Aware of the other’s man’s predicament, Clement Ryder bit back a rather savage grin. ‘I wasn’t aware that you’d noticed, Inspector,’ he couldn’t resist taunting him a little. But before Jennings could really take umbrage, he slipped in smoothly, ‘I take it I’ll be given the services of WPC Loveday again? She’ll be acting as my police liaison, as before?’
The Inspector gave a huge sigh. ‘Yes sir. I’ll be speaking to my constable before she finishes her shift tonight. She can attend the inquest out of uniform, since I don’t want the reporters finding out about her involvement until absolutely necessary.’
In a previous investigation with the coroner, WPC Trudy Loveday had got her picture in the papers accepting a reward from a grateful peer of the realm for saving the life of his son. No doubt, her appearance in the May Queen murder case would eventually cause a minor stir. Jennings only hoped she could keep under the radar for a while.
‘The last thing we need is for the press to get it into their head that because David Finch was the son of a serving, high-ranking police officer, that he or his family are getting special privileges,’ Harry Jennings said. Even if they were, he thought to himself.
‘The young man’s dead, Inspector, and his family in mourning,’ Dr Ryder said flatly.
‘That won’t stop them being out in force, trying to pick up on something that they can use to tear him to shreds,’ Harry Jennings predicted glumly.
Chapter 3
The Inspector’s prophetic words were brought back to Clement’s mind the following Monday morning as he officially opened the inquest into the death of David Peter Finch. For the press gallery was indeed lined with the avid faces of men – and two women – who watched and waited, hoping for sensationalism with the keen anticipation of their profession, notebooks open and pencils at the ready.
Amongst their number was one that he knew from of old.
Duncan Gillingham met the coroner’s gaze and gave a wide, insolent grin. Clement frowned slightly, but let his gaze sweep past the handsome young man, not giving him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence. Although he’d had the misfortune to meet this particular gentleman of the press before, he hadn’t been much impressed by him.
The public gallery was also packed, as it always was whenever a case smacked of sex, scandal or intrigue. He sighed slightly, but was by now too old and resigned to mourn the more depressing aspects of human nature. Instead his eyes scanned the ranks of eager faces for one in particular, and spotted it in the middle of one of the back rows – a slender young woman with a mass of dark, curling hair, and big, appealing brown eyes.
Trudy Loveday smiled briefly back at him, acknowledging his very slight nod of greeting.
She’d been almost out the door of the station last night when DI Jennings had called her back and informed her that she would be working with Dr Clement Ryder once more on another case. She’d been absolutely delighted by the unexpected turn of events, but also very surprised. It was not often that her superior officers had actually sought them out to give them an assignment, as opposed to Dr Ryder more or less forcing their hand.
Of course, she understood that Superintendent Finch would be desperate for his son to be exonerated of implied guilt in the murder of his girlfriend, but even so, she could tell from Inspector Jennings’s manner that he wasn’t particularly happy about the situation.
It depressed her that, even now, he still thought that she was only useful for dealing with the female victims of crime, making the tea, filing and walking the deadest, most boring of beats. In other words, all the jobs that nobody else wanted!
Now she sat up a little straighter in her seat as the coroner called the court to order and began the proceedings. As per Inspector Jennings’s instructions, she was dressed in plain clothes, consisting of a long, dark green skirt, white blouse and blue, green and white patterned cardigan. She’d deliberately left her hair long and unfettered, knowing that it helped disguise her appearance, for she knew that she looked very different with her most distinguishing feature hidden underneath a police cap. Even so, she hoped that nobody was taking much notice of her as she discreetly pulled a notebook out of her bag and prepared to use her fluent shorthand.
This was the first time in all their collaborations that she’d been given advance notice of the case she would end up investigating, and she was determined not to miss anything. Not that she expected Dr Ryder to be anything other than eagle-eyed and observant as ever, naturally.
She listened to him now as he went quickly through the preliminary facts, establishing that the jury were there to establish the identity of the deceased, and if possible, the cause of death. They were not there, he warned the jury, giving them a hard, slow stare, to speculate about anything other than the matter in hand and the evidence as presented to them.
The two women on the jury flushed a little at this, as if at a personal rebuke, and even a few of the men shuffled uneasily on their seats. No doubt they had all been reading about the brutal and flamboyant murder of the May Queen, and the press speculation surrounding those closest to her – including her now deceased boyfriend. But if they had been
