The Burning (25 page)

‘And if Mr Morgan’s arm was broken before death, could he still have inflicted the gunshot wound on himself?’ Jenny asked.

‘It’s possible. He would have to have held the gun in his left hand and possibly rested the butt on a table or shelf. He would have had no control over the fingers of his right
hand.’

‘Before I invite you to speculate further, Doctor, could you please tell us about the condition of the two girls’ bodies?’

Tears formed in Kelly’s eyes for the first time as he gave a detailed account of his findings. Dealing first with Layla, he told the jury that some of her tissues remained, thanks to the
way in which the house had collapsed around her, saving her body from the most intense heat. Dissection of the lower abdomen had revealed beyond doubt that she was carrying a foetus of
approximately fourteen weeks’ gestation. Layla had also suffered a shotgun wound: it was ten centimetres wide and centred around the fourth thoracic vertebrae. In other words, she had been
shot through the back. Mandy’s body was a little more fire-damaged than her older sister’s, and she had also been shot: at point-blank range through the centre of her chest.

With a little more prompting from Jenny, Dr Kerr drew together all of his findings to describe the most likely scenario. Assuming Ed Morgan had fired the fatal shots, he must of course have shot
the two girls before turning the gun on himself. The position of Layla’s body in the rubble suggested that she had been lying on the stairs or landing when the floor collapsed beneath her.
Mandy had been somewhere around the threshold of her bedroom. So, having written his final message at 11.28 p.m., and assuming he had left his phone where it was later found, Ed Morgan would have
arrived home some five or six minutes later. There may or may not have been a physical altercation in which his arm was broken, but it seemed Layla was shot in the back as she ran upstairs and
Mandy was shot at the door to her bedroom. Given that Morgan’s remains were found downstairs at the heart of the fire, it seemed likely that he shot the girls before setting light to the
house, then shooting himself.

‘If his arm had been broken, could he have fired the gun with his left hand?’ Jenny asked.

‘The gun weighs only six pounds, six ounces or 2.9 kilos,’ Dr Kerr explained. ‘I believe that a man as used to handling it as Mr Morgan was could indeed have shot it with his
left hand, with the butt braced against his body.’

‘And what about reloading?’

‘Simple enough, even with one hand,’ Dr Kerr answered.

He concluded his evidence with a report from a specialist ballistics laboratory that had examined the shotgun and some of the lead shot Dr Kerr had recovered from the three sets of remains. The
gun had been fitted with a choke that allowed the shooter to narrow the aperture of the barrel to concentrate the shot in a smaller area, but the choke had been left fully open. The 10 cm wound in
Layla’s back suggested she was shot from a range of between five and a half and seven metres. The pellets recovered from Morgan and the two girls’ bodies were identical: 2.79 mm
birdshot, otherwise known as size 6.

A sombre silence settled over the courtroom as the pathologist’s technical description of events in the house slowly translated into pictures of real events in the minds of his listeners.
Seeing Kelly in distress, Jenny felt a sudden and overwhelming feeling of emptiness and grief on her behalf that, for a brief moment, held her so tightly in its grip she thought she might not be
able to speak.

She drew in a breath and fought hard to compose herself. ‘Thank you, Dr Kerr.’ She turned to the lawyers and invited them to cross-examine.

Robert Newland QC was alone in taking up the offer. ‘Dr Kerr, you have said that in all likelihood the impact from a large timber or falling piece of masonry is the most likely explanation
for Mr Morgan’s broken arm?’

‘Yes.’

‘You weren’t able to test his body for alcohol, were you?’

‘Obviously not.’

‘But let’s for the sake of argument say that he had consumed half a bottle of whiskey. Could that amount of alcohol numb the pain of a broken arm?’

‘It could.’

Newland nodded and looked to the jury to ensure they had absorbed the point. ‘That’s all.’

‘Actually, I do have a question.’ Sam Lever rose wearily to his feet. ‘Dr Kerr, how tall was Mr Morgan?’

‘Six feet, three inches.’

‘Sixteen stone or thereabouts?’

‘Somewhere in that region.’

‘Not an easy man to overpower.’

‘No.’

