The Waxwork Corpse: A legal thriller with a chilling twist (Charles Holborne Legal Thrillers Book 5)

by Simon Michael

  ‘Hush, darling,’ he soothes, the unfamiliar endearment sounding wonderful to both of them. ‘It’s all going to be alright.’

  His words have an immediate calming effect. He is holding her, stroking her hair, his hot breath in her ear and suddenly the case against him seems unimportant. This, this is all that matters.

  ‘I’m so, so sorry!’ she manages. ‘I’m so, so sorry! I had no idea!’

  ‘No, really it’s all right!’

  ‘N-no … it’s not all right … I’ve done nothing but damage! I thought I was helping but … they said they were going to charge you with murder! I couldn’t let them do that! But I see now: I should’ve said nothing. Absolutely nothing! I was trying to help. Please forgive me.’

  He disengages from her but holds her fast by the upper arms, staring hard into her face.

  ‘Why?’ he demands. The intensity, the urgency in his voice, startle her.

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why couldn’t you let them do that?’

  ‘Don’t you know? How can you not know? Because I love you! I’ve loved you for years! Don’t tell me you didn’t know?’

  ‘No … yes … oh, yes!’ And he hugs her again and kisses her furiously on the cheeks, the eyes, the forehead, everywhere he can reach her skin. ‘I knew, I knew … I just … couldn’t allow myself to know.’

  ‘I don’t understand —’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now.’

  ‘But of course it matters! I’ve ruined everything!’

  ‘You haven’t. Believe me, you haven’t.’

  ‘What should I do tomorrow, then? Tell me. Should I refuse to give evidence?’

  ‘No. That’s why I’ve taken the risk of coming — I was so afraid you’d do something rash. Give your evidence exactly as it happened, understand? Just answer their questions honestly, plainly and simply.’ She nods. ‘I’m just sorry you got dragged into this at all. I should never have asked for your help.’

  She reaches for him and snuggles her head into the warm hollow between his neck and shoulder, her sobs subsiding. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she says. ‘You didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘But I miscalculated. I should’ve told the police the whole story as soon as I was questioned. I thought they’d charge you for helping me, so I denied the whole thing. I still can’t understand why they haven’t charged you but, thank God, they haven’t. But of course, now they can prove I was lying.’

  ‘What a mess!’

  ‘Yes, it is a mess. How are the children?’

  ‘Holding up. Stephen and Charlotte have both been down when they can manage it, and they’ll be there from tomorrow, until the end of the case. Stephen’s strong and silent, as always. Charlotte alternates between anger and tears, but she’ll be fine. I’m mostly worried about Bobby. He’s gone into his shell, and I can’t reach him. You know how sensitive he is.’

  Steele frowns with worry. ‘He’s such a sweet boy.’ He flicks a look at his watch. ‘I’m going to miss the last train back to London.’

  She draws back and holds his face tenderly between her hands. ‘Do you love me?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘I do love you. More than I can express.’

  ‘Then I can cope with anything. Even the worst.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Keep your voice up, speak slowly, look the jury right in the eyes, and you’ll be fine.’

  She smiles, for the first time in weeks. ‘Ever the lawyer.’

  ‘And don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me tonight, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  She waits for him to make a move but he doesn’t, so she leans forward and kisses him on his cold lips. It’s a short kiss, but in it is all the pent-up love and longing of fifteen years.

  ‘Worth waiting for,’ she says.

  CHAPTER 29

  Dr Butcher, forensic pathologist, gives his oath in a slow, deliberate, fashion, holding the Bible high over his head. Then he looks down at Charles and, without prompting, gives his name, professional address and qualifications. Charles leads him through his evidence, dealing with the deceased’s clothes, the state of her body and how long, in his view, she had been immersed in water. Then Charles turns to the cause of death.

  ‘As part of the post-mortem examination, did you examine the deceased’s internal organs?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Did you find anything of note?’

