Barbara Cleverly (8 page)

‘I was anticipating the question and I’ll tell you roundly — no. Ask anybody. I think they’d all say the same.’

While they had been speaking the horses had ambled on but now William Somersham pulled his horse to a halt and, turning to look seriously at Joe, he said, ‘Another thing, Sandilands, a deuced peculiar thing and one I haven’t yet mentioned to anyone else. Not sure they would have taken any notice. Fact is, Peggy was horrified by blood. Couldn’t bear the tiniest cut on a finger and a nose bleed — well, one of the children had a nose bleed at a fancy dress party she was helping to give — only the usual childish thing — but it was too much for Peggy. She screamed and ran from the room! There is no way in this world that, if she wanted to take her life, this is the way she would have chosen. And if someone killed her by slitting her wrists and holding her there while the bath filled with her blood, then it was the most cruel, calculated death they could have devised! Why, Sandilands? Why?’

Ť ^ ť

There was a long pause, broken at last by Somersham. ‘For God’s sake, Sandilands — do what you can!’ And he swung his pony about and cantered away without a further word.

Naurung drew up beside Joe. ‘The sahib is very distressed by his wife’s death. We must perhaps think that he certainly did not kill her

’ Naurung left the sentence trailing so that it turned into a question.

‘We must think no such thing! I’ve interviewed many bereaved husbands in tears and storms of emotion and calling on the police for retribution only to find their fingerprints all over the knife or bludgeon. And the strange thing is, Naurung, that the tears and the distress are genuine. No — William Somersham must remain a strong suspect for the time being.’

Naurung pondered this for a moment but then nodded his approval and they resumed their tour.

Turning into Plassey Street, Naurung pointed to a card on a gatepost. ‘Terence Halloran. IAMC.’ The station doctor. ‘You are expected, sahib.’

Joe handed his card to a servant who came out to greet him and was shown instantly into the doctor’s office where he sat surrounded by the debris of lunch. Jovial and Irish, he greeted Joe as an old friend, shouting orders for the remains of his meal to be cleared away and coffee served.

‘I was hoping we’d meet sooner or later,’ he said. ‘Very interested to help in any possible way with your enquiry. I expect you’ve come to talk about Peggy Somersham? Not much I can tell you that’s not in my report, though, and I take it you’ve seen that?’

‘I’ve had time to do no more than glance through it,’ said Joe, selecting the document from the pile. ‘So, if you wouldn’t mind going through it with me while I check the facts it would be a great help. Especially now I’ve familiarised myself with the scene of the death.’

‘Of course. Fire away. Though I should say at the outset that you must understand that I’m not a pathologist — I’m an army doctor, no more than that. Autopsies are not something I’m ever called on to perform. Stitching people up is more my line, not taking them apart!’

‘Yes, I understand that,’ said Joe. ‘Now you say in your statement that you were fetched to the Somersham bungalow by your bearer?’

‘Yes. I have a telephone here and the Collector rang with the news. My bearer took the message. I was out in the lines at number 12 Victoria Road — suspected measles — and he came running over to find me. It was about a quarter to eight by the time I got there.’

‘Can you tell me what state the corpse was in when you arrived?’

‘As I said, any initial cadaveric rigidity had passed so death had not occurred immediately preceding my arrival. But there was no sign of rigor mortis either so I would place the death at less than two hours before.’

‘The time given by the ayah of her last sighting of Mrs Somersham alive was six o’clock.’

‘Yes. I believe she died very soon after that. Impossible to calculate from the evidence of the blood clotting because the temperature of the water would distort it. It was still very liquid when I saw her.’

‘Did you see anything odd about the wounds which caused her death?’

‘Yes, of course I did!’ said Halloran. ‘But, as Bulstrode pointed out to me on more than one occasion, it’s no part of my job to do more than indicate the cause of death and the cause of death was obvious enough — loss of blood. Poor girl bled to death.’

‘But did you notice anything unusual in the direction of the cuts?’ Joe persisted. ‘There is no mention of the actual wounds here in the report.’

‘I most certainly did notice something unusual. And so did Mrs Drummond. It’s not in the report because Bulstrode told me not to waste time theorising but if you’re ready to listen, then I’ll tell you. There were three anomalies. Firstly, there were no trial wounds.’

