“In the recent case I’d estimate the bath to be five to five-and-a-half feet. The deceased was about five nine, maybe a little taller. Slim build – I guess about one sixty. I don’t have those details for the other case. They’re probably in the papers somewhere but I haven’t looked at that – is it important?”
“One more question,” Jill said. “Was the foot of the bathtub against the wall, or was there room for a person to stand in that position?”
“I can’t answer that in relation to the first case without looking at the crime-scene photographs again. In the other case the tub – it was one of those Victorian replicas on fancy legs – was in the middle of the bathroom.”
I looked up and saw that Jill was smiling. “There’s a theory that might solve this puzzle for you,” she said.
Chapter Thirty Three
Sudden Death
“Exactly a hundred years ago a man named George Joseph Smith was hanged in England for the murder of his wife, who had apparently accidentally drowned in her bath,” Jill said. “During his trial it was disclosed that she was the third of his wives who had died in this way. At the inquest into the first of these deaths the jury had returned a verdict that she’d drowned accidentally after suffering a fit. But by the third death the police were sure that she, like the others, had been murdered. There was no direct evidence that Smith had been physically present in any of the cases – he’d carefully concocted alibis for himself. In each case he said that his wife was taking a bath and he later discovered that she had died. But as Oscar Wilde wrote, ‘To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune, to lose both looks like carelessness’. Well, to lose three wives in a strikingly similar way seemed downright sinister.
“The problem for the prosecution was that there was no explanation as to how Smith had accomplished these murders without leaving any marks on the body indicating a struggle or fierce resistance. The answer was provided by a Dr. Spilsbury, a celebrated pathologist and expert witness for the prosecution in a number of high profile cases of the time. He postulated that Smith had sharply pulled the ankles of the victims resulting in the sudden immersion of the head under the water. That, he said, would cause an instant loss of consciousness. Thereafter it would be a simple exercise for Smith to have held the victims’ heads under the water, suffocating them by drowning. In such a case, the victim already being unconscious, a relatively small amount of water would be subsequently found in the airways. Moreover, there would be an absence of any marks on the body indicating that a struggle had taken place.
“His theory was actually put to the test during the trial. The jury were taken to a private room where a bathtub was filled with water and a volunteer, in a bathing suit, who was a fit and healthy professional athlete, duly stepped in and reclined, as one does when taking a bath. Dr. Spilsbury promptly pulled her legs by the ankles and the water rushed up her nose and into her mouth causing immediate unconsciousness. It was so effective she had to be revived by artificial resuscitation which, I may add, took more than half an hour.”
Lucy and I sat spellbound as Jill continued.
“Modern research has shown that a sudden rushing of water down the throat can put pressure on the vagus, one of the main nerves in the neck, causing a rapid slowing down of the heart rate and an instant faint. If that person was then held under the water then he or she would suffocate − death by drowning results from suffocation − and if the person was already unconscious their breathing would be shallow, so there’d be relatively little water found in the lungs or airways during a subsequent autopsy. Other research suggests that water suddenly entering the trachea can cause what’s known as ‘reflex cardiac arrest’ resulting in death. Such a condition wouldn’t show up in a subsequent autopsy, but a careful examination of the body can indicate that death was sudden and instantaneous – for example the flesh in such cases often has a goose-skin appearance. So even if it’s not possible to conclude how the person died it’s often possible to be sure that death was instantaneous or rapid.”
“That would explain something else,” I said. “It seems that the lady was well-known to her victims and may even have slept with them. In such a case the victim would probably think nothing of her presence in the bathroom whilst he lay naked in the tub. In fact it’s likely in the present case that she’d brought him a whisky from the kitchen and he was drinking it when he was attacked. And it might explain something else too. There was a substantial amount of water on the floor. The motion you’ve described would have made a wave of water that would probably have washed over the sides or ends of the tub.”
“All I can say is that it’s a possible explanation, in the absence of any other likely cause.”
“Jill you’ve been amazingly helpful, as usual. You may be asked by the prosecution to give assistance as an expert in this case in due course. You know the DA’s department holds you in high esteem.”
“I’m always happy to help,” she said, “you know that. What do you want me to do with the other results? The male DNA from the coffee cup?”
“You’d better keep them on file for the time being,” I said. “I’ll let you know if and when I want them.”
As Lucy and I headed home, armed with Jill’s report, I was in high spirits. A DNA match would be enough to arrest Barbara in connection with the cold case, at least for the purpose of interviewing her. It should also give a kick up the butt to the police forensics boys to speed up their examination of the present crime scene. Of course, I couldn’t reveal that I’d got hold of Barbara’s DNA sample. The police would have to devise a way of getting their own, since it was unlikely that she’d consent. But with her in the hospital I didn’t expect that to pose much difficulty. I needed to call Calley, and as soon as I got home I did.
“I think I know how Delmar was killed,” I said. “And I’m pretty sure I know who did it. I have a DNA match for the cold case crime scene too. Obviously I can’t disclose that, but it will be enough for the police to move on.”
“Geez, you’ve been busy, how…”
“Duke’s, this afternoon,” I said. “When can you make it?”