  ‘They were all substantially damaged by her long immersion in water and putrefaction. However, the temperature of the water had, unusually, caused their structure to be preserved. They tended to disintegrate on touch, but I was able to make quite a detailed examination.’

  The courtroom is completely silent, those in the public gallery leaning forward to catch every word.

  ‘What, if anything, did you find?’

  ‘There was no sign of injury or disease, certainly none that could have contributed to death.’

  ‘Were you able to analyse the stomach contents?’

  ‘No. They were too damaged by putrefaction. But had she taken drugs, for example, there would have been other signs, and there were none.’

  ‘Were there any signs of injury to the body?’

  ‘There were no lesions.’ Dr Butcher turns to the jury. ‘No cuts or lacerations,’ he explains for their benefit.

  Charles follows the pathologist’s gaze to the six men and six women in the jury box. They are riveted to the evidence, three of them taking notes.

  ‘Any broken bones?’ he asks.

  ‘None.’

  ‘Did you find anything therefore that can throw any light on the cause of death?’

  ‘Yes, one thing. There were two areas of discolouration of the flesh, one on the left side of the forehead and one on the left side of the hyoid bone. The first one was about here.’

  He indicates by pressing a finger to his own forehead and, while holding the pose, angles himself first to show the Recorder and then the jury.

  ‘And the second was about here.’

  This time he indicates a point to the left of his voice box.

  ‘Thank you,’ says the Recorder, making a note and a quick sketch of the places indicated.

  ‘What does that discolouration mean?’ asks Charles.

  ‘It does not necessarily mean anything. What it suggests, is bruising at those points. The discolouration was beneath the skin, and wouldn’t have been visible on the surface. When someone is bruised, tiny blood vessels under the skin are ruptured. A small amount of blood leaks into the tissues. Normally, the body’s repair mechanisms cause it to disperse in a few days or weeks. But if the person dies, that process does not occur. What I found were small deposits of haematoidin, one of the breakdown products of blood. It’s brown in colour and crystalline in nature.’

  ‘Would such bruising suggest blows sufficient to cause death?’

  ‘Well, the bruise to the forehead would not have caused death. It would have been quite minor. The bruise to the left of the hyoid bone is more significant. It is consistent with strangulation.’

  Charles pauses long enough for the answer to sink in. ‘Bearing in mind all your findings, what, in your opinion, was the cause of death?’

  ‘Manual strangulation.’

  ‘Thank you, doctor. Please wait there.’

  Charles sits. This time Beaverbrook stands and spends thirty long seconds arranging his notes on the lectern in front of him. The tension grows as the jury and the gallery appreciate that at last they are going to hear some contested evidence.

  ‘Now, doctor,’ he begins, his weighty, rounded tones booming across the court. ‘No disease, and no illness?’

  ‘None that I could identify.’

  ‘No broken bones?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘No cuts or lacerations?’

  ‘Not that I could find.’

  ‘And you looked carefully?’

  ‘Of course. You must understand, however, that when a body has been in the water th
at long, even if, like this one, it is in a remarkable state of preservation, putrefaction has set in. That makes it impossible to be certain. All I can say is that I found no wounds that could have contributed to death. There may have been small lacerations which would have been impossible to identify with any certainty after this length of time.’

  ‘I understand. Thank you. So there might have been a small cut to, for example, an eyebrow.’

  ‘That is perfectly possible.’

  ‘Can a person bleed after death?’

  Dr Butcher frowns and shrugs. ‘Of course. Just as with any carcass, gravity will work to drain the blood out.’

  ‘So, in simple terms, if I cut a vein in your foot which does not kill you, and then I kill you by shooting you in the head, were I able to keep you upright, all your blood would drain out of the wound in your foot?’

  ‘Very likely.’

  ‘So, if the deceased had a cut, say on her eyebrow, and that part of her body just happened to be at the lowest point following her death, she could lose a lot of blood through it, even if her heart had stopped beating. Is that correct?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Thank you. Let us move to the marks on the forehead and neck. Are these definitely bruises in your opinion?’

