take time. It’s not my place to become involved in the legal aspects, but I doubt that the coroner would want to hold on to the body after two post-mortems, given the tenuous evidence we have so far.’
Massey seemed of the same opinion. ‘Naturally, my wife and I are distressed enough as it is without having to again delay laying poor Linda to rest. Do you see any merit in postponing burial any longer?’
Richard shook his head at the telephone, even though the recipient was over a hundred miles away.
‘I think I have every sample that is necessary, Mr Massey. I doubt the coroner would grant a cremation order in the circumstances, but I see no reason why you could not go ahead with a burial, if he agrees.’
This was because the slight possibility of an exhumation existed, should any future defence lawyer insist on a further opinion.
Massey switched to another aspect of the case.
‘I’d like to know more about this alleged affair that Michael Prentice was having with some woman. I presume she was down in South Wales, so do you happen to know any reputable enquiry agent who could get some information?’
Richard was happy to be able to recommend Trevor Mitchell, telling him that the former detective superintendent was working with him on another case. He gave Mitchell’s phone number to Massey and they left it at that for the moment, Richard promising to send a written preliminary report that day and keep him informed the following week about the results of the microscopic examination.
He sought out Moira in the kitchen, where she was preparing a couple of trout for lunch, new potatoes and peas already waiting in saucepans on the Aga cooker.
She always slipped home for an hour at lunchtime, as it was only five minutes away and she wanted to feed her cat.
‘When you come back, can you type out a report on this Swansea case and get it in the post tonight?’ he asked. ‘I’ll write it out in longhand now and leave it in the office.’
‘I can take shorthand, if you ever need it,’ she offered.
Richard grinned and made a show of sniffing the air like a Bisto Kid. ‘I’d rather you finished making our lunch, thanks all the same!’
As she went back to flouring the glistening fish, she had another suggestion.
‘A lot of offices now are using these small tape recorders, Doctor. I’ve seen a portable one in a little carrying case that you can take around with you and record straight into it when you do your work.’
Moira used the term delicately, still not quite used to his macabre occupation.
‘A good idea, when we get some cash under our belt, we’ll think about it. There’s so much stuff we need, it’s frightening.’ As he went back to his room to start writing, he thought of the shopping list that Angela had for the laboratory, especially on the chemistry side. It would take a lot of mortuary work and paternity tests before they could even think of some of that equipment.
With a sigh, he sat down and pulled out his fountain pen.
An hour later, Moira was clattering away on her new Olivetti, copying Richard’s draft report. He had good handwriting for a doctor, and she had no difficulty in transcribing it, even the unfamiliar medical terms.
After only a few days, she was enjoying her new job very much – it was a strange one, a little housework, some cooking and now this, describing the dissected remains of a young woman. After several years of mourning and apathy for her lost husband, she felt as if life could restart properly once again and she was grateful to the inhabitants of Garth House for giving her this unexpected opportunity. She realized that Doctor Bray was slightly wary of her, though she was friendly and communicative enough. Moira also knew that this might be due to an almost subliminal feeling of competition over Richard Pryor – she had not yet worked out what the relationship was between the two partners, or what it might develop into in the future.
As she was typing away and musing on the new turn her life had taken, Richard was answering the telephone in the hall. He had earlier brought a spare stool from the kitchen to put alongside the small table that carried the heavy black instrument, as he anticipated spending a lot of time there until the GPO got around to putting in some extensions in the other rooms.
It was the Gower coroner on the line, a local solicitor called Donald Moses. He had just been contacted by Leonard Massey about Richard’s preliminary findings.
‘This leaves me in a difficult position, Doctor,’ he said, sounding rather agitated. ‘If I feel there is any substance in these suspicions raised by Mr Massey, then I’m bound to pass the matter to the police.’
Pryor repeated what he had told Massey, that he could not be more specific until he had examined the sections of the bruises under the microscope, which could not be until sometime the following week.
‘There was a detective present at the post-mortem,’ he added. ‘But he just verified the continuity of the samples I took and I didn’t discuss any findings with him, they are too uncertain at present.’
Donald Moses sighed. ‘Mr Massey is very persistent, I’m afraid. But I don’t want to start a wild goose chase and then find it comes to nothing. To even approach the husband of the dead woman at this stage would be most unfortunate if nothing came of the matter.’
Richard saw a flaw in this argument.
‘But he must already know that something is going on, as the original funeral date was postponed for my examination?’
The coroner accepted this ‘He never contacted me to ask why, which is a little odd. I suspect that his father- in-law had it out with him. He’s a forceful personality, to say the least!’
Pryor wanted to avoid getting too involved in aspects that were none of his business.
‘I’ll be sending you a copy of my preliminary report today, it’s being typed as we speak. And as soon as I see the tissue sections, I’ll get back to you.’
The coroner seemed relieved by this breathing space.
‘I’ll hang fire until then, Doctor. But if you find nothing definite, I’m going to allow a burial to go ahead whenever the family want it. Mr Massey told me that you said you had all the material that was necessary.’
After he put the phone down, Richard sat on his hard stool for a few moments to think about the situation. It seemed that a lot might hang on his examination of the bruises next week, as the coroner was right in saying that it would be both embarrassing and unjust to start a possible murder investigation, based only on the angry dislike of a father-in-law, fuelled by a letter alleging a domestic dispute.
Well, he thought, there was nothing more he could do until Sian came up with the microscopic sections in a few days’ time, so he might as well enjoy the weekend.
He had seen in the newspaper that the new film
SEVEN
As a Shakespearean performance was being played out in a Cardiff cinema, another drama was taking place in a Swansea hotel.
The Osborne was a small, but exclusive, hotel perched on the edge of a low cliff at Rotherslade. About six miles from the town centre, it was at the eastern end of the Gower peninsula, overlooking the popular Langland Bay.
In one of the best bedrooms, with a perfect sea view, a furious row was going on.
‘You’ve got a bloody nerve, interfering in my affairs like this!’ ranted Michael Prentice, his face suffused an angry red. He was a tall man, though not so heavily built as his father-in-law, who stood facing him in a colder type of fury.
‘Your affairs! That’s what’s led to this, according to Linda’s best friend,’ he responded scathingly.
‘Watch what you say, Leonard, or I’ll have you for slander, barrister or not!’ snarled the younger man, his handsome face contorted with hate. ‘You accuse me of assaulting my wife and I’ll break you!’
The two large men stood just inside the door, squaring up to each other like a pair of boxers before the fight.
‘Do you deny pushing and punching Linda when she discovered you were having it off with some tart?’ said
