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Chapter 3. The dead man
They entered the crowded hall. People have a strange interest in death – wherever is blood, there are gossipers. Sorrel looked annoyed.
"What an awfully big place…"
"It might be awfully expensive, I guess"
John attempted to keep the conversation going. He had obviously fallen head over hills for this woman. Sherlock noticed it right away and smirked. Despite his good looks and kindness, doctor wasn't really lucky in love. In fact, Sorrel was lost in her own thoughts and didn't even hear John's remark.
Lestrade lead the group to the elevator, then pressed the 4th floor button.
"All residents were moved from that floor, only our teams are working up there" he said while the lift cage was slowly moving and a pleasant music flowed from invisible loud-speakers.
Doors silently opened on the luxurious corridor. Steps got drowned in the bright red carpet. Forensics team was gathering evidence a bit further away in the hallway. DI Lestrade and Mlle Sorrel leaded the group to the crime scene. Apparently hesitating, the young woman asked Gregg:
"By the way, Detective, who are those guys?.."
He didn't get who she was talking about and she pointed Holmes and Watson who were following behind.
"Oh, that's… hum…" Lestrade was clearly embarrassed. Everybody in his team knew about the Consulting Detective, but a French policeman wouldn't know, and moreover the idea of having a civilian messing with the case might be not so great. "They are… sort of consultants here."
"Consultants?" She raised her eyebrows. Suddenly she stopped in the middle of the corridor and abruptly turned to face Sherlock. They looked at each other defiantly for a long moment.
"Problem?" He said finally.
"Not yet." Then she seemed to remember something. "Oh right! The net phenomenon." A sweet malicious smile illuminated her face. She glanced at John: "You have an awesome blog." And without waiting for a reply, she went in the open door.
Unfortunately she was blocked by a long-haired man in forensic suit. "And who are YOU? I can't allow civilians on my crime scene!"
His subordinate's inappropriate behavior took Lestrade by surprise, but Sorrel didn't flinch.
"Oh, but I am NOT a civilian" she said and simply moved Anderson out of her way by angrily staring at him. While Greg and John were still confused, Sherlock burst out laughing and followed her in the room.
It was a spacious suite. Gold and light brown colors were dominating. Beside signs of investigation, one would say the room was barely used. There was a huge grey case left open near the Victorian styled bedside table. Lying down on immaculate yellow silk sheets, the body of Robert Mercier was a dark spot in this dreamy place. Miss Sorrel went straight to the body and leaned to carefully examine the dead man. While she was at it, Holmes wandered around with his magnifier out of the pocket, taking mental notes of the scene arrangement.
After getting the silent consent from Lestrade, John joined Sorrel in the examination of the body. Apparently she wasn't disposed to share her opinion, and swiftly retreated. Frowning, Dr Watson inspected the corpse. Lestrade stayed at the doorstep, and Miss Sorrel tried to not get in the way of 'consultants'. Holmes already finished his observation, and then got interested in the victim.
"What do you think, John?" he asked.
"He's dead for some time already… I'd say more than 12 hours. Strangled. With this scarf and a stick, obviously, it's still around his neck. However… I can't find any marks of resistance."
"Really?"
Sherlock started his own assessment. He quickly retraced all significant facts about the victim. This man was taking care of himself, but he was not what you'd call an athlete. He already had a heart attack, three to four years ago. There was nothing left in his pockets, not even a passport or a plane ticket, which was surprising, knowing he was killed just after checking in. Sherlock remembered seeing the documents carefully stored on the coffee table. Would a normal person leave it there? The scarf used to strangle Robert was probably his own, the color matched his coat left in the entrance, but where did this stick come from? It was used to ensure the strangulation. Usually, this method was employed by physically weak killers. Or people who loved to get off with little effort. After taking a good look of the murder weapon, he was about to ask something, when Miss Sorrel finally talked. Until now she was just observing their activity, silently leant against the wall.
"It really is Robert. I wasn't certain at first, but couldn't mistake him for anyone else."
"That's getting easier" was Consultant Detective's reaction.
Twelve seconds later, he was triumphantly smirking while searching some additional data on his phone. That was the moment Anderson chose to pop up behind Lestrade.
"It's a robbery. The thief was about to get caught and killed this French guy" he said, convinced that his guess was correct.
"Oh, please, shut up!" shouted Holmes and Sorrel with one voice. Everybody stared at them with surprise, and they defied each other again with distrustful glares. Eventually, Sorrel chose to surrender and looked away with a pout. Making an irritated expression and glaring at Anderson and Sorrel alternately, Sherlock started his explanation:
"He was killed for a less petty reason than a simple robbery. This modus operandi is too sophisticated and quite sadistic. And as Dr Watson said, this man did not resist. He was fully awake; there are no traces of him being hit, no traces of drugs, so why would he let himself be killed? He must have had a good reason for…"
Her clear voice interrupted his showing-off: "His son."
"Excuse me?"
"Eric Mercier, 10 years-old son of the victim. Is he at the police station?" she asked Lestrade.
"There is nobody…" he started.
"He was here. You must have seen it, right? In the case." She looked agitated.
"What's in the case?" Anderson said with an apparent disgust.
"Child clothes" Sherlock reacted after a quick glance to the bedside. "He came on a trip with his son. That means…"
"They took the kid." After a breath, French detective continued: "And most likely, they…"
"… got the information they wanted" Consulting Detective finished her sentence. "I have to check on something" he said and stormed out the room.
"Well, then, see you!" John added before following him in the corridor.
"Is he always this sharing?.." Miss Sorrel didn't look like wanting an answer, but Lestrade couldn't resist:
"And that was him being in a good mood."
"Poor you… "Then she suddenly offered: "Want me to keep an eye on those two? I'll report you everything they find." That was rather an unexpected turn of events.
"What do you mean?" Lestrade asked just to be sure he heard it right.
"I'd like to observe their methods. I know my presence is enforced to you, so it'll be beneficial to both of us." She was gazing at the door, lost in her thoughts but still speaking loud and clear.
Detective Inspector surrendered rather quickly: "Well, I guess it's your choice, do as you want."
"Ta." She left the room promptly and yet gracefully.