“Say three?”
“No, let’s say four. And you can use the time to get me a copy of the autopsy report on Delmar and chase up the crime lab. See if the lab has processed any prints they lifted from the crime scene, too.”
*
Unusually, on this occasion I actually got to the bar before Calley. He turned up about fifteen minutes later. We ordered some beers.
“Go ahead, shoot,” he said.
“You first, Lance. Did you get me a copy of the autopsy report?” Lance handed it over.
“How about the prints and DNA examination from the scene?”
“Soon,” he said. “Probably Monday − at least the prints.”
“Okay. There’s a woman in Boston Medical being treated for a subdural hematoma. The doctor in charge of her case is called Sanjit – nice guy. I managed to get a sample from her for DNA testing – don’t even ask; you got this information from an informant you’re not at liberty to disclose – and it matches the female DNA from the crime scene in the cold case. I don’t know where she lives, but I know where she’s been staying since the murder. A search warrant of those premises will turn up some of Delmar’s personal effects. The woman’s name is Barbara Green.” A spark of recognition showed in Calley’s hooded eyes.
“Yeah,” I said, “the woman I asked you to check on before.”
“How can we get a warrant before we’ve done a DNA on her? Why don’t you tell me who you got the test results from? We can subpoena them and get the goods on the DNA that way”
“Because one, the scientist who did the comparison for me doesn’t know who the sample came from, and two because if you start trying to subpoena a scientist who’s given valuable evidence for the prosecution in a number of cases you’ll have the DA jumping down your throat. Look, that’s why I need the prints; if Barbara’s prin
ts were in Delmar’s apartment you’ll have enough probable cause to get the warrant.”
Calley looked at me uncertainly. “Lance this is your big chance − your chance to get the credit for solving two homicides,” I said. “Don’t screw up.”
As I drove home I felt a bit like Jesus must have felt when He ascended into heaven. If His disciples let him down, he had no plan B.
Chapter Thirty Four
The Letter
It was my day, my week; everything was coming together. When I got home I had a call from Tony with some more good news.
“He called me,” Tony said.
“Who called you?”
“Withers. He’d been given my card. He called to enquire about the package.”
“So he’s back? What did you tell him?”
“Well it wasn’t what I told him so much as what he told me.”
“Which was?”
“He’s been out of town, just got back; but he’s gotta fly down to New York for the weekend – can I deliver the package on Monday? So it looks like you can go in there whenever you want.”
Somebody up there likes me, I thought. “Thanks Tony,” I said, “you’ve done a great job. Have a good one.”
I looked at my watch; it was just after six. I climbed back in the Chevy and drove to the liquor store.
“I come bearing good tidings of great joy,” I said, as I stepped through the front door into Lucy’s living room.
“Yeah, and that’s not all you’re bearing,” she said, trying to look into the brown paper bag.
“If you have no other engagement this evening,” I said, “perhaps we’ll dine in and have a small celebration.”
“So how did it go with Calley?”
“As well as could be expected. He’ll be okay – I’ve done all the work and told him how to do his. I can’t do more than that. I’ve got some other good news.”
“Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess,” Lucy said.
“I’ve got a clear weekend to search Barbara’s apartment again. Withers came back, but he’s spending the weekend out of town again. Tony found out for me.”
“How?”
“He talked to him. It’s a long story… but it looks like I’ve struck a rich seam of gold in this investigation. So in the morning I’ll go and search the apartment again and…”
“I’m coming with you.”
“It’s okay; I’ll be fine on my own.”
“I’m coming with you so that after the search you can buy something presentable to wear for dinner tomorrow night,” Lucy said.
I looked at her nonchalantly. “I’ve got stuff in my closet,” I said.
“I looked in your closet – it’s a disgrace,” she said.
“With or without a warrant?” I inquired.
Lucy ignored me. “What time will we be leaving?” she said.
*
It was nine fifty by the time I’d found a parking space near the apartment. We had coffee in the café across the road before I headed off.
“Be careful,” Lucy warned. “I don’t want to have to come and rescue you again,” she said mischievously.
Inside the apartment I could at first see little to suggest that Withers had returned, but in the bedroom was a large suitcase on top of the unmade bed, with the lid open. There was a smaller suitcase I noticed by the side of the bed. I ignored these and instead searched the few items of women’s clothing in the closet. I hadn’t searched these thoroughly before; I’d been looking for something too large to fit in any of the pockets. As I searched the inside pocket of a beige jacket my lucky streak continued. There was an envelope addressed to Barbara Green. Inside was a printed letter promoting a local furniture store in Providence. The address on the envelope was in Providence too, less than an hour’s drive south. I wrote down the address in my notebook and put the letter back in the jacket pocket.