Lever gave Jenny a pointed look. ‘Thank you, Dr Kerr.’

Jenny glanced back over the notes she had made of DS Millard’s and Dr Kerr’s testimony and found herself unable to resist their conclusion that Ed Morgan had gone on a killing
rampage. The only thing that was truly troubling her was why. What had sparked it? There had to be a reason. If there was a connection with the Susie Ashton disappearance, and if evidence was about
to come to light, someone had to know about it.

‘One final point, Dr Kerr,’ Jenny said. ‘We heard evidence earlier that hinted at the idea that Mr Morgan may have disposed of his son Robbie’s remains by incineration.
In your view, would it be possible to completely dispose of a body that way?’

‘Up to a point.’

‘Can you be more specific?’

‘Well, let’s say he used diesel oil and wood as the fuel. He could have disposed of all the tissue, but some bones and all the teeth would have remained intact, albeit in a weakened
state. These would have to be ground down to render them into ashes.’

‘How would you go about doing that?’

‘The most obvious way would be with a mechanical grinder of some sort. Or if you didn’t have one to hand, you might put the bones in a sack and beat them with a hammer.’

Jenny could see that Newland was on the edge of his seat, ready to object to her straying beyond the limits of her inquiry, but she had all the information she required. ‘That’s most
helpful, Dr Kerr. You may step down.’

A witness. There had to have been a witness. If her theory was correct, someone must have seen something connecting Morgan to the disposal of Susie Ashton’s remains. And whoever that
person was, they must have somehow let him know that his secret was about to escape. She glanced over at Philip and Clare Ashton and saw from their grimly expectant expressions that they were
having the same thought.

She was gripped by a feeling of excitement.
Step by step, Jenny. Stick to the facts. Impartial inquiry.
But she couldn’t help herself. She skipped the next two names in her running
order and instead called the Reverend Helen Medway to the witness box.

Helen Medway and her husband, an insurance broker who worked from offices in Bristol, had lived in Blackstone Ley for nearly ten years as near neighbours of Kelly Hart, Ed Morgan and their
children. But despite their physical proximity, their paths had seldom crossed. To Helen’s knowledge, no member of the family had ever attended the church. For the most part it had been an
entirely peaceful and uneventful coexistence, interrupted only by the occasional visits paid by Layla’s rowdy teenage friends. Even that had been nothing more than a minor irritation. Helen
had almost been glad to see some more life in the village.

‘What was your impression of Ed Morgan?’ Jenny asked.

‘Quiet. Self-contained.’ Helen Medway thought some more. ‘I suppose I always thought of him as a man who was content with his lot. I sometimes saw him working in the garden
– he always seemed very relaxed, part of the landscape, if that’s not too whimsical.’

‘But is it fair to say he was the object of rumour amongst local people?’

‘From time to time.’

Jenny ignored the warning look she was getting from Robert Newland. ‘And those rumours were in relation to the disappearance of Susie Ashton?’

‘Yes. It was all idle gossip, of course.’

‘Why did the gossips focus on him, do you think?’

Helen Medway shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. ‘Probably because people didn’t feel they knew him. He was private. Enigmatic, almost. And of course he knew the country better than
anyone else . . .’ She hesitated.

Jenny completed her thought for her: ‘So people thought that if anyone knew where to hide a body so it wouldn’t be found, it was him.’

‘I suppose that’s right,’ she answered guiltily.

‘Do you think he knew people were having these thoughts?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

Jenny glimpsed Kelly Hart from the corner of her eye and saw her give the tiniest shake of her head. She looked bewildered and hurt by the suggestion.

‘Did anything you observed ever cause you to be suspicious of him?’ Jenny asked cautiously.

‘There was something last autumn, around the end of September,’ Helen Medway answered hesitantly, ‘though it may be wholly irrelevant . . .’

‘Go on,’ Jenny prompted.

‘My husband and I both spotted a car parked on the verge between the church and Ed and Kelly’s house. It appeared on about three or four occasions that we were aware of. Always on
weekends.’

‘How long was it there each time?’

‘It’s hard to say – an hour. Maybe more.’

‘And was there someone inside it?’

