Bernard Knight - Where Death Delights

Angela took up this rather cryptic remark.

‘I presume it’s “Mrs” Davison? So why do you want to work here? I assume you’re local, as you saw the advert in the post office.’

Moira nodded. ‘I’m a neighbour, really. I live in the second house down, just around the bend between here and the village. I lost my husband three years ago and I’ve been rather withdrawn since then. But as I say, it’s time to pull myself together now and I felt this might the stimulus I’ve been waiting for.’

She sat primly on the hard chair, holding a cream handbag on her lap, with a pair of light gloves resting on top. Richard liked the fact that she had taken the trouble to dress and behave professionally when seeking a job, even though she lived virtually next door.

He explained the set-up at Garth House and their need for someone who would help both with the office work and with keeping the establishment afloat from the point of view of food and creature comforts.

‘Quite honestly, I’m not very domesticated,’ admitted Angela. ‘We can’t go on living out of tins and on fry-ups!’

‘I take it you can cook something better than that?’ added Richard, almost wistfully.

Mrs Davison gave another smile. ‘I think so, my mother was a very good cook and she taught me a lot. I managed to feed my late husband for a few years without him complaining!’

They both were reluctant to ask about her married life, but she seemed to sense this.

‘Keith was an industrial chemist, working in a factory in Lydney. Three years ago there was a explosion and he was killed.’

She seemed quite composed about the tragedy and went on to volunteer some more relevant information.

‘I was brought up in Chepstow and after leaving school, did a year in a secretarial college in Newport. Then I went to work in a solicitor’s office until we moved here about seven years ago, so I can type and do the usual office routines, like filing and simple accounting.’

Angela caught Richard’s eye and got a slight nod in reply. ‘Sounds just what we need,’ she said. ‘I know my partner is more concerned with his creature comforts, but your office skills would be welcome, especially as you used to work in a solicitor’s office.’

‘I know many of the lawyers in this area, from having to phone and write to them,’ agreed the brunette. ‘I’d love to have the chance of a trial period, if that would suit you.’

They got down to more details of just what they wanted her to do, the hours required and the salary. Richard called Sian back in to meet Moira and he could see from her covert amusement that she felt as he did about Angela’s hopelessly wrong forecast of what ‘the Scottish lady’ would be like.

‘We’ve also got another staff member,’ said Richard. ‘Mr Jenkins does the garden and odd jobs, but I expect you already know of him?’

Moira laughed. ‘Jimmy Jenkins? Everybody for miles knows Jimmy. I heard that he had attached himself to you, just as he did for your aunt. Jimmy’s fine, as long as you keep him on a short lead and don’t let him talk you into anything daft!’

They soon agreed on terms for a month’s trial, Moira coming from nine until four o’clock, five days a week.

‘I’ll make a cooked lunch every day, then put something ready for your supper,’ she suggested. ‘Weekends are a bit more difficult, but we’ll work something out.’

Moira saw no reason why she shouldn’t start next day and they gave her a quick tour of the house to get an idea what she was letting herself in for. Richard saw her to the front door and even offered to drive her home, but she said it was barely five minutes walk away.

‘Well what do think of that?’ he asked, when he came back to the others in the office.

‘Watch yourself, doctor, a pretty widow like that will wrap you round her little finger!’ warned Sian, with a grin. ‘But if she can type better than me, I’m all for it!’

He turned to Angela. ‘What about you, will she do?’

The biologist tapped her chin thoughtfully with a long forefinger.

‘She seems just what we need, but the proof of the pudding is in the eating – perhaps literally here. Let’s see how the first month goes.’

Privately, her instincts were rather similar to Sian’s. The woman was too damned good-looking for her liking, with such an impressionable fellow like Richard around. Though Angela had no designs whatever on her partner, there was an almost primeval hint of competition when a new attractive woman came on the scene.

Her ruminations were cut short by the telephone ringing again and after answering it, Sian returned to tell Pryor that the Lydney solicitor was on the line.

‘Doctor, I’ve had a talk with Trevor Mitchell,’ announced the dry voice of Edward Lethbridge. ‘He’s been up to Ledbury to see Mrs Barnes. In fact, he said he’s been back to the town to have a nose around and he thinks there’s possibly some grounds for doubting her positive identification of her husband’s remains.’

Richard was intrigued by Mitchell’s quick results.

‘How much doubt must there be before the coroner might consider an exhumation?’ he asked the lawyer. ‘Because without that, I can’t really do anything for you.’

‘We will need a lot more than Mitchell’s suspicions. I wanted to ask you if you think looking at Albert Barnes’s medical notes would be of any possible help?’

Richard frowned at the telephone. ‘I didn’t know he had any medical records. It’s the first I’ve heard of them.’

‘No, his wife saw fit to forget to mention them. He had an accident at work a few years ago, according to one of his friends that Mitchell tracked down in a Ledbury public house. He worked as a platelayer on the railway and was knocked down by a wagon during shunting. Nothing very serious, but enough to send him to Hereford County Hospital for a night.’

Pryor considered this for a moment.

‘I’m not sure what we might learn from them, depends on what injuries he had. But unless we look, we’ll never know.’

‘Exactly, but of course we’d need his wife’s consent to have a view of them.’

‘Would she give it, d’you think?’ asked Pryor.

‘She probably wouldn’t want to, but it would look fishy if she refused. Anyway, that’s my concern, I just wanted to know if you thought it worth the trouble.’

‘Yes, I’m sure it would be. But what did Trevor Mitchell find that raised these doubts?’

‘I think he’d better explain himself, Doctor. As you know, he lives not far from you and he suggested he called to talk to you about it later today.’

Things were certainly livening up, thought Richard, as he went back to the laboratory, where both women were now busy with their tasks. Angela was squatting on a stool in front of their fume cupboard, a big glass cabinet with a sliding door in the front like a sash window. An extractor fan sucked noxious fumes out through a vent into the old chimney, which was just as well, as she was carefully pouring concentrated nitric acid into a small beaker containing bits of lung from the Chepstow drowning. Evil yellow fumes were wreathing up towards the fan, which would become worse when she began heating the horrid mixture over a Bunsen burner.

Pryor stood behind her and told her of the call from Lethbridge.

‘Trevor Mitchell’s coming over sometime today. It’ll be good for you to meet him, he might well bring more trade our way.’

He wandered over towards Sian’s side of the room, where she had her chemical and analytical equipment.

Though what she was being asked to do in a forensic context was different to the hospital routines to which she had been accustomed, the techniques of handling materials and instruments were similar. With Angela’s help and a good selection of technical manuals on the shelf, they could get by for now, though anything complex would have to be sent away, down to the nearest Home Office Forensic Science laboratory in Cardiff or off to some specialist commercial outfit.