Thorn (23 page)

‘There had been a massive haemorrhage,' said John after a moment. ‘The body was covered in blood, and in places it had soaked into the bed. It was – I found it extremely distressing. I had known the lady, the whole family, very well for many years. That was why I did not make a full examination.'

‘You were personally involved?'

‘Yes.'

‘I believe I must ask if you were emotionally involved as well, Dr Shilling.'

‘No,' said John Shilling loudly. ‘No, I was not.' He saw the embarrassment on most of the jury's faces, and realised they all thought he had been Eloise's lover. What a sad irony. He said, ‘There was no involvement between us, other than that of friends.'

‘Very well. Please go on.'

‘The blood – the quantity of blood on the bed was consistent with self-mutilation.'

‘Such as cutting the wrists?'

‘No, more like stabbing.' Another deep breath. ‘I found a knife under her hand,' he said, firmly. ‘It was smeared with blood.'

‘Ah. But you did not examine for wounds?'

‘No. I . . .' Shilling paused, and wet his lips. ‘I thought it was fairly plain what she had done,' he said. ‘And so I made fictitious entries on the medical records consistent with symptoms of a stomach ulcer. And I gave the cause of death as a perforated stomach ulcer. In order to explain the blood. Several of the family had come into the room, you see.'

The coroner gave John Shilling a very level stare. ‘You do realise what you're admitting to?'

‘Yes.' Across the Rubicon and into the River of Jordan now, thought John Shilling. In fact neck deep. But the structure of the plan was holding so far.

‘Well, it isn't my concern,' said the coroner, rather testily. ‘But you'll have to answer to the GMC, you know. And probably the police, as well.'

‘I'm aware of that.'

‘All right, stand down, Dr Shilling. For the moment, anyway.'

Thalia came next, and gave her evidence briefly and concisely. Flora had the impression that Thalia was shutting her eyes so that nobody would see her, in the manner of a child.

Thalia said she had looked in on her cousin and his wife just before the funeral guests left, and explained that they had all been concerned about both Royston and Eloise.

‘Royston had had some kind of heart spasm. Dr Shilling had given him something for it.'

‘Propranolol,' said the coroner, flipping his notes back.

‘Yes, I think it was that.'

‘Because of the funeral presumably?'

‘Yes. We had all been very upset.'

‘Of course. Go on if you will, Mrs Caudle.'

Thalia said there had been a great deal of blood on the bed, and that Dr Shilling had told them that both Eloise and Royston were dead, Royston from a heart attack, Eloise from haemorrhage following the perforation of a stomach ulcer. They had all accepted this, and the funeral had taken place two days later. They had wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. ‘All the anguish in one lump,' said Thalia.

‘Did you know Dr Shilling had falsified the cause of death?'

‘No, of course not.'

‘You didn't – forgive me, Mrs Caudle, this must be very distressing for you – but did none of you question the abruptness of Eloise Ingram's death? Or ask Dr Shilling questions about it?'

Thalia looked at the coroner and then said, with a faint air of reproach, ‘With respect, you have to remember that we were all stunned. My son had just been killed in a car crash. He was nineteen. This all took place on the afternoon of his funeral. We were none of us in a fit state to reason or to think very clearly, other than to be profoundly grateful for Dr Shilling's help. He dealt with the formalities for us. We were punch-drunk with misery.' Flora noted that this was an extremely effective line, and then was cross with herself for suspecting Thalia of deliberately trying to create an effect. I might do it, thought Flora. And I daresay Juliette might do it as well. But it simply wouldn't occur to Thalia. Or would it? She's an odd creature at times. Secretive. Concentrate, old girl, here's the inspector.

Inspector Mackenzie had the air of an old hand at these affairs, and gave dry and deliberate evidence of the exhuming of the body ‘because of certain suspicious circumstances'. He said this with an air of finality, and was succeeded so swiftly by the forensic pathologist that the reporters barely had a chance to register the brevity of the policeman's explanation.

