Chilling Out

by Andrew Puckett

  Dominic looked up from the desk. 'Hello, inspector. I didn't realise you were coming in today.'

  'And I didn't realise you'd be here, sir.' He paused. 'This is Mr Jones from the Department of Health. He'll be assisting us and I'm showing him the scene of crime.'

  'That's all right, inspector,' he said, graciously acceding to Bennett's non-request. He got up, held out his hand to Tom. 'Dominic Tudor, acting lab manager.' His smile was for Tom alone. 'Is that your Mini Cooper outside?'

  'Yes,' said Tom.

  'Looks in beautiful condition. You don't see so many about now.'

  'Not so many,' agreed Tom.

  'If you're coming in tomorrow, you'll have to leave it in one of the car-parks – we need the space out there for loading. The underground one would be the best.'

  'OK.'

  'Well, let me know if you need me for anything.'

  Tom told him he would and Bennett took him along to the freezing-room corridor.

  'Arrogant little tick,' he said when they were out of earshot.

  'You don't like him?'

  'No, I don't.'

  'Is he in the frame at all?'

  'I don't think so.' Bennett sounded regretful. 'He's the one with the library books.'

  He pushed open another door and they were outside the freezing-room. A notice was stuck to the heavy insulating door:

  DANGER. Faulty release handle.

  Do not enter without supervision.

  'No mistake about that,' said Tom.

  'No,' said Bennett. 'That's the fuse box for the lights and siren,' he said, pointing.

  Tom went over. After looking at it for a moment, he pulled out the screw, slid aside the holding clip and pulled off the cover to reveal the fuses.

  'Careful,' said Bennett.

  Tom looked up. 'The screw was loose – if I can do that, so can anyone.'

  'But we don't know whether it just happened to be loose at the time, do we? Or whether it was doctored beforehand.'

  He twisted the light switch and a red bulb glowed, then he pulled the door open. Tom felt the cold air washing round his feet as the whine of the fans inside died away and a veil of mist formed in the doorway where cold and warm air met. Bennett showed him the handle.

  'Normally, if you push it from inside, the door opens.' He pushed it. 'Now, it's jammed.'

  'Intentionally?'

  'The engineers say not. D'you want to go in?'

  'I'd better have a look.'

  They stepped through the curtain of mist. Inside, the air was crystal and the light sparkled and flashed from the thick coating of ice on the walls and shelving. Icicles hung from the coolant radiators at either end and the hairs froze in Tom's nostrils as he breathed in.

  'Forensic didn't need to thaw it out, then?' His voice hung thick, like smoke.

  'No, they thought they'd have a better chance of finding evidence by leaving it frozen. They were right. There were particles of Goring's shoes and trousers on the floor here – ' he pointed – 'and they found traces of skin and blood on the door and on the pull cord for the siren, here.'

  Of course they would, thought Tom, where he'd have bashed and scrabbled and screamed and yanked at the cord in blind panic until the cold finally… He could feel the cold himself now, nibbling stealthily at his neck and ankles, and for a few parsecs he was back eight years, trapped in there alone and in the dark… Until it gnawed through to his bones and he knew it was the end. Tom had known what it was to give up hope.

  'Seen enough?'

  'Yes.' He followed him out into what already felt like a tropical rain forest. Bennett slammed the door and turned off the light.

  Tom forced himself to think. 'We come back to where we started – was it premeditated?'

  Bennett took a breath and released it. 'As I said earlier, it's such a risky way of killing someone. I know that orderly's a bit deaf, but he might easily have come out of his room at that moment. He might even have gone to the freezer for some reason and found Goring there before he died – none of them likely, but all quite possible.'

  'So you think it was spontaneous?'

  Bennett shrugged elaborately. 'That's just as difficult to see. Why were they here, why hadn't they made themselves known to the orderly? If they came in for X to show Goring some evidence against Pengellis, what could have triggered X to kill him?'

  'There are other ways in, aren't there?' Tom said after a pause. 'Besides the way we came in.'

