I already knew the facts so I could spent the time it took Donovan to present the case to them watching my colleagues, observing them.
That is the thing when you work together with Sherlock Holmes for a while. You start to see your world differently, start to question every tiny detail. The stain on DS Gunby's shirt collar? Could be jam, could be lipstick. Sherlock would be able to tell.
I had to get myself out of this mindset quickly again before it would have driven me insane. He was better than me, knew more, saw more in those details I haven't barely noticed before.
It is one thing to notice the stain but a whole different matter to interpret it the right way and present the right facts.
They started to juggle theories. Sherlock would be repelled. Never theorise before… et cetera, et cetera. "Listen guys, I know you are eager to get things done, but can we stick to the facts for a second longer, please?" It was the first time I raised my voice during the meeting. I knew that communication is vital but I didn't want to give Donovan the feeling of her being my doormat. She did a good job with this case and she has potential to reach far.
They looked at me. "DS Donovan was so kind to already mention the CCTV footages. Furthermore I want to have a /well covered/ background check on Mr. and Mrs. Knell. Phone records are prior at the moment since they are the only door we can get a foot into." I paused to let them gain some time for any form of objections.
I liked how things like that came to life; everyone working on one tiny piece of the entire image and we would put it together in the end, draw a map and finally have the route from start to finish line. From offence to offender.
The team was well picked and it took them just around an hour to get first results. It wasn't difficult to obtain the information about Knell's messages and calls history. One number stood out. I allowed myself to hope for a knocking-off time by schedule.
I knew what they were doing now. Stripping down Alistair Knell. After all these years in the job it still felt like invading a life to an extend that wouldn't have been possible if the victim was still alive. Secrets would be revealed. Often just tiny, almost mundane ones like an addiction to collecting plush animals, to wear only red underwear, loveletters and porn, the love affair at the workplace. Hardly anything could shock us anymore.
Alistair wasn't an exception. By late afternoon I found myself in a room with an attractive woman just a little over 24. She was sobbing as soon as the news was broke to her. Donovan and I let her cry, drawing our conclusions from her reaction. After a while you get weary of it. The tears, the sobbing, the ever repeated question 'why'. It was difficult to not get impatient and too distant from it. There was a victim after all, a life that had been ended in a violent way from one moment to the other and the person in front of you just got to know of this fact.
"My god. I can't believe it. I saw him last week and now he is gone." I exchanged a look with Donovan. There went a suspect and from that moment on she became a witness.
"Ms. Culver, did you notice any changes in Mr. Knell's behaviour? Did he mention any kind of problems?" I asked gently and she blinked at Donovan. "It's Mrs, actually." We got a witness and we got a new suspect.