‘Self-immolation?’ Gill wondered aloud. ‘They usually want an audience, don’t they? Act in public.’ And as for suicide, burning was an appalling way to die, our fear of fire as intense as the pain it delivered. She could not recall one sudden unexplained death she had been asked to investigate where the victim had set themselves on fire as a way to end it all.
‘The body was set alight?’ she said.
‘It’s a possibility.’ Hyatt was cautious. They were all cautious until they had the evidence, theories were no more than that. The job was about facts, science and hard data. The body on the floor might be a fatality due to some awful accident but for now the very presence of accelerant meant it was suspicious. And that meant Gill needed to inform the coroner and ask permission to carry out a forensic post-mortem.
She coughed, hot inside her protective suit. The face mask did nothing to hide the smell.
‘When were you called?’ she asked the fire investigation officer.
‘999 came in at eight o’clock last night,’ he said, ‘no reports of occupants. Place had been empty for several years. Last officially used as storage for a carpet wholesaler in 2009.’
‘We will document as much as we can here,’ Theresa Barton said, ‘but there’s little chance of recovering trace materials after an inferno like that.’
In the normal course of things they would hope to find evidence of any recent contact between the victim and other people. Fingerprints, DNA from hair or saliva, blood or sperm that might lead them to witnesses or, if foul play was suspected, to potential suspects. The fire compromised all that.
‘The remains are at risk of further disintegration when we move them,’ Barton said.
‘Just do your best,’ said Gill.
‘Seeing as it’s you,’ Barton said.
‘Let’s just suppose it was an accident,’ Gill said, ‘our victim decided they were going to make a fire, to keep warm.’
‘Not especially cold last night,’ said Barton.
‘Not outside,’ Gill agreed, ‘but in here it might be like a tomb. No heating for several years. Damp.’
‘OK, go on,’ the crime scene manager nodded.
‘So they build a fire, they’ve got some petrol, slosh it on and don’t realize they’ve splashed some on their sleeves or shoes. They light the fire and puff!’ She splayed her fingers wide. ‘Up in smoke.’
Hyatt was pulling a face, not convinced.
‘But it is possible?’ said Gill.
‘Possible,’ he said slowly.
‘We found a container?’ Gill asked.
‘Not yet, still a lot of debris to sort through. It may have been destroyed with the heat,’ he said. ‘Third case of arson in the area in the past six months.’