  'I'll show you.'

  He took Tom down the main corridor and left past Medlar's office. 'That door leads to the main hospital, as I'm sure you remember.'

  Tom nodded and Bennett walked swiftly on past Microbiology to reception. 'This is where it's changed. You can still get in through there – ' he pointed to the reception office – 'but there's a lift and staircase here now that take you down to the underground park where they keep their trucks and vans. If Goring and X parked there, then came up in the lift and went down here – ' he led Tom into the back corridor – 'they'd have been able to get through without much risk of being seen.'

  He pushed open a door on the left and they walked through the wash-up area to the Products Lab.

  'Presto.' Bennett pulled open another door. 'Here's the freezer.'

  'D'you think that's what happened?'

  'It fits the facts. We know Goring was expecting to be shown some evidence – the question is, by whom?'

  'Bit of a fazer, innit?' Tom said after a pause.

  'And I wish you joy of it,' Bennett said.

  The two men reluctantly smiled at each other, as though aware suddenly that they were on the same side.

  'So what's your first move?' Bennett asked.

  'Dr Randall, I think, in case he's had any third or fourth thoughts, and then Miss Pengellis, since she comes so highly recommended. D'you have her address?'

  'Sure. D'you want her phone number as well?'

  'No, I think I'll let it be a surprise for her.'

  After Bennett had left, Tom went up to the hospital library where he could concentrate on the statements without distractions, make notes and formulate a few questions.

  None of the main players really had a watertight alibi, he thought; with the exception of Paul, they were all provided by each other, their spouses, or both. Jessie and Verity… Medlar and Maria… Dominic and Ashley.

  After an hour or so, his brain felt saturated and he decided to go back to Sticklepath. They'd kept some Sunday lunch for him which he ate by himself in the kitchen, then he, Holly and Hal donned wellies and took Henry's dog for a walk round the fields. Hal was fascinated by the sheep nosing round the feeding cages and had to be physically restrained from investigating the horns on the ram that was calmly appraising them with his disconcerting devil's eyes.

  'It's not so bad being here,' Holly said quietly. 'Is it?'

  Tom smiled. 'I suppose not,' he said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dr Ewan Randall seemed to be regretting the impulsive generosity that had led him to grant Tom an audience. 'Mr Jones? Come in, sit down. How can I help? I'm rather busy at the moment – I have to go soon.'

  Hello, I must be going, thought Tom. Fortunately, he'd already worked out his questions, and the smell of the Path Lab rendered him as anxious to leave as Randall.

  'I know you can't be exact, doctor, but I'd be glad of anything you can tell me about the timings.'

  'How d'you mean, timings?'

  'Inspector Bennett thinks that Dr Goring was locked into the freezer on Friday evening. What do you think? And if so, when was the body taken out – Saturday or Sunday?'

  Randall spoke a little more slowly. 'As you've observed, it's impossible to give definitive answers, since the study of heat loss and gain in the human body is an inexact science.' He took a breath. 'He was last seen on Friday evening and nothing I found suggested he went into the freezer any later than that.'

  'But he could have?'

  'He could have, yes,' he agreed. 'The events follow
ing that are even more difficult to predict – how quickly the temperature of the body fell would depend on how long he remained alive…'

  'How long would you think?'

  Randall looked away for a moment, then back at Tom. 'I understand that Dr Goring wasn't a popular man, but I wouldn't wish that death on anyone. He would have remained conscious for at least twenty minutes, probably longer, judging by the cuts and bruises to the hands, but not much over forty minutes because of the chill factor – you know what I mean by that?'

  Tom nodded.

  'Well, the fans in that freezing-room blasting out air at minus thirty degrees chill someone very quickly.'

  'What about clothing, or layers of fat?'

  'He was well built, but had no overcoat, just a light jacket – it wasn't particularly cold on Friday evening. With the chill factor I've described, I think he would have been unconscious after about thirty minutes – mercifully – and dead about an hour after that. Body temperature would have fallen quite rapidly after death, the rate slowing as it approached minus thirty.'

