‘No. The emergency call was made by the family’s Spanish cleaning lady, a Mrs Juana Ferrer, shortly after half-past eight. The scene was secured within ten minutes. Mrs Ferrers is downstairs at the moment.’
‘Did she see anything?’
‘Apparently not, she…’
Baird paused and looked up as the door opened. A middle-aged man with unbrushed hair and wire-framed spectacles stepped into the room. He was carrying a bulging briefcase and he was panting.
‘Philip, thanks for stopping by,’ said Baird. ‘Could somebody give him a chair?’
‘Haven’t got time. I’ve just come from the house and I’m on my way to Farrow Street. I want to walk the bodies straight through. I can give you about one minute. Anyway, I don’t think I’m much use to you here.’
‘This is Dr Philip Kale, the Home Office pathologist,’ Baird explained to the meeting. ‘What can you tell us?’
Dr Kale placed his bag on the floor and frowned.
‘As you know, one of my responsibilities as a forensic pathologist is not to construct premature theories. But…’ He began to count off his fingers, ‘… based on examination of the bodies at the scene, the two cases seem strikingly similar. Cause of death: anaemic anoxia, due to the incised wounds in the throats, which some of you have seen. Manner of death: their throats were cut with a blade, possibly non-serrated, of at least two centimetres in length. It could be anything from a Stanley knife to a carving knife. Mode of death: homicide.’
‘Can you tell us the time of death?’
‘Not with precision. You must understand that anything I say about this is very preliminary.’ He paused for a moment. ‘When I examined the bodies at the scene, hypostasis had commenced but was not fully developed. I would estimate that the deaths occurred more than two hours before they were found and not more than, say, five or six hours. Definitely not more than six.’
‘The daughter couldn’t have survived five hours with her throat cut, could she?’
Dr Kale paused for thought.
‘I haven’t seen her. Possibly not.’
‘Anything else you can tell us? Anything about the murder?’
Dr Kale gave the smallest hint of a smile.
‘The person who wielded the knife was using his or her right hand and has no disabling aversion to blood. And now I must go. The autopsies should be complete by mid afternoon. You’ll have a report.’
There was a hum of conversation in the moments after his departure, silenced by a rap of Baird’s knuckles on the desk.
‘Is there anything from the crime-scene people?’
There was a shaking of heads.
‘I talked to the cleaning woman.’
It was Detective Chris Angeloglou who had spoken.
‘Yes?’
‘She said that the day before yesterday Mrs Mackenzie gave a party in the house. There were two hundred people there. Bad news. Sorry.’
‘Christ.’
‘Yes.’
‘We’ll just have to let them get on with it. We’ll need a list of who was there.’
‘I’m already on to it.’
‘Good. We haven’t found any signs of forced entry as yet. But it’s early days. Anyway, you could open their front door with a credit card, a plastic ruler, anything. A cursory survey of the contents showed some rifling of drawers, cupboards. Lots of damage. Photographs torn and smashed.’
‘Looking for something?’
‘We’ll leave the theories until we’ve gathered the information and collated it. I don’t want officers looking for evidence to prove a theory. I want all the evidence. You can start thinking after that.’ He looked down at his notes. ‘What else is there? There was the writing on the wall, in Mrs Mackenzie’s lipstick. “Piggies.”’
‘Manson,’ said DC Angeloglou.
‘What’s that?’
‘Isn’t that what the Manson gang wrote on the wall in blood, when they killed all those people in California? “Death to Pigs.” It’s from a Beatles song.’
‘All right, Chris. Look into it. Don’t get carried away. It’s probably a blind alley. So that’s where we are now, which isn’t anywhere much. I’m going to wind up in a moment. If you pop round to Christine afterwards, you can get a copy of the roster. The investigation is going to involve searching every inch of the house, knocking on doors in the area, talking to Mackenzie & whatever the company’s called and interviewing people who were at the party. We’ve already got officers at the railway station and roadblocks on the Tyle road asking for witnesses. I hope we’ll catch the bastard inside twenty-four hours. If we don’t, I want a lot of information to fall back on. Any questions?’
‘Did they have any enemies?’
‘That’s why we’re having an inquiry.’
‘Were there a lot of valuables in the house?’
‘Go and find out. You’re a policeman.’
‘It may just be very simple, sir.’
Baird’s bushy eyebrows rose to a forty-five degree angle. Everybody turned to Pam MacAllister down at the far end.
‘Enlighten us WPC MacAllister.’
‘If she survives, the daughter may be able to tell us.’
‘Yes,’ said Baird drily. ‘Meanwhile, until she is fit to give a statement, we could pretend that we’re policemen. Or policewomen. I will if you will.’
Pam McAllister reddened but said nothing.
‘Right,’ said Baird, grabbing his papers and standing.
‘If you come across anything significant, see me. But don’t waste my time.’
Four
‘Wind up your window.’
‘But I’m too hot.’
‘It’s freezing; we’ll both get pneumonia. Wind it up.’
Elsie struggled sulkily with the handle. The window inched up and stopped.
‘Can’t.’
I leaned across her cross body. The car veered.
‘Can we have my tape on? The worm tape.’
‘Are you enjoying school?’
Silence.
‘What did you do yesterday?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Tell me three things you did yesterday.’
‘I played. And I played. And I played.’
‘Who did you play with?’ Brightly. Eagerly.
‘Mungo. Can I have my tape?’
‘The tape machine’s broken. You shoved coins down it.’
‘It’s not fair. You promised.’
