acquired a Rottweiler puppy, christened Rodney, who had subsequently displayed a healthier taste for Walkers Crisps than for any unwelcome visitors,
and who had sadly been run over a few months previously.
With the smashed rear window, the burglary theory was at first the favourite,
although there was no apparent theft of several readily displayed items of
silverware and non-too-subtly concealed pieces of jewellery. What was far
more obvious to those who 55
entered the house later that night was a body
the body of Yvonne Harrison, lying on the bed in the main bedroom: naked,
hand- cuffed, and gagged. And dead.
What immediately caught public interest was the fact that the man who
discovered the body was none other than the murdered woman's husband.
A somewhat delayed post-mortem established that Yvonne Harrison had probably
been murdered by some sort of 'tubular metal rod' two or three hours before
her body was discovered at 11. 20 p. m. ' and fairly certainly not after
9.30 p.m. Independent evidence corroborated the pathologist's findings. A
local builder, Mr John Barren, had rung Mrs Harrison at 9 p.m. - on the dot,
as instructed. But he had heard only the 'engaged' signal. At about 9.30
p.m. he had rung again; but although he had persisted there had been no
reply. The phone was quite certainly ringing at the other end. Either the
Ansaphone had not been activated ... or else the lady of the house was not
alive to take the call.
Another call however had been made more successfully that evening. An
extraordinarily puzzling call. At just after 9 p. m. Yvonne's husband
picked up his phone in Pavilion Road, London, to hear a man's voice informing
him that his wife was in trouble and that he ought to get out there
immediately. Normally he would have driven home post-haste in his BMW. But
with the car in for repairs, he took a taxi to Paddington where he caught the
9. 48 train to Oxford, arriving at 10. 50, where he took another taxi for
the ten-mile journey out to Lower Swinstead.
Late-night traffic was thin, and when Mr Patrick Flynn braked his Radio Taxi
outside
'The Windhovers' at 11.20 p.m. he saw a village mansion ablaze with lights
turned on in almost every room, and the burglar-alarm box emitting sharp blue
flashes and a con ting- uous ringing. The front door stood open ... and the
rest is history.
Or it was history until a fortnight ago, when two anonymous phone calls were
received at Thames Valley Police HQ, where it is the view of Chief
Superintendent Strange that promising new lines of enquiry may soon be opened.
It is surely universally to be hoped that the identity of Yvonne Harrison's
murderer will finally be revealed; and that on some more permanent memorial
in St Mary's churchyard the name of the murdered woman will be spelt
correctly.
chapter thirteen Pmcltranda sunt testimmia, nm nwrncrania (All testimonies
aggregate Not by their number, but their weight) (Latin proverb) most of the
Thames Valley Police personnel were ever wont to pounce quickly upon any
newspaper clipping concerning their competence, or alleged lack of
competence. And that morning Lewis had been almost immediately apprised of
the article in The Times which he'd read and assimilated swiftly; far more
swiftly (he suspected) than Morse would read it when he took it along at 8.
30 a. m. The Chief was a notoriously slow reader, except of crossword clues.
Lewis remembered the case well enough; certainly remembered the frustration
and disappointment that many of his CID colleagues had felt when lead after
lead had appeared to peter out. Yes, he'd often experienced frustration
himself, but seldom any prolonged disappointment; for which he was grateful -