As the pathologist took the stand, the coroner and Inspector Mackenzie exchanged looks, because this was the part of the proceedings over which they had no control at all. The coroner thought that so far things had gone amazingly well, and that even Dr Shilling's unexpected admission had not really thrown things off course. Providing there were no other revelations to come from the pathologist, he could wind things up and direct the jury. At the moment it was touch and go whether the verdict would be death by misadventure or manslaughter against John Shilling. But the cause of death was still to be established.

The first really awkward moment came when the pathologist reported the presence of a near-lethal dose of chloral hydrate in the subject's stomach, which appeared to have been administered in brandy. This produced a stir of uneasy interest, and Juliette and Flora stared at one another in bewilderment.

Flora said, ‘But Eloise never drank brandy. She hated it.'

‘Then somebody must have given it to her.'

‘She wouldn't have drunk it.'

‘She might if she was heavily sedated.'

Two people from the back row, who, having managed to get into this exceedingly promising inquest, did not want to miss any denouement that might be going, both said ‘Shush' very sharply indeed, and George shunted further down the bench to disassociate himself as much as possible from his wife's embarrassing relatives.

The pathologist was explaining that alcohol together with chloral hydrate could produce extremely deep levels of coma, and then death. ‘There was the characteristic irritation of mucous membranes and skin,' he said. ‘It's impossible to know how long the coma state lasted, but it's probable that she passed from that into death.'

Juliette said, softly, ‘Oh, the old pet,' and George, who had been about to denounce the pathologist as a prattling old creeper, suspended judgement.

There had been no marks on the body indicative of suicide, said the pathologist, and Eloise Ingram had been in quite good health. He gave details of his findings, some of which were graphic and some of which were vaguely embarrassing, lost himself amid a welter of bone density and degeneration of fatty tissues, dwelled briefly on liver weight and kidney function, and confused several of his listeners by reference to an old appendicectomy scar.

Juliette remarked, not quite
sotto voce
, that one apparently got a far more thorough examination when one was dead than ever one did when alive.

‘And,' said the pathologist, emerging from a flurry of notes, ‘although I have heard the evidence of Mrs Caudle and Dr Shilling, I have to say that my examination showed that the cadaver had not suffered any significant blood loss.'

The journalists' pencils skidded across their notebooks all over again, and the coroner, with the feeling of seeing a hitherto unsuspected abyss open up at his feet, said, ‘None at all?'

‘No. I understand,' said the pathologist, whose name was Simcox, ‘that Dr Shilling believed massive haemorrhage from stab wounds to be the actual cause of death.'

‘But it was not?'

‘No. There were no wounds on the body,' said Simcox.

‘Then the cause of Eloise Ingram's death was the chloral hydrate?'

‘Almost certainly. Chloral hydrate isn't as strong as some of the more recent drugs in the narcotic or opiate range, but administered with alcohol and in sufficiently large quantity, it can be fatal. The analysis showed a sufficiently large presence of the drug to have caused death in this case.' He began to explain about dosages and quantitative analysis, and Juliette whispered to Flora, ‘But what about the blood?'

‘What about the blood?' said the coroner, as if in faithful echo of this.

‘Well,' said Mr Simcox, regarding the court solemnly, ‘I made a close examination of Eloise and Royston Ingram's bedroom.'

‘Yes?'

‘It had been very thoroughly cleaned up, but we did find traces of blood, minute but sufficient for analysis.'

‘But you've said she didn't die from loss of blood. And there were no wounds.'

‘That's correct. The blood wasn't human blood,' said Simcox. And then, with timing and delivery that would not have shamed Olivier, ‘It was beast blood,' he said.

There was a silence. The coroner took off his glasses and regarded Mr Simcox. ‘Could you repeat that, please. I don't think I can have heard properly.'

‘To be precise, it was sheep's blood,' said Simcox. ‘Not very fresh – it had been subjected to a freezing process.'

‘Let me get this clear,' said the coroner. ‘You're saying that the blood that Dr Shilling and Mrs Caudle saw on Eloise Ingram's body and on the bed was that of a sheep?'

‘Yes.'

‘And that it had been frozen?'

