According to the Evidence (23 page)

‘Must be a bit of a change for a country solicitor,' observed Angela. ‘He probably spends most his time conveyancing expensive cottages and writing leases on farms!'

They progressed from coffee to their usual gin and tonic, though Richard was beginning to feel ready for his bed after a long day in London.

‘No news from the War Office chaps, I suppose?' he asked sleepily as he sank further into the comfortable old armchair.

Angela shook her head. ‘Not a word yet, by phone or mail. I suppose they're trying to persuade either the widow or the Home Office to allow an exhumation.'

‘Can't really do a thing without that,' agreed Richard. ‘The poor woman can't win her case and the War Office can't defend one, so it seems a stalemate. I wonder if they're getting that bullet from the Gulf. The way that place operates, they've probably lost it down a drain by now.'

‘I feel very sorry for her,' said Angela sympathetically. ‘And our crusading Siân is a bit annoyed that we're acting on the side of the new Tory government, which she says is trying to sabotage the wife's claim.'

‘I can see the woman's anger over the suspicion that it was a deliberate shooting by this staff sergeant,' said Richard. ‘Not that that seems all that likely to me. But compensation for his death, over and above her normal pension, seems a bit out of order, unless it was due to some negligence on the part of the army.'

His partner bridled a little at this. ‘Why not, if she lost her husband and his very good rate of pay as a warrant officer?'

Richard turned up his hands in defence. ‘Sure, if there was any fault on the part of the War Office, such as bad training, or equipment failure or recklessness. But unfortunately soldiers are being killed every day in other parts of the world, like Malaya, Cyprus and Kenya. Their relatives are not suing the government, as being in the armed forces is a dangerous business.'

Angela didn't seem convinced, but, as Richard pointed out, their job was to establish the physical facts and leave the morals and the law to others. They finished their drinks, and Richard hauled himself out of the chair, leaving Angela to wait for the start of a BBC Symphony Orchestra concert on the Third Programme.

She was keen on classical music, especially Mozart and Vivaldi – a little over the top for Richard, who was more a male-voice choir and light opera fan. He left her to her large Marconi radiogram, which stood next to a rack of records, and went to his office, where he wanted to look at the day's mail before having a shower and going to bed.

However, he was seduced by a copy of the
Practical Viniculture
magazine which had arrived that day. Fifteen minutes later, he was sound asleep in his chair. He awoke two hours later with a crick in his neck and dragged himself off to bed, with the faint sounds of a recording of the
Jupiter
symphony coming from Angela's room.

SEVENTEEN

I
t was the following Tuesday before the usual routine of the Garth House partnership was disturbed. The coroner's officer in Brecon phoned to say that a double inquest on the two deaths at Ty Croes Farm was to be held on Friday and that both Richard Pryor and Dr Bray would be required as witnesses.

‘Why on earth do they want me, I wonder?' asked Angela. ‘Apart from collecting some material for the Cardiff lab, I had nothing really to do with it.'

‘It's a day out in beautiful countryside,' said Richard cheerily. ‘And there'll be a fee – probably enough for a couple of cups of coffee, given it's only a coroner's court.'

For some time Siân had been dropping hints about wanting to visit a court of law, where she could see how her efforts in the laboratory were sometimes used. Angela suggested to Richard that the Brecon inquest might be a good introduction for her, as they were keen to encourage her enthusiasm for all things forensic. The young blonde was as pleased as if they had given her a salary rise – which they had not long ago, as it happened.

But before the great day arrived, more news came in about their other cases. A large registered envelope came from Stow-on-the-Wold, containing copies of the expert opinion written by Professor Zigmond and a copy of the sworn affidavit from Wolfgang Braun in Cologne. George Lovesey wanted Richard to make a careful check of the wording to make sure that there would be no hitches when they were presented in evidence.

‘No sign yet of the American opinions?' asked Angela as he retreated to his office to go through the documents.

