‘Eccles! Eccles! Are you in there?’
Eccles leapt to his feet and looked down through the open window. ‘Oh Christ, sorry I’m late.’
‘Too bloody right, you are,’ said Sinclair, the stroke of the second VIII who had frantically peddled up from the boathouses.
‘What in God’s name were you doing?’
Eccles had the good sense to know that reading a book was not an acceptable excuse for being late amongst rowers.
‘It’s a long story,’ he said.
*
Augustus Bloom grabbed his bicycle and headed off down St Aldgate’s to the Isis. He had missed the lower divisions who race frst, but still hoped to get the second and frst division races. Eccles and the second VIII were racing in division two, but if they bumped up today could reach the frst division. The trouble Eccles had caused couldn’t dent Bloom’s support for any college boat. He made for the towpath on the far side, away from most of the spectators who fooded in across Christchurch Meadow. The towpath was by far the most interesting side of the river for rowing enthusiasts. From there you could see the start and follow the whole race if you were brave enough to cycle at breakneck speed along the towpath.
Bloom was still cycling up towards the narrowest part of the course, the gut, when he heard the gun announcing the start. Upriver, the coxes released the wooden blocks on ropes that held the boats in position in the anxious minutes before the start. The once-still waters were churned by brightly painted blades as the boats jerked into motion. He turned his bicycle and waited with his pedals poised for a fast take-off. Within seconds he was engulfed in noise as the Worcester frst VIII came past a good two lengths ahead of St Jerome’s second VIII. St Jerome’s in turn were barely a canvas ahead of the chas-ing boat, Christchurch’s frst VIII. Bloom took off as fast as he could as the boats drew level, but he could only keep up with them for a few seconds before he was overtaken by bicycles ridden by students with far less concern for their own safety or for the safety of others. Forced to a halt, he watched the crews down the wide straight section of the river that led towards the fnish, knowing the pain of every stroke from the memories of his own undergraduate races.
St Jerome’s rowed over, not quite victorious but undefeated on the day and the highest positioned second VIII on the river. Eccles lay slumped over his oar, his wind-pipe laid raw by the implausible volume of air his body had demanded during the race and his legs burning.
‘Jerome, Jerome, Jerome… ’ The chant grew louder and louder from supporters on the banks. Sinclair took up the chant from the stroke’s seat and the chant’s primal en-thusiasm swept away the pain as the entire crew joined in. Overtaken by a transcendent happiness and possibly a shortage of oxygen to the brain, Eccles saw an image of the boat from above and instantly knew this was the high point of his existence. Into his mind came the image of the Duke of Dorset, straight from the pages of Zuleika Dobson , looking upwards towards the light from the bottom of the river. Eccles unstrapped the buckles that fxed his shoes to the boat and slowly raised himself up until he was stand-ing poised for his grand gesture. This is by no means a simple feat in a boat designed for maximal speed and minimal stability. ‘Gentlemen, St Jerome’s… ’ with those words Eccles was launched head frst into the Isis by a sudden lurch of the boat. He had hoped for a longer speech, but these simple words had a galvanising effect on the crew. One by one they leapt into the water shouting their college’s name. Instinct, natural buoyancy and the sobering effects of cold water all served to ensure that Eccles was the frst to resurface, his attempt at a noble sacrifce now looking like no more than high spirits.
In the fnal race of the day, St Jerome’s frst VIII crossed the line victorious as the head of the river for the frst time in over half a century. The St Jerome’s boathouse erup-ted in a tumultuous scene of celebration. The recently disembarked second VIII watch-ing from the pontoon and while still dripping, led the chant once again.
‘Jerome, Jerome, Jerome… ’
On the balcony of the boathouse, Kingsley-Hampton looked down in contempt at his former roommate Eccles, who was at that moment being carried lengthways on the shoulders of his crew.
Chapter 37
Augustus stood in the small alcove in his rooms preparing tea. His heart was leaping in his chest and he struggled to steady his hand.
