A week in Kingston: Richard Gillislooks back on a traumatic week that saw the Pakistan coach's sudden death rock the cricket world cup.

Sunday

The announcement of Bob Woolmer's death is followed by an afternoon of frantic running about tape recorder in hand. Much talk of the stress of the job, and a few people raise the topic of suicide.

PJ Mir's briefing talks of blood on the floor of the bathroom, with vomit and diarrhoea found at the scene. This kickstarts the rumour mill.

Later the Ireland players come back from Ochos Rios, where they spent Saturday night and Sunday morning. They are beaten to the front door of the hotel by the Prime Minister of Jamaica, here to offer her condolences to the Pakistan team. She is greeted by an explosion of flashbulbs and much shouting, "Over here your Highness," says one snapper.

The PM is tall with a severe bob. Her election campaign went big on her desire to be "the mother of Jamaica". As she enters the hotel, she turns to walk to the other end of the corridor, away from the room containing the Pakistan team. Like a plane taxiing for take off she turns and starts the now much longer walk toward the cameras. "she's giving us a long shot", says the TV man behind me.

She walks with her eyes straight ahead, with two soldiers ahead of her. She is followed by three army officers, who stay outside the door as she goes in.

Then something odd happens. The PM comes out of the room in tears. Cameras flash. She wipes her eyes slowly with a handkerchief and then goes back in to the room.

The army officers smile.

Monday

A day of rumour and counter-rumour. Suicide is the limit of our imagination. Talk of murder first arises and is dismissed as absurdly far-fetched.

Tributes for Woolmer are out there. They all concur: He was a very nice man and a genuinely innovative thinker about the game. One from his ghost writer Ivo Tennant catches my eye. "Bob's weakness was he was too generous with his time". I think of the couple of hours I spent with him the previous week, the first time I'd met him.

A dull game is played out between West Indies and Zimbabwe. Conch shells and steel bands have been banned from the ground by the ICC. They are replaced by homogenised reggae, blaring from the speakers. It's a Caribbean carnival put together by marketing consultants.

Back at the hotel, the media circus is summed up neatly. A local TV reporter is doing a piece to camera in the corner of the lobby. Twenty journalists watch on the television monitor behind him. The camera pans around to show them watching themselves on the TV.

Later in the bar, PJ Mir says Woolmer was murdered.

Tuesday

Mid-afternoon, a press conference is held at the hotel, the results of the inquest in to Woolmer's death are 'inconclusive'.

The terms 'toxicology' and 'histology' are bandied about. Cricket journalists look at each other eyebrows raised. "Anyone got a dictionary" says one on the way out.

The early evening was a cricket anorak's dream. Tony Becca, the long-time cricket writer for the Jamaican Gleaner, the island's daily paper invites me to his local cricket club, Melbourne, for a drink with a colleague. Melbourne's clubhouse is on the other side of town and forms one of its triumvirate of clubs. Kensington and Kingston being the others.

The clubhouse is an old wood and steel outhouse, with a small bar in one corner. A few locals are playing dominoes on upturned beer crates. On the wall are pictures of some of the greatest players in West Indies cricket history, all members of the club.

Tony explains that over the wall next to the sight screen is a small run-down housing estate. The kids just jump over the wall and come to play.

It's amazing to think that some of the greatest players of the last 30 years, people like Michael Holding and Courtney Walsh started on this little bit of open land. In all the club has produced 15 West Indian test players. I go to pay for a drink. "No man," says Tony, "there's no need." The till remains closed.

Then suddenly, a message from the hotel: another press conference has been called for 9.30 tonight. Bugger. Tony drops us back at the Pegasus and a long night begins.

Woolmer's death is now suspicious, says Mark Shields, the Jamaican deputy commissioner of police.

Wednesday

Woken from a deep sleep at 6am by a phone call. A man from a newspaper in Britain asking questions of forensic science, not my strong point at the best of times.