  'So when do you think he was taken out?'

  'I don't know, Mr Jones.' He paused again. 'The human body is a very poor conductor of heat, especially immersed in cold water, so the temperature would have risen much more slowly than it fell in the freezer. The body was still rigid when I first examined it, so I would guess, and I must emphasise that it really is only a guess, that it was taken out on Sunday. Does that answer your question?'

  'It does, thank you.'

  'I could never swear to any of this in court, it's only what I think.' He looked at his watch. 'Was there anything else?'

  Tom hesitated. 'Doctor, someone, somehow, got him into that freezer without being seen and left him to die. They then took the risk of coming back later, taking the body out and dumping it in the river. Inspector Bennett thinks it was done to confuse the police, but – '

  'Not difficult in his case.'

  Tom smiled dutifully. 'Can you think of any reason for it?'

  'Not really, although it's not my job, of course. But Bennett's idea of it being done to confuse the time of death won't wash. If the body had been found in the freezer on Monday, I wouldn't have known when he'd gone in. It could have been Friday or Saturday, maybe even Sunday, so where's the advantage of moving it?' He considered a moment. 'The only thing I can think of is that it was an attempt to confuse the manner of his death – they probably thought the body would thaw and hoped we'd think he drowned.'

  'One last thing, doctor.' Tom could see that his patience was very nearly exhausted. 'Moving a frozen body is going to be difficult in any circumstances, but how difficult would depend on its posture – d'you see what I mean?'

  Randall nodded. 'It would have been difficult, but not impossible, in the posture in which I found it.' The look of near pity touched his face again as he described it. 'You see, I think the instinct of a person dying in those circumstances would be to curl up, adopt a foetal position – partly of course to reduce heat loss, but maybe also something more primitive… his arm probably became outstretched as he lost consciousness.' His eyes flicked back to Tom. 'I hope you catch him, Mr Jones. I hope he's put away for a very long time.'

  'He, doctor?'

  'I'm incorrigibly sexist – of course it could have been a woman. And now, you really will have to excuse me.'

  As Tom walked back to his car, he thought about the living image of Goring he'd seen on the video, about what Randall had said about his death. He was right, nobody deserved to die like that, and he wondered whether the killer had known what he (or she) was subjecting his (or her) victim to. He shook his head as though to clear it, unlocked the car and got in.

  Jessie's house was in a back street terrace, the middle one of the block with the date, 1907, high on the wall between the top windows. There was no answer to the bell, but this may have been due to the electric drill he could hear going somewhere inside. He waited until it stopped, then tried again. After about half a minute, the door opened against a chain.

  'Yes?' said a voice.

  He could make out a pair of eyes behind the crack. He explained who he was and passed his identification through.

  'I think I will phone this number and check,' the voice said.

  'That's what it's there for,' Tom said equably.

  He looked around while he waited. A trellis separated the front garden from its neighbour; it looked tidy now and was probably very pretty in the summer. Although the house was small, the doorway was attractively arched and the whole property well cared for.

  The chain rattled again and the door opened.

  'Come in, Mr Jones.'

  'Thank you.'

  As his eyes adjusted, he saw a slight, almost boyish figure in blue dungarees. Dark brown hair framed a thin, attractive face with high cheekbones and button brown eyes. Dust and wood shavings clung to her and, as though reading his mind, she said, 'I've been doing some DIY, since I'll probably have to sell this place soon.'

  She showed him into the living-room. 'Would you like a coffee?'

  'Please.'

  'Milk and sugar?'

  'Just milk, please.'

  She went out and he looked round. The room was tidy, but lived in and comfortable. There were books on the shelves and the small TV was pushed back in a corner. She came back with mugs of coffee.

  'Thanks – that was quick.'

  'The kettle hadn't long boiled.' She sat down opposite him.

  Tom sipped the coffee, waiting for her to ask how she could help him or some such.

  She didn't, so after a pause, he began. 'The Blood Division is very embarrassed about what's happened down here…'

  'I'm not surprised.'

