“To escape from what, may I ask?”
“That is a query that Mr. David Hughes alone can answer. But I think it worthwhile for you to run that name through your criminal files and missing persons section to see if there is a match.”
“We shall indeed, but you must admit that is a rather long shot,” said Lestrade, then looked over to Joanna who was gazing out a side window. “You have been very quiet on this matter, madam. What say you as to the whereabouts of James Blackstone?”
“He remains in London,” Joanna replied.
“Even though our strongest evidence indicates he is in Australia?”
“Even though,” said Joanna as our car pulled up to the curb outside St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.
We gowned and masked ourselves before entering the autopsy room where the charred corpse awaited us. It lay on the dissection table and, under the bright light, had an even more disgusting appearance than before. The blackish-green body was now severely bloated as a result of enzymes and bacteria digesting the dead tissue and releasing noxious gases into all tissues. We quickly placed small dabs of menthol cream under our masks in an attempt to dampen the awful stench arising from the corpse. I decided against opening the abdomen or thorax, for at this stage of putrefaction their organs would be unrecognizable and little more than liquefied tissue.
“John, please describe the remarkable findings as you come across them,” Joanna requested.
“Let us begin with the body in general,” said I, snapping on rubber gloves. “The corpse is that of a male, as evidenced by the external genitalia, but none of his other features are recognizable because of the severe burns which have charred every inch of his skin. Putrefaction has bloated the body, most notably the abdomen, and added a greenish tint to its surface.”
“I take it these findings are consistent with a body that has been dead for three weeks,” Joanna inquired.
“Quite so,” I replied and moved to the corpse’s head. “The face is deeply burned, with charred tissue resting upon scorched bone. Most of the hair is gone, but I can still see stubbles beneath the nose and on the chin, indicating that a beard and moustache of some thickness were once present. The skull appears to be intact, but there is definite evidence of a healed fracture of the zygomatic arch on the left.” I clarified this finding for Lestrade. “Inspector, the zygomatic arch comprises most of the cheekbone, and here it is distorted, with irregular healing and dense deposits of calcium. So we can conclude it is from a long time ago and was quite disfiguring.”
“Easily noticeable, then,” Lestrade noted.
“And difficult to hide, even with a most thick beard,” I added. “It would have shown itself as an obvious indentation, with a covering scar.”
“Can you determine its origin?”
“Not with any degree of certainty, for no foreign bodies were present, but a fall or fight would be the most likely cause.”
Joanna interjected, “Inspector, you should be aware that Harry Edmunds had no such disfigurement, whilst his cellmate Derrick Wilson was so damaged.”
“Are you certain of this?” Lestrade asked.
“Beyond any doubt,” Joanna assured. “Derrick Wilson’s disfigured cheek was described to us by another inmate we interrogated during our visit to Wormwood Scrubs.”
“And Harry Edmunds had no similar facial damage?”
“Not according to the physician who performed a thorough physical examination on Edmunds upon his arrival at the prison.”
I next went to the neck where the cutaneous tissue had been completely burned away, exposing a melted and collapsed trachea. “His airway was completely blocked off by the intense flames, and he most likely died immediately of suffocation which is not unusual in severe burn cases. So, in addition to the agony of the burns, such patients literally choke to death.”
I moved past the bloated abdomen and charred genitalia to the lower extremities that showed more evidence of significant trauma. One of the kneecaps had been fractured, but had healed well and would cause no disfiguration. Then I arrived at the feet and saw the signature marking we expected to find. “All ten toes are present!” I announced. “This finding is of critical importance, Inspector, for Harry Edmunds had a missing small toe, whilst our charred corpse has no such defect.”
Joanna stepped in for a closer look and recounted the phalanges. “I must admit that I was concerned the intense fire together with the putrefaction process might have caused the digits to drop off, which would have presented quite a problem.”
“You raise a good point,” I stated. “But fortunately the fire did not burn through the ligaments that keep the toes attached to the foot, and in fact rarely does. The putrefaction process itself will not be a cause for worry, for the ligaments do not disappear until many months have passed. Had that occurred, we would be looking at a jumble of small, disjointed bones. So, when all is said and done, we have a charred corpse with a facial disfigurement and all ten toes, and thus can say good-bye to the plausibility that these remains belong to Harry Edmunds.”
“And we can say hello to Mr. Derrick Wilson.”
We quickly disrobed and walked out into the corridor to further discuss our findings, but were interrupted by a sergeant from Scotland Yard who urgently signaled Lestrade aside.
“Harry Edmunds is a most clever devil,” Joanna remarked whilst we waited for Lestrade. “It was an ingenious plan and he nearly got away with it.”
“Yet from the start, I had the feeling you never truly believed Edmunds died in that fire,” said my father. “Were there clues we overlooked?”
Joanna shook her head at the question. “You observed the same clues as I did. First, as you noted earlier, Edmunds was an experienced restorer who was very familiar with solvents and their flammability. He was far too smart to allow a lighted cigarette to be in the vicinity where a solvent was being prepared. And secondly, there was the incontrovertible evidence that Harry Edmunds,