‘Should be here soon, if airmail performs as well as last time,' he replied. ‘I expect George is biting his fingernails every time he looks at the calendar.'

An hour later, satisfied that every word, comma and full stop was acceptable, Richard rang the solicitor in Stow and reassured him that the affidavits seemed in perfect order.

‘You don't have to disclose these to the prosecution in advance, then?' he asked out of curiosity.

‘No, but once we offer them in evidence, they could ask the judge for an adjournment to discuss the spanner we've thrown in the works. They could even ask for time for their experts to investigate our new propositions.'

Richard heard him clear his throat over the telephone and suspected he was in for a legal lecture.

‘There's been unease about these “surprise defences”, as they're called, among the law lords and the legal pundits in Parliament,' he explained. ‘I suspect that one of these days there'll be a change in legal procedure to make advance notice of new evidence compulsory, but at the present time we can spring it on them.'

Lovesey confirmed that his leading counsel, the flamboyant Nathan Prideaux QC, had been kept abreast of Richard's efforts and was happy with the way in which things were progressing. ‘He wants another conference before trial, but I haven't got a date yet. I'll be in touch with you again as soon as this material comes from the United States.'

After the call, Richard felt unsettled, as keeping track of several cases at once called for some mental agility. The murder-suicide near Brecon was now a straightforward clearing-up exercise, as there was no question of anyone being prosecuted, but the veterinary surgeon threatened with judicial execution, and the strange matter of the soldier shot through the head, seemed to be hanging over him like a cloud. To divert himself, he got up from his desk and wandered into the office and then through into the laboratory to take his mind off these problems.

‘What are you doing this morning, Siân?' he asked as he stood behind his technician, who was seated before several rows of test tubes in racks.

‘This is new, doctor! Water analysis, not exactly forensic, but it's all grist to the mill.'

Angela called across from her bench on the other side of the large room. ‘Jimmy got that work, bless him!' she explained.

‘Some of his farmer friends up near Trelleck have had boreholes drilled on their land for a water supply and they want to make sure that they're not going to poison themselves or their cattle. It's mostly spot tests for dissolved metals.'

Siân swung round on her stool, a pipette in one hand.

‘Jimmy says that there may well be a number of other farmers wanting an analysis, if we can do it cheaper than the big labs elsewhere.'

Richard moved over to his partner's section, where all the biological work was done. ‘More paternity tests?' he asked.

‘No, it's an insurance job,' replied Angela, looking up from a microscope. ‘The owner of a fur shop in Bristol has claimed thousands for stolen mink coats, but their insurance investigator has sent in fibres from a suspect van belonging to the owner's cousin.'

‘You've got to identify them, have you?'

She nodded. ‘They're animal fur, right enough. I'll have to try to narrow it down to mink, if I can find the right references. Anyway, the cousin said he used the van only for carrying carpets, so it's obviously an insurance fraud.'

He squatted on a nearby stool, pleased to hear how they were diversifying their business.

‘It's good to know we're expanding into the civil side, not just coroners' and police work. There must be lots of other problems out there that we can help with.'

Angela readily agreed. ‘And the other good thing is that we're getting almost all our new cases by word of mouth – usually solicitors recommending us to one another. Nothing to beat the old boy network, is there?'

‘Perhaps you'd better join the Freemasons and the local Rotary Club, doctor!' called Siân from her bench. ‘My dad says that's where all the power lies these days.'

Richard grinned at Angela at the thought of getting business advice from a red-hot trade unionist like Evan Lloyd, then took himself back to his office to check the last batch of post-mortem reports which Moira had just typed.

Half an hour later his phone rang, switched through from Moira's office next door. When a few months earlier Post Office Telephones had extended the single line to the phone in the hall, they had put a simple switching device in her office, so that she could divert a call to either the laboratory or to Richard's room.

‘It's the War Office!' she hissed in a conspiratorial whisper before connecting the call.