‘Do you take sugar in your tea, inspector?’
‘No thank you, Dr Bloom, just a drop of milk.’
It had been several weeks since the police had called on Mr Potts. With each passing day, the threat of any action had seemed to wane and Augustus had no longer felt the need to cross the street when he saw a policeman. Theodore had managed to convince both himself and Augustus that they had done nothing illegal, but in the interests of not attract-ing unwanted attention had advised against attempting to clarify matters with the police. Mr Potts had used his contacts to discover that the mortuary attendant Mr Hogarth was being held on remand in Oxford gaol, making it unlikely that the potential witness was held in high regard. It was therefore a true shock for Augustus to fnd Detective Inspector Granger waiting for him in the lodge when he returned one evening from the laboratory.
‘Very sorry for dropping in on you unannounced, Dr Bloom,’ said the inspector, sip-ping his tea. ‘I thought you might prefer an informal chat rather than being brought down to the station for questioning.’
‘Very thoughtful of you, inspector. So how can I help you?’ ‘We’ve been investigating certain discrepancies relating to the death of a friend of
yours, Professor Arthur Plantagenet. I understand from the crematorium that you are his executor and it was yourself that received his ashes. Is that correct?’
‘I am one of his executors. Is there a problem inspector?’ ‘Could you tell me where Professor Plantagenet’s remains are at this moment?’ Augustus looked up at the mantelpiece in silence. ‘Dr Bloom?’
Augustus stood up and walked over to the small urn. ‘Here they are, inspector. Do you wish to inspect them?’ ‘If I may?’ Much to Augustus’ surprise the inspector took the urn and opened it to in-
spect the contents.
‘I understand that Arthur Plantagenet was… not a small man,’ said the inspector. ‘This urn doesn’t seem to contain enough ashes.’
‘He had varied requests about where his ashes should be distributed and we have partly met those wishes, so some of his ashes have already been deposited in their fnal resting place. He has also requested that some be spread in locations overseas. We haven’t had time to meet that request.’
‘So originally this urn held all his remains?’
‘That’s right,’ said Augustus. He had intended to explain about the will but the words had left his mouth before his conscious mind could stop them.
‘So his entire body was cremated?’ The inspector looked directly at Augustus and smiled.
‘I… believe so.’
‘Quite. Now my problem, Dr Bloom, is that I have a statement from a mortuary at-tendant that Professor Plantagenet’s leg was removed and dispatched to you before his cremation. What do you say to that?’
‘Oh,’ said Augustus.
‘Oh indeed. Now perhaps you could explain this extraordinary turn of events.’ Augustus took a moment to gather his thoughts and then in a wavering voice began
his confession.
‘Arthur’s leg was delivered to me, but not by my choice. The whole thing with the mortuary was apparently arranged by Arthur before his death. Until the leg was de-livered to me, I had no knowledge of what was going on. It’s all part of Arthur’s rather eccentric will.’
‘And what, dare I ask, does this will require you to do with the professor ’s leg?’ ‘He had his own private wishes.’
‘Dr Bloom, if you are just complying with your duties as executor of Professor Plant-agenet’s will, then why not share the details with me and we can have this matter all cleared up in no time.’
‘Am I accused of committing a crime, insp
ector?’ ‘Not yet,’ said the inspector, showing the frst signs of irritation. ‘But at the very
least we could charge you with handling stolen property. There are also laws regarding the proper disposal of human bodies, which you are clearly fouting. I don’t suppose it would impress the university authorities or indeed the medical council if you were con-victed of grave-robbing?’
‘I see,’ said Augustus almost inaudibly.
‘Well then, we have fnally made some progress. I will need to have you down at St Aldgate’s police station at noon tomorrow for formal questioning under caution. That gives you a little time to refect on your position concerning the secretive will of Arthur Plantagenet. We will take your statement then. Can I rely on your attendance without the need to send one of my constables?’