I continued to search but found nothing more of interest. I peeked into the other closet. The Gladstone bag was still there. I looked inside – Delmar’s cell phone, keys and wallet were still there too. I decided to take a chance on this. It seemed likely that Withers had spent only a short time in the apartment before heading off to New York. There was nothing in the kitchen to suggest he’d so much as made himself a cup of coffee and the suitcases obviously hadn’t been unpacked. I surmised that he’d probably taken a few items out of the suitcase on the bed, put them in a weekend bag and left for the airport. I took the Gladstone bag from his closet and placed it in the one with Barbara’s clothes. I thought it unlikely, when he returned, that he’d interfere with anything in there. I already had a plan to inform him of Barbara’s whereabouts.
I walked through to the living room. I decided to search the desk again to see if I’d missed anything which might tell me more about Barbara. Instead I found Withers’ passport, on top of a pile of papers in the top drawer. I took it out to look at it. There was an entry stamp from Mumbai immigration dated the twentieth of December and an exit stamp from Mumbai dated the thirtieth of January. There were no stamps between these dates to suggest he’d been anywhere else – at least not internationally.
I continued to sift through the items in all three desk drawers. From my recollection nothing had changed since my last search – nothing added and nothing removed.
After no more than thirty minutes I was back in the Chevy with Lucy.
“Did you find anything else?” she said.
“Only a letter. It was addressed to Barbara at an address in Providence,” I said. “I think it’ll be worth checking out. Oh, and I found Withers’ passport. It seems like he’s been in India since December twenty.”
“So that puts him in the clear,” Lucy said.
“I guess so. He obviously wasn’t involved in either the blackmail or Delmar’s death. Whether he knows anything about either of those matters is another thing, but it seems doubtful.”
“Can we go shopping now?” Lucy said.
“I’ve a little job for you first. I want you to write a note for Withers and put it in his mailbox. Tell him that you’re a friend of Barbara’s and she’s in the hospital. Sign it with whatever name you like.”
“Won’t the guy from the management office have told him that?” Lucy said.
“Maybe; but there’s no harm in being sure.”
I tore a page out of my notebook and handed it to her, together with my pen. After she finished writing it she showed it to me. It was signed ‘Nora Charles’.
I waited until she’d delivered the note then we drove downtown. After a tiresome couple of hours shopping we headed home.
“No lunch today,” Lucy said, “so we’ll enjoy the dinner.”
I dropped Lucy off and went home on the pretext of trying on my new clothes and poured myself a stiff drink. Things were going just a bit too well, I thought – something was bound to go wrong.
We met Don and Lisa as planned. I’d only seen Lisa a few times; once in her car, once in the café in South Boston and once in Starbucks – each time from a distance. Her photographs didn’t do her justice either. She was strikingly pretty but in an understated kind of way. She looked relaxed and happy. Don was positively glowing.
“This is Kane, Lisa,” he said, “and Lucy. Kane is Duncan’s younger brother and I’ve been meaning to get in touch with him for ages. I spoke to Duncan recently and he put me in touch.” He leant close to Lisa’s ear and said in a stage whisper: “Kane and Lucy are private detectives.”
She looked at both of us in turn. “How unusual,” she said. “I mean interesting not unusual,” she laughed. “And are you … two…”
“Friends,” I said; “close friends.”
The meal went very well in spite of the conversation I’d had with Lucy on the way to the restaurant.
“If Lisa asks you about your job,” I said, “you know, as an assistant investigator, try to tone it down a bit. We don’t want a repeat of your performance when
we were in Subic; and try not to get bombed.”
Lucy had inhaled slowly and said with a haughty tone, “I’m not a child, and I shall speak to her in any way I choose.”
We talked mainly about their holiday, and Lucy told Lisa about the new office.
“I’ve been given a totally free hand with the design and décor. We’re hoping to move in next week, but there are still a few problems. A few things that the contractors haven’t finished to my satisfaction,” she said importantly.
“What do you think about it, Kane?” Lisa said.
“I haven’t seen it for a while. Lucy thought I’d be in the way.” Lisa laughed.
After the meal we moved over to the bar. Lucy and Lisa were drinking cocktails and Don and I drank brandy.
“My favorite’s Sex on the Beach,” I heard Lisa say.
“Oh, I had some of those in the Philippines – got completely canned unfortunately,” Lucy said.
“Wow, the Philippines. It sounds so exotic – tell me all about it,” Lisa said. They moved off to a table near the window together. I turned to Don.
“So is Lisa’s back to her normal self?”
“Yes, everything’s just like it was before. I’m so relieved that nonsense is all over. Oh, I’ve brought your check. I hope you’ll forgive me – there’s a little something extra to show my appreciation.”
At ten thirty we told Don we had to be going. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow,” I said. “We’re driving down to Rhode Island.”
“Sounds great. Be sure to enjoy yourselves,” he said.
We said our goodbye’s and set off home. “Don’s given us a bonus,” I said. “An extra grand.”
“Ooh, can I have it for the office?”
“I’ll have to cash it first, and then we’ll see. I hope you’re not getting too carried away down there – I doubt many people are even going to see it, Lucy.”
“Oh, I think we should be more office-oriented in the future – it’s more professional,” she said.
Till Death - Mark Kane Mysteries - Book Four: A Private Investigator Crime Series of Murder, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Stories...with a dash of Romance. A Murder, Mystery & Suspense Thriller Page 19