‘Gordon Lane here, Dr Pryor.' The voice of the Crown solicitor came across the ether. ‘We've made some progress, I'm glad to say. The first thing is that the bullet has arrived from Al Tallah. We've got it in a jar in the office here, safely wrapped in cotton wool.'

‘Good. I suggest you ask your ordnance experts in Woolwich to examine it, but I'd like to have a look at it first,' said Richard. ‘What was the second thing?'

‘That's the point of ringing, as we also have had consent from both the widow and the Home Office for an exhumation. I wanted to arrange a date with you.'

Richard Pryor was surprised at the speedy action, which normally could take weeks or even months. ‘That's very quick work, Mr Lane! How did you manage that?' he asked, perhaps impertinently. The lawyer sounded a little evasive.

‘There are ways and means within government, doctor. Anyway, the widow's solicitor saw that they were not going to get any further with their claim if they refused – and the coroner for Northolt, where the body came in by air, said that it was none of his concern as he had declined to hold an inquest.'

‘So that left just the Home Office?'

‘Yes, and even they were somewhat uncertain about their jurisdiction as this was an army incident that occurred abroad. However, to be on the safe side they rubber-stamped the appropriate forms, so we can proceed.'

Richard thought rapidly, as the Gloucester trial was now less that a fortnight away. He had the Brecon inquest this week, so that ruled out the next few days.

‘I think it will have to be one day next week, Mr Lane. As far as I recall, the body is buried in south-east London?'

‘Yes, in Lewisham municipal cemetery.'

‘Where could we take it for a post-mortem, somewhere that has decent facilities?' asked Richard.

‘I've discussed this with Paul Bannerman, who's leading this case. He suggests the Queen Alexandra Military Hospital in Millbank. Perhaps you know it, having been an RAMC officer?'

‘I know where it is, certainly. Very near the Royal Army Medical College, with the Tate Gallery between them.'

‘Paul Bannerman is still a serving officer, so I'm sure he can arrange matters with the hospital commandant. Which day would suit you best?'

Richard decided that Wednesday would be as good as any other, and the solicitor promised to ring back to confirm a time.

‘We'll have to make arrangements with the cemetery for the exhumation and also for transport from Lewisham to Millbank.'

After he had rung off, Richard went to report to his partner. ‘Trip to London next week, Angela. Know anything about bullets?' He repeated what Lane had told him.

‘I'm a biologist, not a firearms examiner,' she said. ‘But I've picked up a bit of the jargon and mystique from listening to them in the Met Lab over the years.'

‘Good enough. You can look at the thing with me next week. I've got a feeling about what could have happened, but first I need to look at that wound.'

At lunchtime he told Moira and Siân about the developments, but neither of them wanted to join Angela on a trip to London.

‘Must be horrid, an exhumation,' said Moira with an expression of disgust. ‘How long has the poor chap been buried?'

‘Only a few months – and he was embalmed first, so he'll be almost as good as new.'

‘I'm happy to be coming to that inquest with you, doctor,' said Siân. ‘And I saw a couple of post-mortems when I worked in the hospital lab. But I draw the line at exhumations!'

That evening Richard talked to Angela about the arrangements for the following week. ‘We're not going to get our dirty weekend, I'm afraid. But as the exhumation is bound to be in the morning, we'll have to travel up on Tuesday.'

Angela made a mock pout. ‘Oh, and I was looking forward to a sinful Saturday night!'

His lean face broke into one of his famous grins. ‘We may as well make a day of it, so we'll go up early on the Red Dragon and you can have the afternoon to hit the shops while I go to the BMA library to see if they've got anything I missed elsewhere.'

‘Oh, you're so masterful, Richard! The romantic BMA library!' In a playful mood, she pretended to swoon.

‘Stop taking the mickey, lady!' he commanded. ‘We've got to decide on somewhere to stay. I suppose the Great Western Hotel at Paddington is the easiest, especially as we're not footing the bill.'