  ‘I would say that they are very likely indeed to have been bruises.’

  ‘But not definite bruises?’

  ‘Nothing is ever definite, particularly after so long.’

  Beaverbrook pauses, surveying the members of the jury one by one. With his eyes fixed on the last member, a bulky man in a suit a size too small for him, he asks, ‘How much force does it take to strangle someone with one’s hands?’

  ‘Usually considerable force. One has to close off the windpipe.’

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘That will depend on the extent to which the victim struggles. The more they struggle, the more oxygen they use up. Also, it would depend on how fit they were, whether they had taken alcohol, whether the obstruction to the windpipe was complete or incomplete, many factors.’

  ‘Shall we assume that most people when being strangled will struggle?’

  ‘That is a fair assumption if the person, the victim, is conscious. It is of course perfectly possible to strangle someone who is unconscious.’

  ‘Let us also assume that no alcohol was taken, as there is no evidence of the deceased being drunk before her disappearance, and she drove to the house without accident. Let us also assume that, as a young woman of slim build, she was fairly fit. How long in those circumstances?’

  ‘It’s difficult to be precise. There are few witnessed incidents as you can imagine. However, Taylor’s Jurisprudence, which is one of the standard texts, would suggest up to a minute or so for unconsciousness, and perhaps a further minute to two minutes for death to result thereafter — assuming that the pressure is continued, of course.’

  ‘So, say three minutes during which the pressure on the windpipe has to be maintained?’ persists Beaverbrook.

  ‘Yes. It might be less, however.’

  ‘It is almost certain that in such circumstances, severe pressure being applied for two to three minutes, one would find bruises on the windpipe, in the region of the hyoid bone.’

  ‘It is. In many cases the hyoid bone is broken. It is quite fragile.’

  ‘Would it be possible to strangle someone with one hand?’

  The pathologist considers this for a moment, his eyes turning towards the vaulted ceiling as he imagines the mechanisms involved. ‘Yes, it would, but it would be unusual. The hands of the strangler would have to be very large, or the neck of the victim unusually thin. Even then, I imagine it would be difficult to maintain the grip.’

  ‘Did the deceased have an unusually thin neck?’

  ‘No. In fact, she was sturdily built.’

  ‘Have you seen the defendant’s hands? Are they what you would call “very large”?’

  Dr Butcher peers over the edge of the witness box. He turns to the Recorder. ‘May I go to the dock to have a closer look?’

  ‘You may.’

  Two hundred or more eyes follow Dr Butcher’s progress from the witness box to the dock. He takes Steele’s right hand in his and examines it carefully, turning it over, looking at the fingers and feeling its strength. He thanks the judge quietly and returns to the witness box.

  ‘The accused is a tall man, but he has very fine hands, quite narrow and not particularly strong. I think he’d have had great difficulty in strangling the deceased with one hand.’

  ‘So, if he strangled the deceased, he’d have had to have used both hands.’

  ‘Very likely.’

  ‘And that would have broken the hyoid bone?’

  ‘Not “would”; might.’

  ‘But there would have been bruises on both sides of the windpipe.’

  ‘Almost certainly.’

  ‘Whereas here there was one possible bruise, on one side only.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  Beaverbrook’s tone changes, and it seems as if he is moving to another subject. ‘Now, doctor, when someone is strangled, there are often other tell-tale signs, are there not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Such as petechial haemorrhages, protrusion of the tongue, cyanosis, intense venous congestion … have I missed any?’

  ‘Bruising of the deeper tissues of the neck, prominence of the eyes, marks on the skin, from fingernails, perhaps.’

  ‘I shall not ask you to explain all of these. I have a simple question: were any of them present in this case?’

  ‘Some would not necessarily have been visible after the length of time —’

  ‘Were any present that might have been visible after the time spent by the deceased in the water?’

