on, son, give me a hand here.’
Lennon reached into her mouth to clear away any obstruction, while Clark held her on her side. ‘Come on, Miss Danby, cough it up, love, cough it up.’
Both men worked at trying to get her to breathe again but she fell back on the bed and was absolutely still.
‘Will I try mouth-to-mouth, Tom?’
‘Might as well make it a big night for “firsts”.’
Clark carried out textbook resuscitation until Lennon told him to stop. ‘It’s no good, son, she’s gone. You did your best but she wouldn’t have thanked you for it, anyway. She’s got what she wanted. Let’s get cleaned up before the cavalry arrive.’
At a little after 4.15 a.m. Ann Danby’s body was removed from Palmer Court. Miss Warren, still awake and standing at the window, watched the zipped-up plastic bag being loaded into the waiting ambulance in the courtyard. She swallowed as she saw the doors close and the vehicle move off. ‘Goodbye, Miss Danby,’ she whispered. ‘God bless.’
The body of Ann Danby was taken through silent, deserted streets to the local hospital, where she was formally pronounced dead on arrival by the houseman on duty. She was taken to the mortuary by the night porter on a covered trolley and transferred to a metal tray, which was slid into bay 3, row 4 of the mortuary fridge. The big toe on her left foot was labelled with her name and the date and time of her arrival.
There were no suspicious circumstances as far as the police were concerned: it seemed a clear case of suicide but, as with all sudden deaths, a post-mortem examination would be required before a death certificate could be issued; there could be no funeral without it. Establishing the exact cause of death would be the responsibility of a forensic pathologist. Arranging the funeral would be the responsibility of Ann Danby’s parents who at 4.30 in the morning did not yet know of their daughter’s death. The task of telling them fell to the two constables who had found her.
‘Another first,’ said Lennon as they turned into the Danbys’ street in a pleasant, tree-lined suburb. ‘Wakey wakey, your daughter’s dead. Jesus, what a game.’
Clark looked at him sideways. ‘I suppose you’ve done a lot of these,’ he said.
‘More than you’ve had hot dinners, my son. Your husband’s been involved in a car crash … Your wife’s been involved in an accident … Your son fell off his motor bike … We’ve found a body in the river and we think it may be …’
‘Will you tell them?’
‘Yeah. You can do it next time.’
‘Yes, who is it?’ asked a woman’s voice from behind the door of number 28.
‘Police. Could you open the door, please, madam?’
‘Do you have identification?’
Lennon pushed his warrant card through the letterbox and the door was opened. A small woman with white hair corralled in a hairnet stood there in her nightclothes. ‘It’s Johnny,’ she said. ‘He’s had an accident, hasn’t he? Oh my God, is he …?’
‘No, it’s not Johnny, madam. Do you think we could come inside? Is your husband awake?’
With both the Danbys sitting on the couch in the living room and the two constables facing them, the news of Ann’s death was broken to them. The fact that it was suicide seemed to come as an even bigger shock than her death.
‘I just can’t believe it,’ said Mr Danby. ‘Ann had everything to live for. She was doing so well in her job and up for promotion yet again. Why on earth would she do such a thing?’
‘When did you last see your daughter, sir?’
Mr Danby turned to his wife, who was sitting with head bowed and a handkerchief pressed to her face. ‘I suppose about two weeks ago. She came to lunch. She seemed absolutely fine. But you spoke to her on the phone the other night, didn’t you, Alison?’
She nodded mutely, then after a pause said, ‘She thought she was getting flu and might have to stay off work. She didn’t like doing that; she was always so
Lennon reached into her mouth to clear away any obstruction, while Clark held her on her side. ‘Come on, Miss Danby, cough it up, love, cough it up.’
Both men worked at trying to get her to breathe again but she fell back on the bed and was absolutely still.
‘Will I try mouth-to-mouth, Tom?’
‘Might as well make it a big night for “firsts”.’
Clark carried out textbook resuscitation until Lennon told him to stop. ‘It’s no good, son, she’s gone. You did your best but she wouldn’t have thanked you for it, anyway. She’s got what she wanted. Let’s get cleaned up before the cavalry arrive.’
At a little after 4.15 a.m. Ann Danby’s body was removed from Palmer Court. Miss Warren, still awake and standing at the window, watched the zipped-up plastic bag being loaded into the waiting ambulance in the courtyard. She swallowed as she saw the doors close and the vehicle move off. ‘Goodbye, Miss Danby,’ she whispered. ‘God bless.’
The body of Ann Danby was taken through silent, deserted streets to the local hospital, where she was formally pronounced dead on arrival by the houseman on duty. She was taken to the mortuary by the night porter on a covered trolley and transferred to a metal tray, which was slid into bay 3, row 4 of the mortuary fridge. The big toe on her left foot was labelled with her name and the date and time of her arrival.
There were no suspicious circumstances as far as the police were concerned: it seemed a clear case of suicide but, as with all sudden deaths, a post-mortem examination would be required before a death certificate could be issued; there could be no funeral without it. Establishing the exact cause of death would be the responsibility of a forensic pathologist. Arranging the funeral would be the responsibility of Ann Danby’s parents who at 4.30 in the morning did not yet know of their daughter’s death. The task of telling them fell to the two constables who had found her.
‘Another first,’ said Lennon as they turned into the Danbys’ street in a pleasant, tree-lined suburb. ‘Wakey wakey, your daughter’s dead. Jesus, what a game.’
Clark looked at him sideways. ‘I suppose you’ve done a lot of these,’ he said.
‘More than you’ve had hot dinners, my son. Your husband’s been involved in a car crash … Your wife’s been involved in an accident … Your son fell off his motor bike … We’ve found a body in the river and we think it may be …’
‘Will you tell them?’
‘Yeah. You can do it next time.’
‘Yes, who is it?’ asked a woman’s voice from behind the door of number 28.
‘Police. Could you open the door, please, madam?’
‘Do you have identification?’
Lennon pushed his warrant card through the letterbox and the door was opened. A small woman with white hair corralled in a hairnet stood there in her nightclothes. ‘It’s Johnny,’ she said. ‘He’s had an accident, hasn’t he? Oh my God, is he …?’
‘No, it’s not Johnny, madam. Do you think we could come inside? Is your husband awake?’
With both the Danbys sitting on the couch in the living room and the two constables facing them, the news of Ann’s death was broken to them. The fact that it was suicide seemed to come as an even bigger shock than her death.
‘I just can’t believe it,’ said Mr Danby. ‘Ann had everything to live for. She was doing so well in her job and up for promotion yet again. Why on earth would she do such a thing?’
‘When did you last see your daughter, sir?’
Mr Danby turned to his wife, who was sitting with head bowed and a handkerchief pressed to her face. ‘I suppose about two weeks ago. She came to lunch. She seemed absolutely fine. But you spoke to her on the phone the other night, didn’t you, Alison?’
She nodded mutely, then after a pause said, ‘She thought she was getting flu and might have to stay off work. She didn’t like doing that; she was always so
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