‘Yes. The picture that presents itself,' said Simcox, ‘is of a quantity of beast blood being obtained and—'

‘Mr Simcox, I wonder if you would mind not using that expression.'

‘What expression?'

‘Beast blood,' said the coroner, with force. ‘I don't doubt it is correct usage in pathology and forensic circles, but it conjures up the more gruesome types of horror fiction. And the gentlemen of the press are already devouring this tragedy with their customary tastelessness.'

‘Oh, I see. I'm sorry. Well, the – the blood was probably obtained from an abattoir under some pretext or other and stored in an ordinary domestic deep freeze.'

‘And then smeared on the body to make it appear that Eloise Ingram had slashed her wrists or been stabbed?'

‘That was our conclusion. Perhaps with the aim of implicating someone, or perhaps with the idea of covering up the real cause of death. Either of those or perhaps both of them. That's what it looked like. But it's not for me to say.'

‘No, but considering all the evidence, which we can now do—' The coroner broke off as the jury foreman held a hastily whispered colloquy with his fellows, and then hesitantly raised a hand. ‘Yes, Mr Foreman?'

‘I hope it's in order to interrupt at this stage, sir, but several of us would like to ask a question before you go any further.'

‘By all means.'

‘Does Mr Simcox have any suggestions as to what kind of reason you could give to get blood from an abattoir? Because nobody over here can think of a single one.'

‘A good question,' said the coroner. ‘Well, Mr Simcox?'

‘Oh, it isn't very difficult. You could say you were teaching a sixth-form class about analysing the properties of blood. Or you could say you were an amateur dramatic society putting on a play. Or even giving a first aid demonstration. It's quite difficult to fake blood convincingly, and it can be dreadfully messy to use ketchup or paint. It's far better to use beast—to use animal blood. I believe there's actually an abattoir near Covent Garden that supplies several of the theatres.
Grand Guignol
and Greek tragedy, you know,' added Simcox chattily.

Juliette was heard to murmur, ‘Just like we've got in front of us now.'

‘All right, Mr Foreman? That seems reasonable to me. Does it to you?'

‘Oh yes, thank you very much, sir. We hadn't thought of any of those.'

The helpful Mr Simcox was dismissed, and the coroner looked at the jury.

‘I expect,' he said, ‘that most of you were thinking this would be a case of death by misadventure. I thought so myself. But Mr Simcox's evidence makes a vast difference. There's no reason to doubt any of it, or indeed to doubt the ability of Mr Simcox or his team.' He paused, and then said, ‘Taking into acccount the bizarre fact of the animal blood on Eloise Ingram's bed and the presence of chloral hydrate in her body, there was certainly murderous intent, although as to the murderer's identity we can't say. That's a job for the police, and if you return a verdict of murder or manslaughter, they will begin their own investigations. Your job now is to weigh the evidence you have heard very carefully indeed and give us your verdict.' He paused, and then said, ‘But I do most strongly recommend that you cannot, in justice, return any other verdict than that of murder by person or persons unknown.'

Thalia, leaving the court with Flora and George and Juliette, thought that on balance things had not gone too badly. It was a wretched nuisance that the business with the blood and the chloral hydrate had come out, but she had been prepared for that. She was not in the least worried that suspicion would fall on her. She had obtained the blood anonymously – it had been ridiculously easy to get it from the large impersonal abattoir. She remembered how she had laughed in secret over her cleverness, and how satisfying it had been to set the scene in Eloise and Royston's bedroom that day. She had sprinkled the sheep's blood on to the bed, and the scent of it had mingled with the scent of triumph. It had been deeply and fiercely exciting.

She had been clever and cunning and she had covered her tracks completely. She would not be found out because everything she had done had been guided.

John Shilling would probably be charged with murder or manslaughter – Thalia was unclear as to the difference and it did not much matter – and it would be assumed that he had administered the chloral hydrate. Thalia did not think he would drag in the family, and even if he did, it would not do them much harm. They had not done anything criminal, Shilling had done the criminal part.

Really, she was managing everything very well indeed. She had had a fair amount of luck, of course, but on the whole it was all by her own efforts. The thought was a good thought, it was very nearly sexual in quality.