“A most unfortunate accident,” Bradshaw noted indifferently.
“And a most convenient one,” said Joanna. “May we see his prison file?”
Bradshaw handed across a thin folder which when opened revealed only a few loose sheets. “As you can see, his reports are quite meager, for he was only with us several months before his untimely death.”
Joanna quickly scanned the file that contained Edmunds’s medical record, death certificate, and accounts of his behavior while incarcerated. “It appears he was a model prisoner.”
“He was indeed,” Bradshaw confirmed. “He never caused a spot of trouble and worked diligently in the furniture restoration shop where he seemed to enjoy his time.”
“What becomes of the furniture once it is restored?” Joanna asked.
“It is sold, with the proceeds used to buy the tools and equipment required for the restorations. Each prisoner receives a shilling for his work once the sale is done, which gives them added incentive. They spend the money quickly for tobacco and such, and of course for gambling that we do our best to discourage.”
“Was Edmunds involved in any fights or brawls?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Any attempts to escape?”
“There is no escape from here, for it is the most secure prison in all London,” Bradshaw answered. “Moreover, most of our prisoners are nonviolent offenders with relatively short sentences, and any attempt to escape would add significantly to the time they needed to serve. This of course dissuades them from any such activities.”
Joanna glanced at the inmate’s medical record briefly before handing it to me. “John, here is the physical examination done by the prison doctor on Harry Edmunds when he first arrived. Read it aloud while you search for a signature marking.”
“What is a signature marking?” asked Bradshaw, showing sudden interest.
“It is a finding which belongs to Harry Edmunds and no one else.”
I read through the entire document before speaking, for I wished to make certain it was authentic and done by a physician who was competent to perform such an examination. The terms he used indicated he was an experienced doctor who did not mince his words.
“Well?”
“The examining physician knows his anatomy.”
“Excellent. Please proceed.”
“The report begins as follows: the patient is a forty-five-year-old male who appears to be his stated age. His blood pressure is one hundred twenty-five over eighty-five, and he has an even pulse of seventy per minute. Examination of the head, eyes, nose, and throat reveals severe psoriasis involving the entire scalp, with lesions extending down well into the posterior neck. Only a few psoriatic plaques are present on the torso. The intense smell of coal tar permeates the entire area. His dental hygiene is good, but several bottom teeth are missing. The heart and lungs are clear, with no abnormal sounds or murmurs. However, on the left lateral chest wall there is a five-by-five-inch black-and-blue area most likely caused by trauma.” I glanced over to Joanna and remarked, “We should determine if the burned corpse has fractured ribs in that location.”
“Does the examining physician believe they are broken?” Joanna asked quickly.
“He only states that the area was tender and that could indicate the ribs were only bruised,” I opined, before continuing on. “The liver and spleen cannot be felt, nor are there palpable lymph nodes in the inguinal region. His extremities are unremarkable, other than he has an amputated small toe on the left.” I could not help but smile at the seemingly insignificant finding. “A missing toe!”
“The signature,” Joanna noted, nodding in satisfaction.
“Indeed.”
Bradshaw was not impressed, saying, “A missing toe is hardly conclusive evidence.”
“It is if the prisoner you buried has all ten of his,” Joanna informed.
Bradshaw appeared to sink into his chair. “Your point is well taken.”
“And this finding may yet beg another question for you to answer,” said Joanna.
“Which is?”
“Who is the man you buried?”
“And how does he fit into this scheme,” I added.
“That, too,” Joanna concurred and arose from her chair. “Now I would like to examine the restoration workshop where the explosion took place.”
“I am afraid it remains in a bit of a mess,” Bradshaw said.
“So there has been no cleanup?”
“Not as yet.”
“Excellent, for an untouched crime scene serves our purposes best.”
“Why are you so convinced that a crime has occurred?”
“Because I have a nose for it.”
We strode down a very long corridor, passing through a series of locked doors, then took two flights of stairs down before reaching the furniture restoration workshop. It was a large room that held shelves filled with numerous unopened jars and cans, all neatly stacked together. A rack on the wall had protruding pegs upon which various tools could be placed and secured. The air still smelled of burnt wood and yet another pungent odor that I surmised was emitted by the flammable solvent which has taken someone’s life.
“This is the area where the explosion occurred,” Bradshaw said, gesturing to a badly burned table and then to a scorched, blackened cabinet that rested upon it. “Edmunds was mixing up his specially prepared solvent when someone came too near with a lighted cigarette.”
“Specially prepared?” Joanna inquired. “Did he make his own solvent?”
“He insisted on it, for it was in his opinion far superior to those that are commercially available,” replied Bradshaw.
Joanna moved closer to the badly charred cabinet and seemed to be most interested in its position on the workbench. It appeared to be at an angle so that it faced another similar workbench upon which stood a chair that had also been scorched by the flames. “Where were the witnesses located at the moment of the explosion?”
“There was only one witness, Robbie Gates, who was sanding a chair on the adjacent table,” Bradshaw answered.
Joanna paced off the distance between the charred cabinet and the scorched chair. “Fifteen feet apart,” she announced.
“Which is surely close enough for a clear recognition,” said Bradshaw. “In addition, Gates has quite good vision and does not wear glasses, which I suspect was to be the answer to your next question.”
“It was,” Joanna
