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his father was the duke of Suffolk? He the rich one?”
    “To the tune of five billion quid. Owns half of Covent Garden and the West End. Lord Russell here is the sole heir. Sorry to rouse you, but what with the title, I didn’t want there to be any cock-ups.”
    As duty officer of the Homicide Assessment Team, Laxton was the first detective called to the scene of a suspicious death or suicide. It was his job to conduct a preliminary investigation and decide whether to call in the murder squad.
    “No worries. You did the right thing.”
    Laxton began to say something, then bit back his words. “You all healed, then?” he asked after a moment.
    “Better than new.”
    “You’re looking wonderful,” he said, sincerity thin as paint. “I’m sorry about what happened to Billy. We all are.”
    Billy was Lieutenant William Donovan, Kate’s fiancé, as well as her superior in the Met. A month earlier, a high-profile arrest had gone bad when the suspect opened fire on the police without warning. Billy took a bullet in the chest and was dead before he hit the ground. Kate was shot twice in the lower abdomen. There was more to it than that, but she didn’t want to think about it right now.
    “At least it was fast,” Laxton went on. “No suffering, I mean. Still, it must have been a surprise. One second you’re knocking on the door, certain that you’ve got your man. Collar already pinned to the wall. The next, the bloke starts shooting like it’s the O.K. Corral. Don’t beat yourself up, Katie. Nobody else knew he had any priors. Why should you have?”
    Kate met Laxton’s eye.
You want me to cry, you preening little peacock
, she said to herself.
Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you
. “What’s this one do, then?” she asked, pointing at the body lying at her feet.
    Ken Laxton frowned. “No one around here knows. He came and went at all hours. By all accounts he was a serious chap. Not one of them carousers out burning through his millions.”
    “Run me through the protocol.”
    Laxton consulted his notepad. “Call came in at two forty-five. One of the residents heard the body hit. Lady on the second floor. One of them Saudi princesses. Said she thought it was a bomb. Al-Qaeda come to Hyde Park. Mayfair nick sent a radio car over. It arrived on scene at two fifty-five. They found him. The doorman identified the body.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Doorman said Russell entered the building through the garage and went straight up to his apartment. No more than ten minutes passed before he fell from the building. He’d been out to the parents’ for Sunday dinner.”
    “Was that a regular affair?”
    “Like clockwork, according to the doorman. Left every Sunday at six-thirty.”
    “Anyone with him when he returned?”
    “Doorman says no. He followed Russell on the CCTV into the elevator and all the way to his flat. He’s certain Russell was alone.”
    Kate made a mental note to interview the doorman herself. “Rather late to get in from the folks’ house, isn’t it?”
    “Maybe the duke
likes
to eat at midnight.”
    “Maybe,” said Kate. “Did the doorman notice if Russell was acting strangely? Drunk? Merry? Morose?”
    “Doorman didn’t speak with him, did he?”
    “Yes, that’s right. But you said another resident called it in. What about the doorman? Didn’t he see anything? I mean, Russell practically landed right in front of his face.”
    “Too dark. You know how you can’t see a thing out of a lit room. Same thing.”
    “What about the noise?”
    “Listening to his iPod, wasn’t he?” said Laxton. “Ask me, he’s telling the truth, though I did catch a whiff of something on his breath.”
    “I take it it wasn’t mouthwash?”
    “More like a bit of Bushmills.”
    Kate stared at Laxton. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone had a drink on duty.”
    Laxton colored, but said nothing. Two years earlier he’d been suspended for drinking on the job after the car he was driving mounted