the last moment. He’d left a note in a bag on the pavement, which had
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