Augustus nodded his assent. ‘I presume I can bring along a solicitor?’ ‘Under the circumstances, that would be very wise, Dr Bloom.’
*
‘Good morning, Gentlemen,’ said Mr Barringer. ‘Please take a seat. I hope you will be able to maintain more dignity than you managed last time you were in my offce for the reading of Professor Plantagenet’s will.’
‘I do apologise for that. I’m not sure what came over us,’ said Theodore. ‘Sorry,’ mumbled Augustus.
‘Apologies accepted. Now I had indicated that I couldn’t assist any further in relation to this most bizarre will, but I understand something rather pressing has come up?’
‘Indeed,’ said Theodore, as Augustus sat back in his chair looking thoroughly wretched, clearly not intending to take much part in proceedings. ‘As I mentioned on the phone this morning, Augustus is due down at St Aldgate’s police station in less than two hours. Inspector Granger has made some veiled threats to Augustus in relation to Arthur Plantagenet’s will.’
‘Inspector Granger. Dear old Cornelius. I was at college with him many years ago. How is he these days?’ asked Mr Barringer.
‘Rather aggressive, quite frankly,’ replied Augustus. ‘He more or less accused me of grave-robbing.’
‘Good God, please tell me you didn’t actually dig up Arthur’s grave?’ Mr Barringer brought both hands over his face and directed the question at Augustus through his fn-gers. Theodore nobly interceded on Augustus’ behalf.
‘Of course he didn’t. Arthur left Augustus specifc instructions for his body to be cremated and we thought that would be the end of it.’
‘And why wasn’t it?’ asked Mr Barringer, reassured but clearly perplexed. ‘He was cremated, but it turns out Arthur also left instructions for his left leg to be
removed by one of the workers at the hospital mortuary before the rest of his body was released to the crematorium. It was the mortuary attendant who told the police.’
Mr Barringer reclined back in his chair, his face fxed in a thoughtful frown. This scene was soon replaced by a view of Mr Barringer’s bald patch as he swivelled in his chair to face the window.
‘What happened to the leg after it was removed?’ said Mr Barringer to the win-dowpanes.
‘It was delivered to Augustus at his laboratory, packed in ice.’ Mr Barringer suddenly turned to face Augustus again. This time it was clear he
wished Augustus himself to answer.
‘And what did you do with it, Dr Bloom?’
‘Oh… well… exactly what Arthur had instructed,’ replied Augustus. ‘You don’t mean you actually cooked it and… ’ ‘Oh no, no,’ Augustus reassured him. ‘No. It was moved back to college… for safe-
keeping.’
‘And it’s still there?’ asked Mr Barringer.
Augustus merely nodded. An oppressive silence then fell upon the room. Distant sounds from the street outside seemed suddenly amplifed. Augustus looked at the ground. Theodore gazed at Mr Barringer, who in turn stared at the bookcase at the back of the room. Meanwhile the large grandfather clock ground out each tick as if it were its last. Mr Barringer fnally broke the tension. With impressive agility for a man approach-ing sixty years of age, he leapt to his feet and made directly for the book he had spotted. A small red cloth-bound volume with gilt lettering edited by William Roughead on the trial of Burke and Hare, the notorious Edinburgh grave-robbers of the eighteenth cen-tury. He fipped through until he seemed to fnd what he was looking for.
‘Now, what exactly did the inspector threaten you with, Dr Bloom?’ ‘He mentioned charging me with handling stolen property frst. To be honest, I think
the threats about grave-robbing were more to rattle me,’ said Augustus. ‘Well, he seems to have succeeded in that at least. You say the leg was delivered in
ice, entirely unclothed?’
‘Yes,’ said Augustus, baffed at the line of questioning. ‘Well that puts paid to any question of stolen property,’ said Barringer emphatically.
