since they had started, she had worked up quite a reputation among solicitors far and wide for helping them in cases where mothers were claiming that a certain man was the father of their child and should be paying maintenance. She checked the complex pattern of blood groups of the mother, child and putative father to see if he could be excluded, though the tests could never positively prove his paternity.
As they worked, they chatted sporadically. Angela had told Sian about their experiences the previous day in the depths of Breconshire, as the girl was always avid for details of their forensic cases.
‘From what you say, whoever killed that man must be someone on the farm,’ she declared with her usual forthrightness. Sian always saw everything in black and white, rather than acknowledging shades of grey.
‘It seems most likely, as there’s hardly anyone else within walking distance,’ agreed Angela. ‘But we mustn’t jump to conclusions in this game. Proof has to be according to the evidence.’
There was a silence as Sian put one eye to the Hartridge reversion spectroscope sitting on her bench. She adjusted a knob to line up the spectra of a solution of blood from the victim of the factory accident, which would give her a percentage saturation with the deadly gas carbon monoxide. She noted down the reading, then picked up the conversation where they had left it.
‘But who else could have done it? You say the place is way out in the sticks?’
‘No doubt that’s what the police are doing today, knocking themselves out to see if there’s any possibility of someone else being involved. Maybe there’s somebody in this chap Littleman’s past that’s relevant. He was a heavy drinker. Maybe he gambled as well and owed a lot of money.’
Sian thought that strangling the fellow wasn’t a very good way of collecting the arrears, but she contented herself with remarking that she would be doing the alcohol estimations on his samples that afternoon.
Moira came in from the office at that point with the typed copies of the short statement that Angela had dictated earlier about her involvement. ‘What about these fibres you collected?’ she asked. ‘You haven’t examined them yourself?’
‘No, it’s an odd situation. I could have dealt with them – it’s just up my street – but I can’t get involved any further than just handing them over to the police as exhibits. I’ve got no official standing in the case, unlike Richard. It’s the forensic lab in Cardiff who will have to do the business.’
‘Couldn’t the cops have employed you to do it, instead of them?’ persisted Sian.
Angela shook her head. ‘Then they’d have to pay us, but they get the forensic lab for free, as it’s part of the Home Office system. Anyway, Cardiff will probably have to examine other stuff from there, like the clothes that people were wearing, so it would be pointless having two lots of scientists involved, especially if eventually we had to go to court about it.’
Moira went back to her office and Angela swung back on her rotating stool to get on with adding sera to her racks of tubes, while Sian began a duplicate run on the carbon monoxide test. All was quiet for a while, until the sound of a car was heard, hauling itself up the steep drive outside.
‘He’s back. I wonder if he’s brought me more work?’ observed Sian. She was not complaining, as every aspect of the job intrigued her, even after six month’s familiarity. Richard Pryor had been doing his routine post-mortems for the coroner at the shabby public mortuaries in Chepstow and Monmouth, which, like Angela’s blood tests, were his main contribution to the finances of the partnership. He had been fortunate in that an old classmate of his, when they were medical students in Cardiff before the war, was now a general practitioner in Monmouth and also the part-time coroner for the area. He had given the post-mortem work to Richard, and this, together with a similar function in several hospitals as a stand-in when the regular men were away, brought in a steady income to the Garth House business.
When he came in through the back door and dumped his bag in his room, Moira declared a tea break and went off to the kitchen to put the kettle on the Aga. As she passed him in the passage, she reminded him about returning yesterday’s phone call from the lawyer in Stow-on-the-Wold. When they assembled in the staffroom ten minutes later, Richard told them about the brief telephone conversation.
‘It was a chap called Lovesey, a solicitor in Stow. He was a bit guarded about the details, but he wants an expert medical opinion on behalf of the defence of a veterinary surgeon who’s been charged with murdering his wife.’
Sian and Moira leaned forward eagerly, wanting to hear more, though Angela’s interest was mainly concerned with the possible fee that this might bring to the partnership.
‘How did he do it?’ asked Sian, with morbid curiosity. ‘Did he shoot her or strangle her?’
‘The juicy details don’t normally get discussed over the phone. He wants an urgent conference, as the case goes to trial at Gloucester Assizes in a few weeks.’
‘Bit late to think of a defence, isn’t it?’ asked Angela critically.
‘Apparently, they’ve had one already, but it didn’t help them. Now they’ve got a new defence counsel, some hotshot QC from London, and he’s demanding another opinion.’
Moira’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. ‘I don’t understand this defence business. If they get a first post- mortem in a murder, then that doctor’s opinion is accepted, surely?’
Richard Pryor put his mug of tea on the table, ready to lecture.
‘Don’t you believe it! There are almost as many different opinions as there are pathologists. Some of them have very strange ideas and some are just plain inexperienced in forensic work, being basically clinical pathologists in hospitals.’
‘Few forensic pathologists are free from strange ideas,’ commented Angela drily. ‘Present company excepted, of course!’ she added mischievously.
He made a face at her and carried on with his explanation.
‘In most murders, either the defence gets an opinion from another independent pathologist who has read the first chap’s report or who has done another examination of the body himself, as I did a few months ago in that Swansea case.’
‘They had three PMs on that poor woman,’ observed Sian, critically.
Now Moira entered the discussion. ‘In this Stow case, you said the defence already had a second opinion and they didn’t like it. Presumably, they’re hoping you will come up with a different view?’
‘That’s obviously the idea – but I may also agree completely with the first pathologist,’ replied Pryor. ‘It often happens that way, but at least it means that the accused has had a fair crack of the whip. Doesn’t always happen abroad; they have a different system on the Continent.’
‘So what have you arranged?’ asked the ever-practical Angela.
‘I’m going to see the solicitor tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps you’d like to come, Angela? There may be some forensic science angle to it.’
The handsome brunette nodded. ‘I’ve never been to Stow-on-the-Wold. Here’s a chance for me, even if it is a homicidal visit, so to speak!’
FIVE
When Arthur Crippen and Sergeant Nichols drove down to the vehicle barn, they found two men talking to the constable left there on guard duty. They had met both of them before, as one was the liaison officer and the other a forensic scientist from the Cardiff laboratory.
The first was Larry McCoughlin, a detective inspector seconded from the Carmarthenshire Constabulary who acted as a go-between when any police force needed technical help.
The scientific officer was a short, rotund man named Philip Rees. ‘I hear Dr Bray was up here yesterday,’ he said. ‘She’s a well-known name in our business. We were all surprised when she resigned from the Met Lab.’
Crippen explained that she had come up with the pathologist. ‘She was a bit embarrassed at being involved, but we were afraid of losing evidence if we delayed,’ he said.
‘No harm done. Your motorcyclist brought the samples down last night,’ said McCoughlin. He looked across at the barn, where the big door was now closed. ‘We’d better have a look around, I suppose.’
As they went to the small side door, Arthur Crippen explained the circumstances and what the pathologist had found on the body. ‘Dr Bray suggested that the fibres she found on the neck may have come from a hemp or sisal rope. We sent the lengths that were knocking around the barn down to you last evening.’
As the new arrivals surveyed the inside of the building, Dr Rees asked the detectives if they had all they wanted from the place.