Joe looked questioningly at him and he elaborated, ‘If someone’s going to cut his wrists he usually makes a few trial slashes on one wrist — just to get the feel of it, to estimate how much force he’s going to need to do the job. And I say “he” because it’s a male sort of method. Can’t think of another woman who’s done it

Secondly, the direction and strength of the cuts was odd. You find that one cut is weaker than the other. Peggy was right-handed. I would have expected her to cut the left wrist first then transfer the blade to her weaker hand and have a go at her right wrist. This second cut would normally be much more hesitant with the shock of the blood flowing. Also the direction was not right. Show me how you’d do it — go on, cut your wrists with this,’ he said, offering Joe a paper knife.

Joe made two slashes across his wrists.

‘That’s right. Outside edge to inside on each. With Peggy’s wounds it was outside to inside on the left and inside to outside on the right. Try that. Impossible, isn’t it? Well, not impossible perhaps but bloody unlikely if you’re killing yourself. A bit of fancy knife-work is going to be the last thing on your mind if you’re doing away with yourself, I would have thought.’

‘And the third thing?’ asked Joe.

‘The force used. Now Peggy was a strapping lass but I have strong doubts that she could have exerted the degree of strength that was shown. Her wrists weren’t just slashed — her hands were damn nearly severed.’

‘Thank you, Halloran,’ said Joe, scribbling in his notebook. ‘And lastly, can you tell me anything about the marks on her neck? They were even visible on the photographs Mrs Drummond took.’

‘Finger and thumb marks. I did manage to get a reference to that into the report, you’ll see. When I insisted that it couldn’t be suicide, Bulstrode interpreted the marks as evidence that Somersham had tried to strangle her before cutting her wrists.’

‘Are they consistent with a strangulation attempt in your estimation?’

Halloran shrugged. ‘Not unless Somersham is deformed and has his hands on back to front. Look here,’ he said, getting to his feet and walking behind Joe. ‘There were thumb marks (pre-mortem) here on the back of the shoulders and finger marks here at the front at the base of her throat.’ He demonstrated the hold used. ‘That’s not how you’d go about strangling your wife.’

‘But it is exactly how you’d hold a wriggling woman down in a bath of water until she bled to death.’

‘Quite. Tell you something else, Sandilands. If you’ve seen the room you’ll have noticed the stains?’

Joe nodded.

‘You should have seen them before they were cleaned! Sprayed all over the walls. She’d obviously thrashed around and waved her arms about in agony. You don’t do that if you’re killing yourself according to the Roman tradition. You sit quietly and wait for the end, thinking noble thoughts.’

‘But if you’re being killed surely you scream? If the murderer has both his hands on your shoulders, you are free to scream? And your servants and husband come running.’

‘Not if the person unknown has already gagged you,’ said Halloran. ‘Not something you could have made out on the photographs, however sharp Mrs Drummond’s Kodak lens! There were abrasions at the corners of her mouth, abrasions consistent with the application of a gag. Removed after the act because it was never found.’

‘One last question,’ said Joe. ‘You didn’t do a full postmortem investigation, I see — I wonder whether you were aware that Peggy Somersham was pregnant?’

Halloran sat back in his chair, his surprise evident. ‘Good Lord, no!’ he said. ‘Oh, no! How bloody! No, she hadn’t been to consult me. Not unusual

they normally wait until they’re absolutely certain. This is terrible news, Sandilands! Bulstrode was pushing for burial — we don’t get the thirty hours before decomposition you get in London and the cause was very obvious

’ His voice trailed away and he looked uncomfortably through the window, lost in thought.

‘I think she had told no one but her husband, so no surprise,’ said Joe equably. ‘And I think it might be a good idea to keep it between ourselves at this stage.’

‘Certainly. Quite see why,’ agreed Halloran quickly. ‘And look here, Sandilands, off the record and stepping outside my job — the poor girl was murdered, we both know that — and I’m overjoyed that, belatedly, someone has picked this up. Rumour has it that we owe this to Nancy Drummond. Am I right? Determined girl! She’s got the ear of the Governor and now she’s got your ear too. And come to that, she’s got mine, begod!’

