‘So that left just the Home Office?’
‘Yes, and even they were somewhat uncertain about their jurisdiction as this was an army incident that occurred abroad. However, to be on the safe side they rubber-stamped the appropriate forms, so we can proceed.’
Richard thought rapidly, as the Gloucester trial was now less that a fortnight away. He had the Brecon inquest this week, so that ruled out the next few days.
‘I think it will have to be one day next week, Mr Lane. As far as I recall, the body is buried in south-east London?’
‘Yes, in Lewisham municipal cemetery.’
‘Where could we take it for a post-mortem, somewhere that has decent facilities?’ asked Richard.
‘I’ve discussed this with Paul Bannerman, who’s leading this case. He suggests the Queen Alexandra Military Hospital in Millbank. Perhaps you know it, having been an RAMC officer?’
‘I know where it is, certainly. Very near the Royal Army Medical College, with the Tate Gallery between them.’
‘Paul Bannerman is still a serving officer, so I’m sure he can arrange matters with the hospital commandant. Which day would suit you best?’
Richard decided that Wednesday would be as good as any other, and the solicitor promised to ring back to confirm a time.
‘We’ll have to make arrangements with the cemetery for the exhumation and also for transport from Lewisham to Millbank.’
After he had rung off, Richard went to report to his partner. ‘Trip to London next week, Angela. Know anything about bullets?’ He repeated what Lane had told him.
‘I’m a biologist, not a firearms examiner,’ she said. ‘But I’ve picked up a bit of the jargon and mystique from listening to them in the Met Lab over the years.’
‘Good enough. You can look at the thing with me next week. I’ve got a feeling about what could have happened, but first I need to look at that wound.’
At lunchtime he told Moira and Sian about the developments, but neither of them wanted to join Angela on a trip to London.
‘Must be horrid, an exhumation,’ said Moira with an expression of disgust. ‘How long has the poor chap been buried?’
‘Only a few months – and he was embalmed first, so he’ll be almost as good as new.’
‘I’m happy to be coming to that inquest with you, doctor,’ said Sian. ‘And I saw a couple of post-mortems when I worked in the hospital lab. But I draw the line at exhumations!’
That evening Richard talked to Angela about the arrangements for the following week. ‘We’re not going to get our dirty weekend, I’m afraid. But as the exhumation is bound to be in the morning, we’ll have to travel up on Tuesday.’
Angela made a mock pout. ‘Oh, and I was looking forward to a sinful Saturday night!’
His lean face broke into one of his famous grins. ‘We may as well make a day of it, so we’ll go up early on the Red Dragon and you can have the afternoon to hit the shops while I go to the BMA library to see if they’ve got anything I missed elsewhere.’
‘Oh, you’re so masterful, Richard! The romantic BMA library!’ In a playful mood, she pretended to swoon.
‘Stop taking the mickey, lady!’ he commanded. ‘We’ve got to decide on somewhere to stay. I suppose the Great Western Hotel at Paddington is the easiest, especially as we’re not footing the bill.’
Serious again, she nodded. ‘Sounds fine to me. Better get Moira to book a couple of rooms there. Knowing her, she’ll make sure that they’re on different floors at opposite ends of the building!’
On Friday they set off in the Humber at eight thirty, as the inquest was to start at half past ten. Sian arrived early and they left Garth House in almost a picnic mood, in spite of the sombre nature of the event. The technician sat in the back, enjoying the ride in a large, comfortable car, for there was no such luxury in her household. Though Sian was a very mature, self-possessed woman of twenty-four, for a few moments Richard had a fantasy that she was their daughter, with Mum and Dad sitting sedately in the front!
It was a nice day, getting cooler as the autumn took hold, but dry and sunny between breaks in the cloud. As they drove up to Monmouth, then along the A40 through Abergavenny and Crickhowell to Brecon, they all revelled in the lovely countryside of Monmouthshire, then the grandeur of the Usk Valley through the Beacons. Apart from her one visit to the crime scene, this area was new to Angela. She had been brought up in the flatter Home Counties and today she had the leisure to better appreciate the Welsh scenery. As for Sian, she was entranced, as being a child during the war, with all the shortages and restrictions – and no car in the family – her excursions had been mainly to Barry Island and Porthcawl, with a few holidays in Gower or Ilfracombe.
Brecon came all too quickly and soon they were driving up The Watton into the town, past the grim nineteenth-century barracks that was the depot of the South Wales Borderers.
‘That’s where that young lad who found the body is being called up to National Service this week,’ said Richard. ‘Let’s hope he enjoys it, though he’ll find it a lot different from mending tractors on a farm.’
‘Won’t he have to be at the inquest?’ asked Sian.
‘Yes, I’m sure he will. But he won’t have far to go, for we’re there already.’
On their left, at an angle to the main road, was another massive early Victorian building, the Shire Hall, with its classical portico of four fluted columns supporting a triangular pediment.
The coroner’s officer was in the forecourt, and he waved them in to a parking place behind the iron railings.
‘I kept you a place, doctor. There’ll be a fair crowd here today. It’s not often we get a murder.’
Billy Brown led them up the steps into the impressive building and into the main courtroom, a forbidding place panelled in dark wood, explaining as he went.
‘The coroner usually holds inquests in the magistrates’ court or even in his own office, if there are only a few witnesses. But today he’s borrowed the courtroom. Normally, it’s kept for sittings of the Assizes and Quarter Sessions.’
A high panelled bench dominated the front of the court, below which was a desk for the clerk and a large central table with benches for the lawyers. The witness box was to one side near a couple of rows of pews for the jury. On the opposite side there was more seating and a place for the press. The rest of the large, high chamber was filled with benches for witnesses and the public – Sian was reminded of the interior of her Methodist chapel in Chepstow.
Billy Brown shepherded them into a pew just behind the lawyers’ table, where a florid middle-aged man in a dark suit and a wing collar sat with a thin file of papers. Three journalists were squeezed into a narrow space on the opposite side of the court from the jury benches. One was a bald man with a large red nose, another an anaemic-looking girl and the last a bored-looking young man with severe acne.
In the row behind the forensic team, the four members of the Evans and Morton families were sitting silently, dressed in their Sunday clothes, the men displaying black ties and Betsan and Rhian in suitably black or grey outfits.
The chamber was partly filled with some farming neighbours from Cwmcamlais, together with members of the public attracted by the morbid thrill of a murder-suicide in this usually peaceful area. There were several uniformed constables at the back of the court, and five minutes after the Garth House party arrived Detective Inspector Arthur Crippen and his sergeant slipped into the other end of their pew, nodding a greeting at the Garth House group. Just before the large old clock on one wall reached ten thirty, the coroner’s officer shepherded in half a score of people to act as jurors. They filed self-consciously into the two rows of hard benches, eight men in their best suits and a couple of women in shapeless hats. Billy Brown vanished, then reappeared from a side door and came up to whisper to Richard Pryor.
‘The coroner would like a word before we start, doctor.’ He led Richard up to the front bench and lifted a flap in the corner. A few steps led up to the judicial platform, then through a door at the side into the judge’s chamber.
The coroner was Charles Matthews – as usual, a local solicitor. A tall, thin man, he could only be described as ‘grey’, as he was grey-haired, had a grey walrus moustache and wore a grey suit. Even his complexion seemed