  'They want it resolved quickly, which is why they've sent me.'

  'Have the police given up on it, then?'

  'The police never give up as such, but they don't see themselves getting a quick answer in this case. Also, they're not so concerned with the allegations you made about Dr Goring as are the Blood Division. About the reasons for the closure of the Tamar centre.'

  'I see.'

  There was another silence while they appraised each other under the guise of drinking coffee. She's tough, he thought, but a killer…?

  Again as though reading his mind, she said, 'I didn't kill Dr Goring. I know Inspector Bennett thinks I did, but I didn't.' She held his eyes. 'And if you've been sent here by the Blood Division, by Lady Margaret, I'm just wondering what it's in your interest to think.'

  'How d'you mean?'

  'I'd have thought it obvious. The best scenario for Lady M. would be that the allegation was groundless, that I made it up out of spite, and that when Dr Goring had me justifiably punished, I killed him.'

  Tom couldn't remember such cynicism ever being ascribed to him before. 'Try and regard me as a simple seeker after truth,' he said.

  'Ah, but what is truth, said jesting Pilate… You see, I've had time to catch up on my reading. What if the “truth” you found was not to Lady M.'s liking?'

  'Then she'd have to listen anyway.'

  Her eyes widened. 'An honest apparatchik – my word!'

  Tom smiled. 'This isn't really getting us anywhere, is it?'

  'No? I was rather enjoying it.' She took a cigarette packet from the front pouch of her dungarees, extracted one and offered the pack to him.

  'Not at the moment, thanks.'

  She found a lighter, applied the flame. 'Then ask me your questions.'

  'I've seen a video of the TV interview you had with Dr Goring. Was the allegation you made true?'

  She blew smoke. 'I believe so, yes.'

  'What's your source?'

  She hesitated. 'Someone at the East Dorset centre.'

  'Who?'

  'I can't tell you that. I gave my word.'

  'I have to know if I'm going to check it. I can promise you that it wouldn't go any further. And it would be to your advantage,' he added.

  'How do I know I can trust you?'r />
  'Ultimately, I suppose, you don't. But I wouldn't last very long in my job if I habitually broke my word.'

  She nodded slowly. 'All right. It was Diana Small. She's in charge of the Reagents Lab at Poole.'

  Tom noted it down. 'How does she know?'

  'She overheard Dr Goring and Dr Goldman talking about it.'

  'So why did she tell you? I mean, isn't it to her advantage if Tamar shuts rather than East Dorset?'

  'She's honest. She doesn't like corruption.'

  'I wonder how she felt about you letting it out so dramatically.'

  'She was very annoyed about it. I hadn't planned to let it out like that.' She continued quickly, 'You say you've seen the interview – what did you think, did anything strike you about it?'

  'Other than the revelation at the end, you mean?'

  She nodded.

  Tom thought a moment. 'Only that you were pretty evenly matched.'

  'But who did you think came out on top?'

  'I suppose Dr Goring did – because he had a convincing answer for all the points you made.'

  'Exactly!' she said. 'Thank you, Mr Jones. That's why I made the allegation.'

  'To get back at him any way you could?'

  'No, because it was the only thing left that wasn't scripted, so to speak. I spent weeks collating all that data, and yet he had an immediate answer for every single point I made. There's only one way that could have happened…' She explained how she'd left her file on her desk, how it could so easily have been taken and photocopied, and how he'd even known about the staff meeting she'd held.

  'That was the clincher, and that's why I did it. I had to hit him with something he wasn't ready for, and that was the only thing I could think of.'

  'Well, you were right there,' Tom agreed. 'He certainly wasn't expecting it.'

  'No, and it showed him up for what he was – a blustering, lying bully – Sorry!' she said. 'I know you shouldn't speak ill of the dead…'

  'Bullying liar or not, he's certainly that,' observed Tom.

  'Yes, but I didn't do it.' Again, she looked directly into his eyes.

  'So you're saying he had a spy here?'

  'Yes.'

  'Who?'