‘Under common law no-one owns a dead body. Now where is that passage?’ Barringer’s fnger ran down the page. ‘Ah, yes. The only lawful possessor of the dead body is the earth. So if no-one owns a body, one can’t by defnition steal one.’
‘Excellent, that’s exactly what I’d told Augustus,’ said Theodore, springing to his feet and starting to pace the foor. ‘But what about this grave-robbing threat?’
‘For the same reason grave-robbing is not a crime unless possessions of the dead are removed such as jewellery. Burke and Hare were convicted of murder, not robbing graves. They introduced an act after that infamous case to regulate the use of bodies for anatomy, but that was not what the professor had in mind, as I understand from his will.’
‘Indeed not,’ said Theodore quietly.
Mr Barringer’s well-endowed eyebrows elevated in silent comment. He then replaced the book on Burke and Hare and ran his fngers along the spines of a large series of volumes, Halsbury’s Statutes of England and Wales. He pulled out a volume and brought it back to his desk.
‘In relation to the use of this limb, that should fall under the Human Tissues Act 1961. Now let’s see what that says.’ Barringer busied himself in locating this particular Act of Parliament while Theodore and Augustus sat in impressed but anxious silence.
‘Yes, here we go. If any person, either in writing at any time or orally in the presence of two or more witnesses during his last illness has expressed a request that his body or any specifed part of his body be used after his death for therapeutic purposes or for purposes of medical education or research, the person lawfully in possession of his body after his death may, unless he has reason to believe the request was subsequently with-drawn, authorise the removal from the body of any part or, as the case may be, the spe-cifed part, for use in accordance with the request . It is clear from his will that Professor Plantagenet intended his leg to be used for… research, so this act seems to provide a leg-al basis for your actions. Provided of course that the professor hadn’t changed his mind since signing his will.’
‘Defnitely not. He even announced it at dinner the night before he died,’ said Augus-tus.
‘Good. So we have some witnesses. Any relatives who might object?’ said Barringer as he read on.
‘Both his parents have defnitely passed away and I’m almost certain he has no broth-ers or sisters,’ said Augustus.
‘Well, there is your defence,’ said Barringer, sitting back triumphantly. ‘Really? So we’ve nothing to worry about legally?’ ‘Oh there’s plenty to worry about. I can’t guarantee Inspector Granger won’t try and
charge you. After all, it’s not for the police to determine if you are guilty, that is for the courts. He just needs to have evidence that suggests you may have committed a crime. What evidence does he have?’
‘The evidence of the mortuary assistant who removed the leg,’ said Augustus. ‘Oh, and possibly the letter from Arthur himself asking for the leg to be delivered to me.’
‘Oh,’ Mr Barringer sat back, his lips frozen into the pursed shape they fell into at the end of that ominous comment.
‘So the facts are clear. It will just come down to the question of whe
ther what you have done in accepting this… object… and what has happened since, has broken any laws.’
‘But you just said everything was fne on the basis of that 1961 Act?’ Theodore burst in.
‘As an academic exercise I am confdent that, distasteful as this whole situation is, you have perfectly good grounds for your actions. But Inspector Granger might have a different viewpoint, so be careful.’
Mr Barringer rose to his feet, clearly indicating the meeting was coming to an end. ‘Unfortunately I won’t be able to come with you to the police station. Mind you, as the inspector and I have some… history… my presence might prove counterproductive any-way.’
‘Of course, I quite understand,’ said Theodore. ‘I can handle this myself. Would you have a pen and paper? I wouldn’t mind jotting down those points. It was the 1961 Hu-man Tissue Act, wasn’t it?’
*
On arrival at St Aldgate’s police station, Augustus and Theodore were shown into one of the interview rooms. Inspector Granger made a point of leaving them a good half hour to ‘stew in their own juices’ as he was wont to say. Before entering he looked in through the small, reinforced glass window and was surprised to the see the two men chatting away and not looking as stressed as he’d hoped to fnd them.
The Reluctant Cannibals Page 28
