“Oh, crap,” said Jack.
“What?”
“I just told Briggs that Humpty had committed suicide because of depression brought on by Easter. You’re sure, right?”
“Of course. People who are depressed can get murdered, you know.”
Jack sighed and walked to the front of Humpty’s patchworked corpse to look at the exit wound again. “Caliber?”
Mrs. Singh thought for a moment. “Difficult to say. Skinner will confirm this, but it would have to be a powerful handgun. The distance between entrance and exit is about four feet. Albumen has a high viscosity, so you’d need a powerful slug to get all the way through. If I was forced to an opinion, I’d say something like a.357 or a.44. The slug must have come to earth not more than fifty feet away; I think there will be barely a scratch on it. Find a weapon and ballistics will have a nice easy one for a change.”
“Anything else?”
“Not a lot. We can say for certain that he died between midnight and two in the morning, and you already have my report about the high alcohol levels. There was one other thing that puzzled me, though.” She pointed to his body. “It was this section of shell, here on his waistline — or neckline, if you prefer.”
They peered closer at what would appear to be a small hole.
“Any ideas?” asked Jack.
“It is exactly one-quarter of an inch in width, so I am thinking it was drilled in him — and deliberately, too.”
“Why do you say that?”
“There was a Band-Aid covering it.”
“Drug abuse?”
“Quite possibly. I’ve run the usual tests. I’ll let you know as soon as I have something.”
She handed Jack her preliminary report. It wasn’t thick, just a few typewritten pages and a diagram of Humpty’s body with the bullet track marked in red pen.
“You’re a marvel, Mrs. Singh.”
“No,” she replied wearily, “I just do long hours.”
They walked down the corridor deep in thought. Jack was wondering where he was going to start on the investigation and Mary was thinking about how amazed she was that Chymes had been correct. Humpty’s murder was a lot more involved than Jack had thought. If anyone could handle it, Friedland could. They had got used to the smell of the formaldehyde, and the streets of Reading smelled sweeter than they ever had before.
17. The Inquiry Begins
ALIENS BORING, REPORT SHOWS
An official report confirms what most of us have already suspected: that the alien visitors who arrived unexpectedly on the planet four years ago are not particularly bright, nor interesting. The thirteen-page government document describes our interstellar chums as being “dull” and “unable to plan long-term.” The report, which has been compiled from citizenship application forms and interview transcripts, paints a picture of a race who are “prone to put high importance on inconsequential minutiae” and are “easily distracted from important issues.” On an entirely separate note, the aliens were reported to be merging into human society far better than has been expected — the reason for this is unclear.
As they walked back into the office, they found Tibbit standing guiltily by Jack’s chair, which was still moving. He looked like a puppy that had been caught sleeping on the sofa. Jack hid a smile.
“Red rum, Tibbit,” he said.
“Murder?”
“So it appears. Humpty didn’t fall, and he didn’t jump. Mary, we should speak to his ex-wife again.”
Mary picked up the phone, and Jack looked at the photograph of Humpty talking to Charles Pewter, the stockbroker. Humpty’s illogical purchase of Spongg shares seemed as good as anyplace to start an inquiry. He looked at the snap of Humpty with Solomon Grundy. Jack had dismissed him earlier, but now anyone who had a vested interest in the financial health of Spongg Footcare PLC had to be a suspect. He pinned the picture of Humpty and Solomon on the board and stared at it.
Tibbit held up a small evidence bag with two spent twelve-bore cartridges in it.
“These came down from Chymes’s office, sir. DS Flotsam himself brought them in. And do you know what? He’s not really chirpy or cockney at all!”
“It’s an act for Amazing Crime, Otto. Run them across to Skinner, would you? He knows what they’re for.”
Mary opened her notebook and selected a blank page for Chymes’s benefit, then wrote “Grundy,” “.44 caliber,” “28-foot auburn hair” and “Mrs. Dumpty.” She then snapped it shut guiltily and looked up. But no one was watching her.
At that moment two officers walked into the room. One was short and the other long.
The shorter of the two was pale blue in color and had the body layout of a human except with elbows and knees that bent both ways and three fingers and two opposable thumbs on each hand. His police uniform was tailored to fit, but even so he still looked uncomfortable in it. Although Mary had seen pictures of aliens, she’d never actually witnessed one up close before and found herself staring.
“What are you looking at?” asked Ashley innocently, blinking laterally at her, which is unnerving the first time you see it done.
“Nothing,” mumbled Mary, trying hard not to stare, and she looked away, which felt awkward and more rude, so she looked back and then felt she was staring — and the whole cycle went around again.
She felt herself begin to flush, but Jack, whether sensing her discomfort or not, rescued her by saying, “PC 100111 is a Rambosian. His full name is 1001111001000100111011100100, but that’s a bit of a mouthful, so we just call him Ashley. Ashley, this is DS Mary Mary.”
“Hullo!” said Ashley, putting out a hand for Mary to shake. His hand was unusually warm and adhered to her palm with a dry stickiness that was odd but not unpleasant. As soon as she touched him, however, she had a fleeting and extremely vivid glimpse of herself and this strange creature rolling naked in a slimy and passionate embrace in a shallow marsh under twin setting suns. Ashley quickly pulled his hand away, went bright blue and blinked nervously.
“Is that the time?” he said quickly. “I’ve just remembered there’s something I need to do. Good-bye.”
And he darted out the door.
“Rambosians sometimes project their inner thoughts with touch,” explained Jack. “Did you see anything?”
“Nothing,” replied Mary, a little too firmly for anyone to believe her.
“A good lad,” continued Jack, peering out the door to see if Ashley was out of earshot and lowering his voice. “He’s here as part of the alien equal-opportunities program. No one else would work with him, so he came down to us.”
“Can he do that thought thing in reverse?” asked Mary. “It might be useful.”
“I never asked,” replied Jack. “Why don’t you bring it up with him? But be careful. The first thing you learn about aliens is that they don’t quite… get it.”
“Get what?”
“It. Us. The whole bit. You’ll see. The second thing you learn is that they’re really not that interesting, so don’t strike up a conversation without a good reason to excuse yourself. Despite that, Ashley excels with records, filing, indexing and general data crunching.”
“It’s not as though I actually wanted to be a policeman,” said Ashley, who had returned as quickly as he left, “but the filing here is to die for.”