‘A man. He wore glasses and had dark hair. He appeared to be looking at their house.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘On the second occasion I noticed the car, I confess I became suspicious. I was in the churchyard when it drew up in the lane. I didn’t think the driver had seen me, so I watched him
for a short while. There was no one with him, and he definitely seemed to be observing intently.’

Jenny caught a glimpse of Kelly’s face. Her expression was of genuine puzzlement.

‘A while later I walked past the car returning to my house,’ Helen Medway continued. ‘I could have been imagining it, but the driver appeared to look away as I passed by, as if
he didn’t want me to see his face.’

‘You didn’t talk to him?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know what make of car it was?’

‘My husband saw it once or twice and thought it might be a Vauxhall. All I can tell you is that it was a dirty greenish colour and rather small.’

‘You didn’t make a note of the registration?’

‘No. I’ve probably made the whole thing sound rather more sinister than it was. For all I know he could simply have been waiting for someone. Perhaps even one of the
family.’

Another glance at Kelly told Jenny that wasn’t the case.

‘Do you know if they were home at the times when this vehicle appeared?’

‘As far as I recall, each time it was on a Saturday or a Sunday afternoon. There was usually someone home.’ Worried that she had overstepped the mark, Helen Medway backtracked
further, ‘Really, it may be nothing. I’ve no idea.’

‘Of course.’ Jenny gave a reassuring smile. ‘And have you seen the car or the man inside it since?’

‘No. No, I haven’t.’

‘If I can take you now to the night of the fire, can you please tell us what you saw or heard?’

‘Graham and I – that’s my husband – we were getting ready for bed. He was in the bathroom when I heard several bangs – two or three, I think. They sounded almost
like firecrackers or an exhaust backfiring. I thought it was probably something to do with Layla and her friends – it usually was.’

‘Did your husband hear them?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He usually had the radio on. It was so unremarkable I didn’t even bother to mention it. It was about ten or fifteen minutes later and we were already in
bed when we heard voices out on the common. Graham went to the window – that’s when he saw the flames coming from the house.’

‘And whose were the voices?’

‘About a dozen of our neighbours were already in front of the burning building, but the heat was so intense there was nothing anyone could do except wait for the fire brigade. It was
really quite horrendous. We both went out, but we were nothing more than helpless spectators.’

‘These bangs you heard – did they sound as if they had come from the burning house?’

‘I couldn’t say, but they were very loud, very sharp. But if it was gunshots we heard, I’d swear they were fired out in the lane, not inside the house.’

‘But you don’t know they were gunshots?’

‘No.’

‘So they could have been caused by the fire?’

‘Quite possibly.’

Jenny saw any prospect of Helen Medway’s evidence providing the revelation she was hoping for fall away. Instead, it had presented her with even more loose ends.

‘We know there were three gunshots fired inside the house, and in all likelihood they were several seconds apart. Could that have been what you heard?’

‘No, I don’t think so. These were very close together – hardly a second between them.’

Jenny nodded and offered the witness to the lawyers. All three shook their heads. Nothing she had said threatened to alter anything they had already heard.

Jenny thanked the priest for her help and told her she was free to go. She glanced at the clock. The morning was nearly at an end.

‘Before we rise for lunch, could we please hear briefly from Detective Sergeant Millard. There’s something I’d like to clarify.’

Millard shuffled out from his seat, looking decidedly put out to be called upon again.

‘You remain under oath,’ Jenny reminded him.

Millard gave a taciturn nod, exchanging a glance with Newland, whom Jenny sensed was warning him to be on his guard.

‘Officer, discounting the fact that Ed Morgan didn’t appear on your files, are you able to tell us if Mr Morgan had been the subject of any police interest in recent
months?’

‘He had not,’ Millard replied.

‘So you can be certain that whoever it was in the car we have just heard described, it wasn’t a police officer.’

‘Yes. He was not under investigation.’

Jenny studied him closely, but he had a face that was impossible to read.

‘To your knowledge, is there still a substantial reward on offer for information that would solve the Susie Ashton case?’

DS Millard glanced over to Philip Ashton who nodded in confirmation. ‘I believe there is.’