  Dr Butcher answers a shade reluctantly. ‘No.’

  ‘There were no such signs at all?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, we have no signs of strangulation except one possible bruise on one side of the neck only.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Beaverbrook pauses to let that sink in. ‘As a result of the points I have put to you, do you not agree that your diagnosis of cause of death, “Manual Strangulation”, might be wrong?’

  ‘It is not certain that that was the cause of death, I accept.’

  ‘Not only was it not a certain cause of death; I suggest to you that it was not even a likely one.’

  ‘I still think that it was the most likely cause. No other cause could be identified.’

  “‘Most likely”?’ For the first time, Beaverbrook’s tone changes to one approaching scorn. ‘This jury has to decide how the deceased met her death so that they are sure. Sure! How can they be sure she was strangled on the basis of “most likely”?’

  ‘Well, something killed her.’

  ‘But that’s irrelevant! What’s relevant for the jury is whether or not the Crown can establish beyond reasonable doubt what caused her death and that this man was responsible for it.’

  Beaverbrook points dramatically across the courtroom to his client. Steele sits upright in the dock, his face calm, as if listening to an interesting debate between two experts in a trial he is hearing. Dr Butcher’s round face pinks at the reprimand.

  ‘So, let me rephrase the question, doctor: are you personally sure beyond reasonable doubt that this woman was strangled?’

  ‘No. I’m not. Of the various possibilities that is the most likely, but I cannot say I am sure.’

  ‘Thank you. The fact is, there were no clear, obvious signs to point to the cause of death at all, were there? The high-water mark of your evidence is that, of all the possibilities, strangulation is the most likely, but even that is not very likely.’

  ‘Well, it is the most likely of all the possibilities.’

  ‘What is “vagal inhibition”?’

  Dr Butcher looks slightly startled at the apparent change of tack. ‘It’s … it’s an inhibition of the vagal nerve.’

  ‘Where i
s the vagal nerve?’

  ‘In the neck.’

  ‘To be precise, it is in the neck, almost exactly where you found the discolouration, is it not?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Vagal inhibition can cause death, can it not?’

  ‘It can, in unusual circumstances.’

  ‘What are those circumstances?’

  ‘A blow or, more likely, pressure would have to be applied to exactly the right spot.’

  ‘And would such pressure need to be applied for long?’

  ‘That would depend. There are cases in which only fleeting pressure has resulted in death.’

  ‘Fleeting?’

  ‘A second or so.’

  ‘Could a single blow do it?’

  ‘If it was an extremely lucky one.’

  ‘Or an extremely unlucky one.’

  ‘Er, yes … that’s what I mean.’

  ‘Thank you, doctor. I have no further questions.’

  There’s a communal exhalation of breath as Beaverbrook resumes his seat. Charles silently congratulates the Queen’s Counsel for keeping the smugness out of his expression. Charles weighs up whether or not to re-examine. He might be able to repair some of the damage, but the risk is he’ll make it worse by emphasising it. Beaverbrook has undermined the Crown’s theory of cause of death, probably fatally. Furthermore, Charles reminds himself, he is prosecuting, and as a prosecutor he has a duty to assist in getting at the truth, not strive for a conviction. It’s not his job to make the pathologist sound sure when he isn’t.

  He rises. ‘Thank you, doctor. Does your Lordship have any questions?’

  ‘No, thank you. Dr Butcher may be released, unless there are objections?’

  Both barristers shake their heads.

  ‘Thank you, doctor,’ says Charles to the pathologist, who steps out of the witness box. Charles looks down at his notes. Here we go, he thinks; everything now turns on this last card.

  ‘Miss Jennifer Sullivan, please,’ he says.

  All eyes turn to the door as Jenny’s name is called outside. There’s a short delay, the door opens again and she enters the courtroom. She keeps her eyes lowered as she passes the packed reporters’ bench, the solicitors and finally the barristers. She climbs the three steps into the witness box.