There was another murmur at this, abruptly cut off as Clement turned to survey the room, his expression flashing out a warning to be silent.
‘I see. When you had been told the awful news of your son’s death, did you search his room for a suicide note?’ Clement asked next. It was a brutal question, but the police officer, apart from a quick blink, made no sign that the abrupt change of questioning had affected him.
‘Yes, I did, in the company of DI Jennings, who had come to deliver the news. No such note was found. And—’ here he turned to look directly at the jury ‘—it’s my solemn belief that my son would not have committed suicide, under any circumstances whatsoever.’ He paused, swallowed hard and added roughly, ‘He simply wouldn’t have done that to his mother.’
At this there was another murmur that swept through the room, and several members of the jury had to look away from the grieving father’s flat stare. Clement decided it was a good moment to dismiss the witness.
After a few more needful but – much to the public’s disgust – not particularly interesting proceedings, Clement finally gave his usual speech to the jury. He told them that they were there to establish the identity of the deceased, the cause of his death (which in this case the medical evidence made very clear was due to hanging) and, if possible, the manner by which he had come to his end.
He pointed out heavily that, in the absence of a suicide note, and with no clear forensic evidence in play, they should not rush to judgements – and that an Open Verdict was perfectly acceptable should they be unsure.
But as he dismissed them to consider their verdict he was under no illusion, and sure enough, within only ten minutes, they came back with a verdict of suicide, whilst of unsound mind.
His eyes briefly met those of Superintendent Finch before he thanked the jury and dismissed the court, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. It was enough, he hoped, to reassure the grieving father that this was not the end of it and further investigations would duly be made.
Chapter 6
‘Well, that was more or less what we expected,’ Clement said to Trudy, about twenty minutes later. They were sitting in his office, sipping tea and munching on some very nice gingernut biscuits that his secretary had kindly provided, after consuming some sandwiches cobbled together by way of a late lunch.
‘Yes – I felt sorry for poor Superintendent Finch though,’ Trudy said.
Clement grunted. ‘Well, we need to make some sort of plan of action. What do you suggest we do first?’
Trudy sighed. ‘Whatever we do, it’s going to be tricky. We can’t step on anybody’s toes by asking too openly about Iris Carmody, because that investigation is still ongoing, and the Inspector’s made it clear that’s his turf. On the other hand, it’s going to be hard to find out what might have happened to David Finch without at least exploring what also happened to her. No matter which way you look at it, their deaths have to be connected, don’t you agree?’
Clement nodded cautiously. ‘I think it’s more probable than not,’ he conceded.
Trudy nodded more firmly. ‘Right – either he did kill her, no matter what his father thinks, in which case he very likely did kill himself in a fit of remorse or despair or what-have-you afterwards, and we’ll just be chasing our tails trying to find evidence that points to anything else. Or he never had anything to do with her death – in which case, he still might have killed himself out of the grief and pain of losing her …’
‘In my experience,’ Clement slipped in as Trudy paused to take a much needed breath, ‘young lovers killing themselves from broken hearts are more likely to be found in poetry, fiction or bad cinema films than in real life.’
Trudy couldn’t help but smile wryly. ‘That’s a rather cynical way to look at it.’
Clement shrugged. ‘I’ve knocked around the world a lot longer than you have,’ he said, giving her a narrow smile. ‘But carry on; my apologies for interrupting you.’
Trudy shook her head. ‘I don’t mind when you interrupt.’ And indeed, she didn’t. Unlike when DI Jennings or the Sarge interrupted her at work, Dr Ryder usually had something useful or encouraging to say. Which was not always the case with her superior officers! ‘Anyway, er, where was I …? Yes, if David didn’t kill Iris, and didn’t kill himself either, then the only thing we’re left with is that somebody else killed them both, obviously. And presumably they’d only kill David because he had, like his father said, been asking around and doing some private investigating of his own, and had found out something that alarmed Iris’s killer.’
‘Thus making it necessary to get rid of David too,’ Clement nodded.
‘So no matter how we look at it, Iris Carmody’s death is going to prove a major factor in our considerations. But DI Jennings will have my guts for garters if I trespass onto his territory,’ she wailed.
‘Well – we can only do our best,’ Clement said briskly. Clearly he thought nothing of crossing swords with Harry Jennings. But then, Jennings had no power over him, so he could afford to be cavalier, Trudy thought a shade resentfully.
Seemingly catching her mood, Clement suddenly grinned at her. ‘Cheer up – and don’t forget – it’s possible that we might find something to help Jennings solve his own murder investigation, in which case, he’ll be all smiles and will forgive all.’
Trudy blinked, trying to imagine a cheerful Inspector Jennings. She shuddered slightly then sighed. ‘Well, I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning,’ she offered prosaically. ‘And
