“According to Mr. Allen, everyone in Glastonbury knew Garnet Todd. Seems the woman was a genuine eccentric.”
Dr. Lamb reappeared, rear end first as he backed out of the van. He removed his gloves, brushed off his knees, and rolled down his shirtsleeves before accepting his jacket from Greely.
“All right, Doc, you’ve kept us in suspense long enough,” Greely said, and Kincaid suspected the pair had a well-developed routine.
“Well.” Lamb brushed a twig from his lapel. “I’d say she’s been dead at least twelve hours, maybe a good bit longer with last night’s drop in temperature. Lividity is well established, but there’s some slight staining in other areas that indicates she may have been moved after death. There’s no sign of sexual interference that I can see.”
Grudgingly, as if he knew it was expected of him, Greely asked, “Cause of death?”
“Well, now, that’s the most interesting thing. There are indications of asphyxiation, but no ligature marks or bruising on the throat or neck area. I have my suspicions, but I’m not going to say any more. You’ll have to wait for the autopsy.”
Greely groaned. “I can’t see that we’re much further along. Can we move the body, then?”
“Mmm.” The doctor nodded. “Ask the pathologist to give me a ring when he’s finished, would you? Satisfy my curiosity.” He turned to Kincaid. “Staying long, Superintendent? You might find this one interesting.”
“Just the weekend,” Kincaid answered. He shook the doctor’s hand and watched as he climbed back into his decrepit Morris and chugged down the hill.
Greely signaled to the mortuary attendants. They transferred the corpse onto a white sheet to preserve any trace evidence, then moved it from one van to the other. The doors clanged shut with metallic finality and the van pulled away. The crime-scene technicians were still busy at Garnet Todd’s vehicle, while two uniformed constables painstakingly searched the surrounding area.
Casually, Kincaid asked, “Any leads?”
“Absolutely sod all—except for the young lady your cousin, Mr. Montfort, seems to have taken in. We’ll have to interview her, you know, and the sooner, the better.”
“Did you find any evidence that Garnet Todd’s van was involved in Miss Catesby’s accident?”
“A few smudges on the front fender. Could have been caused by a close encounter with a hedge. There was not much vehicular damage to Miss Catesby’s bicycle, mostly scrapes and dings from the pavement. And there was no bleeding from Miss Catesby’s injuries—”
“So no hope of blood on the vehicle,” Kincaid said grimly. “What about fibers?”
“We’re checking now. But”—Greely shrugged—“it’s a snowball’s chance in hell, if you ask me, and we’ve nothing to link the two incidents other than the girl’s story.”
As he wondered if Gemma had managed to coax anything more from Faith, Kincaid realized how easily they, too, had fallen into their old routine.
As anxious as he was about Winnie, Jack felt he must take the time to let Simon Fitzstephen know about Garnet’s death—and not by telephone. Simon and Garnet had been friends too long for an impersonal notice.
At least he could feel sure that he’d left Faith in good hands. Duncan’s Gemma had a quiet authority that inspired confidence, and she had succeeded in calming Faith where he had failed.
So they were colleagues as well as lovers, he thought, wondering how long they’d been together, and if Duncan had finally managed to lay his troubled marriage to rest. Jack had been sorry to hear of Vic’s death the previous spring, but had done nothing more than send Duncan a brief note—such things still struck too close to home.
And now he found himself the apparent custodian of a pregnant young woman who might deliver her child at any moment. The prospect terrified him.
He found Simon on his knees in front of his perennial border, snipping the dead stalks from bloomed-out plants. “Dreary time of year, isn’t it?” Simon rose, wincing, and as he came across the lawn Jack saw that he was limping. “And digging in the dirt may be good for the soul, but it plays hell with my bad knee.”
“Old injury?” Jack asked.
“Climbing accident. Slipped in the scree years ago and tore a few ligaments. Just let me wash up and I’ll put the kettle on.”
“No, siorkginfarmhouse. Anlwonwmdone iffoumissielestood outsolistatiYeovilnwoutbikwouta.Warrishopn, Inctaoliwomabewn unmarcaLga
He could tell Greely some of the things he’d begun to suspect about Garnet, but it would only make his motive look stronger.
But there must have been others who had felt as he did about Garnet—there must have been someone who had wanted her dead. And if he could find out who, he might have a hope of saving himself.
Kincaid and Gemma pulled into Jack’s drive just as he was getting out of his Volvo. They found Faith waiting for them in the kitchen, hands on her hips, furious spots of color on her cheeks.
“Something smells good.” Jack wrinkled his nose in appreciation. “We haven’t had a proper meal in—”
Turning on Kincaid, Faith spat, “How could you? You told Nick he should talk to the police, that it would be all right! So he did, and now they think he’s a
“Faith, I told him it was the best course, and I still think that’s true. They’ve got Nick’s prints in the house and his bike tracks in the yard. He’d only make things worse for himself by lying.”
“But you’re a policeman. Can’t you tell Greely it’s not true, that Nick wouldn’t—”
“I don’t have any jurisdiction here. I can offer the Inspector my opinion, but I can’t tell him how to run his case.” Kincaid held up his hand before she could interrupt again. “I will tell you that I don’t think he’s got any solid