Thanking him for his time and mutually expressing the hope that ‘we should meet at the Club one of these evenings

always glad to pick up the gossip from London

’ Joe resumed his ride.

Naurung took him first along the dangerous mountain pass on which Sheila Forbes’ horse had shied. He dismounted at the place where the accident had happened and, lying down, peered over the edge into the void below. A dizzying drop, he noted, with no cushioning scree slope down which a well-clad memsahib might bounce between the precipice rim and the river bank many yards below. The river curled on its way between its dusty banks like a fat brown adder and Joe shivered as he conjured up the scene ten years ago when Mrs Forbes had fallen screaming into this abyss. He pictured her wearing a cumbersome pre-war riding habit, being suddenly ejected from her side-saddle and falling head first to her death.

The place itself was full of ancient terror. Hard-nosed policeman he might be but Joe admitted to himself that he was sweating with fear. He wriggled carefully backwards on to the path and rose to his feet.

Naurung eyed him for a moment and said, ‘This is a bad, bad place. The horses do not like it.’

‘Can’t say I’d stop for a picnic here myself. Let’s look about, shall we?’

He turned and looked back the way they had come from the station. ‘Well-used track apparently but here, about fifty yards back, it narrows and a group of riders would have to split up and ride along in file.’ He looked in the northern direction. ‘And after this bend where the path runs right along the precipice between the edge and that large rock is another hundred yards — would you say a hundred? — before there’s a chance of bunching up again with your friends. Naurung, pass me the records, would you? It would be interesting to see where exactly in the file of horses Sheila Forbes was riding. Did Bulstrode record that?’

‘No, sahib, but I believe one of the witnesses mentions it.’

Joe found the place and sat in the shelter of the rock to read the accounts of the accident given by the friends she had been riding with.

‘This is interesting, Naurung. Mrs Major Richardson — Emma — has this to say: “Sheila was riding her own pony, Rowan — she never rode any other — and began to fall behind almost at once. She called to us that Rowan was going short on his near hind and she was going to dismount to look at it. She signalled to us to go on without her. It must have been a stone or something lodged in the hoof because she got back into the saddle and carried on. By this time she was about a quarter of a mile behind. We waved to her and rode on, expecting her to catch us up. We were getting to the slow bit anyway, the bit where the path narrows and you have to go single file, and we lost sight of her when we wound around the rocks. We’d all passed the tight place and gathered together to wait for Sheila to come round the bend. She never did. The next thing was the most appalling scream. The horse was neighing and we realised something dreadful must have happened. We rode back and there was just the horse, Rowan, by the side of the path, shivering. No sign of Sheila. Cathy Brownlow looked over the edge and shouted, “There she is! I can see her!’

‘ “Two of the party rode back to the station for help while the other three looked for a way down to the river bank. While we were casting about we came upon a saddhu by the road side

” A saddhu?’ Joe queried.

‘Yes. They are wandering holy men and I will say that I do not like them. For all their ritual washings they are dirty people. Some, I suppose, truly seek enlightenment and many stand on one leg for hours, perhaps days, on end. But I and others like me see them as dirty scoundrels who get what they can from foolish people — mostly from women — and what they get they spend on opium or on bhang. They daub their faces with wood ash and saffron. They wear a little pouch on a string and nothing else. They are really a naked people — very disgusting. I would chase them away and my father often did. They cover their bodies with ash and yellow paint and they are not polite to women. Oh, there are bad stories but they are holy people and must be allowed to behave as they have always behaved.’

Joe resumed his reading. ‘ “He told us how we could get down to the river. He didn’t speak any English but luckily Cathy can manage a bit of Hindustani and that seemed to work. We gave him a four anna piece and asked him if he’d seen anything. He said he’d seen the whole thing. The horse had shied at something in the path — a snake possibly — and had unseated Sheila.

‘ “At the time it never occurred to us that he could have been responsible. He made no attempt to hide which he could easily have done in that terrain — I mean, you could hide a whole division in those rocks — and was really very helpful. For a saddhu. We offered him another four annas and he agreed to come back with us to the station and make a statement.”