Dead Before Morning #1 Rafferty & Llewellyn procedural

Dead Before Morning CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE 

Llewellyn broke into his reverie. 'I had a word with Constable Hanks. Seems the body was found this morning by one of the gate porters.' He consulted his notes. 'Name of Gilbert. Apparently, he was just coming on duty by the side gate.' 

'He had a key to that gate, did he?' 

Llewellyn nodded. 

'You're sure, man?' 

Llewellyn looked down his long nose at Rafferty's sharp tone. 'Quite sure, Sir. Gilbert's at the gate-lodge now should you wish to question him about it yourself.'  

Stifling a sigh, Rafferty remembered that his superior Welsh sergeant had been educated at public school and had then gone on to university to read English and Philosophy. His notebook certainly testified that he held degrees in the correct use of the English language, which perhaps explained why he looked so peeved that the secondary-modern educated Rafferty should question its accuracy. He'd even toyed with Psychology, by all accounts.  

Quite why Llewellyn had decided to join the police was a mystery to Rafferty. He hadn't even come in on the special entry scheme for graduates that offered accelerated promotion, which got his grudging respect. But, like so many university types whom he encountered on the force, Rafferty considered the Welshman had little "nose" for things, and he thought smugly of his own extremely sensitive nasal member. 'So,' he remarked finally. 'The chief suspect now has company. Pity.' Dr. Melville-Briggs was either a liar or a fool who didn't know what went on in his own hospital. Or did he expect his orders to be obeyed without question? Surely, he asked himself, a psychiatrist, of all people, knew that rules were made to be broken? If Gilbert, the gate-porter, had a key to the side gate it was possible that others had too. Was it likely a lowly gate-porter would be permitted a privilege allowed to no-one else but the boss?  

Rafferty made off briskly towards the gate lodge. Hampered by his still bruised dignity, Llewellyn followed more slowly. 

Gilbert, the gate-porter, was a sharp-featured little man, who gave the appearance of having a grudge against the world. He sat, nursing a pint mug of tea, looking very sorry for himself. The mug was inscribed with the legend "work is a four-letter word," and Rafferty got the impression that it stated a large part of Gilbert's limited philosophy of life. 

'Yes,' he admitted, with a show of reluctance when Rafferty began to question him, 'I found the body. Gruesome it was.' His eyes swivelled sideways at Rafferty and he whined self-pityingly, 'By rights somebody should take me 'ome. Ain't right to expect a man to carry on working after seeing such a sight.' He took a sip of his tea. 'Ain't right,' he repeated glumly, as though he felt he was being unfairly deprived of a legitimate day off.  

'I'm sure Dr. Melville-Briggs will let you go just as soon as you've answered a few questions.' Rafferty's lack of belief in Dr. Melville-Briggs's compassion for his fellow-man was evidently shared by Gilbert, whose face became even more glum. 

'Him?' He snorted. 'Not likely. There's more chance of me getting the sack than sympathy from him.'  

Despite the aura of gloom that surrounded the man, Rafferty got the distinct impression that Gilbert was enjoying himself in a rather perverse way. He was star for the day. Tonight he would probably hold court in the local pub and expect to be bought free drinks all night as he told and re-told his grisly tale. Rafferty thought Gilbert and Llewellyn should get on well together; they both seemed to get pleasure from looking on the black side. 

'Have you any idea who the victim might be, Mr. Gilbert?' Rafferty questioned.  

Gilbert shook his head.