It's not suicide.

“Fell out of a hot air balloon” He informed me as he led me to the lifeless body of the young victim ”…She was in her twenties, a single mother who barely had enough to live on; I wouldn’t be surprised if it had been a suicide” He added.
“It wasn’t” I assured him.
Not if she was a mother.
Then I laid eyes on the corps - though I was quick to look away. She wasn’t bleeding much but she was definitely, to say the least, broken. Her arms and legs were twisted in every which way, as if every bone in her body had been broken.
“Are you saying it was an accident?” Alan asked curiously “I don’t think people just fall out of hot air balloons.”
“Not an accident either” I answered in a low voice
“Do you think that she was purposely killed? Why would anyone do it? Why would you even think that?” He questioned
“This isn’t the first odd death recently.” I told him, ignoring half of his questions. I didn’t have time for those, too caught up trying to organise the last few months. “Remember the guy who carelessly put a fork in the oven? And, and the woman who ‘dropped’ her hairdryer in the bath while it was plugged in?” I heard my voice grow faster but I didn’t stop it: I was angry at this nagging thought that they were all linked; I knew it all fit, just, how?
“Mack, calm down.” Alan said- although it was more like an order “You’re looking for something that isn’t there!”
“So you’re going to tell me it’s all a bunch of coincidences?!” I tried to sound calm but it sounded like I was accusing Alan of the murders
“Well…” He hesitated
“I’m a homicide detective, Alan. I know a murder when I see one!” I take a breath “…or four.”
“I agree with Mackenzie,” Declared Gemma, she had a talent for sneaking up on people, and eavesdropping, and scaring the life out of me sometimes…
“You what?” Choked Alan
“She was murdered, there is no way she just fell and-“
“..And her life,” Interrupted Alan “wasn’t the best: Low on cash, tackling four jobs, full time most days and a young daughter to feed. I vote suicide.”
“Smith” Came a booming voice from a couple of metres away, Chief Robinson was marching closer “I doubt you would consider it professional to discuss the death of a young woman as such a… game. There is no voting when it comes to these matters and you know that well!”
“I do sir but-“Alan mouthed
“No ‘but’s!” Shouted the chief “And, if you must know, this case will be labelled a suicide”
“But-“I tried to argue
“What part of ‘No but’s!” don’t you understand detective Collins? I’m sorry we wasted your time again by bringing you here but you really mustn’t worry about this any longer.”
With that, Robinson turned around
“What if we can figure out who the murderer is?” Shouted Gemma before the chief had a chance to walk away. He turned to face us with a sigh of something a lot like despair. He knew well that Gemma was too determined to ignore and that he couldn’t drop the matter of ‘death’ that easily.
“Fine,” he said strictly
“Yesss!” I exclaimed aloud
“On one condition,” He added “This is your work, no lab scans or waste of doctor’s times unless you give me something solid.”
“Okay” I agreed with a nod.
“And!” He declared
That makes at least too conditions
“You only have until Friday, at 1900 hours to present your case. That’s 3 hours over a week.”
Robinson liked precision.
“And then what?” Gemma asked
“Then you will be denied access to case files and any investigating on the subject will become personal,” He paused “If not, illegal”
“Unless we get you an answer,” Alan finishes.
It was just like him to be so positive. Robinson gave a firm but unconvinced nod and walked away.