Downstairs the army and police presence has been stepped up markedly in the aftermath of last night's announcement. Guests are escorted into the lifts and the 12th floor, where Woolmer's room was, is out of bounds.

Outside sirens can be heard from the Knutsford Boulevard, the main road that links the business centre of New Kingston the poorer districts of downtown.

Police in red caps sit at the door to the hotel and a jeep with armed soldiers stands guard outside.

Today, Pakistan play Zimbabwe at Sabina. A win for Zim could ruin Ireland's chances of progressing from the group.

The umpires and officials Billy Bowden, Ian Gould and Simon Taufel walk quickly past in matching red shirts, followed closely by the tall figure of Chris Broad the match referee.

The local Jamaican TV channel has gone with strangulation as cause of death. They say this has come from a senior police source. A row takes place in the lobby, as the man from Sky Sports loudly criticises the JTV journalist for 'taking a flyer' on the story.

Some of the Ireland players and team officials sit in the wicker chairs in front of the giant TV screen that dominates the entrance hall. They are due to train at the Kensington Cricket Club ground on the other side of Kingston later this afternoon.

Ireland's South African coach, Adrian Birrell, studied under Woolmer when the former Pakistan coach led the ICC's High Performance Programme, designed to strengthen cricket in the Associate countries. He looks dumbstruck.

At Sabina, Pakistan are brilliant, thrashing Zimbabwe who are on the wrong end of a catharsis. Inzamam's last game brings an outpouring of emotion. He's walks off the pitch in tears.

In the evening, Pakistan hold a meeting in memory of their dead coach. The media gather expecting a press conference. "No questions please," says Mir. The players and officials all offer a personal thank you. They seem young suddenly, shy and nervous in front of the audience.

Adrian Birrell and Roy Torrens from the Irish camp pay their respects. They speak well.

Thursday

A morning of hanging around, watching news reporters from the world's papers arriving at the Pegasus. The Irish team has a press conference in an upstairs suite. Kenny Carroll, who has yet to play in the tournament, is the star turn. He talks eloquently about the role of the support players. It's his birthday.

Downstairs at a table by the pool, the police have started questioning some of the Pakistan players. Mushtaq Ahmed talks to a burly Jamaican, who is sweating in a shirt that is two sizes too small. The pen in his hand looks like a cocktail stick.

The team is due to leave for home today at 1.40pm, but this is put back as they give finger prints and answer more questions. They finally leave from the back door, avoiding the scrum.

No one knows anything. An Indian man comes up to me conspiratorially and tells me that two of the Irish team had failed drugs tests. What did I think? Turns out they haven't even taken one.

Then, news of a 6.30 press conference. We go to sit in the ballroom as TV and radio news crews set up.

"Mr Woolmer's death was due to asphyxia as a result of manual strangulation," says Lucius Thomas, the Commissioner of Police for Jamaica. Thickset, he looks like he's walked here from an episode of Columbo. Even though we've been talking about it all week, hearing it said officially is still stunning. I feel sick.

People shake their heads in disbelief.

The questions come thick and fast. Was security up to it? Are there any suspects? When did he die? Did he put up a struggle?

The news that there might be more than one attacker makes it worse somehow.

We file out and talk about what we've just heard. At the beginning of the trip the hotel lobby was a great place to hang out and talk about cricket. Seems a long time ago now.

Friday

The team get on the coach which takes them from the Pegasus to the ground for their final match against West Indies.

John Wright runs up and passes a piece of paper through the window. It's a letter to the team from Bertie Ahern.

On the way to the ground on the media bus a local talk radio station is in full swing. "Let the minnows play," says the host.

Out in the middle, stand in skipper Kyle McCallan is quizzed by Ramiz Raja, the former Pakistan test player.

"Who has come in for Brian Johnston?" inquires Raja, managing to confuse the Ireland skipper with the former BBC Test Match Specialpresenter.