A Finer End

the man.
    ‘All right, let’s have a look.’ Lamb took off his jacket, handing it to Greely, then pulled a pair of gloves from his trouser pocket and slipped them on.
    Greely stepped away and Kincaid followed suit as the doctor climbed into the van. ‘Sharp old bugger,’ Greely said. ‘But he gets tetchy if you get in his way. Not that I’ve ever much enjoyed watching the poking and prodding part.’
    They waited in silence while the doctor made his examination. Kincaid gradually became aware of the bustle of activity taking place in the hedgerow as birds searched for tasty berries and insects, and of the inappropriate rumbling of his own stomach. He had forgotten all about lunch.
    ‘One odd thing,’ Greely offered meditatively, providing Kincaid with a welcome distraction from his hunger. ‘The walker who discovered the body this morning was a bloke called Bram Allen — the husband of the lady who discovered Winifred Catesby in the lane.’
    Kincaid raised an eyebrow. ‘Coincidence?’
    ‘He said he walks round the Tor every day — could be his wife’s experience made him nervy — that, and the flies buzzing round the van.’
    ‘Did he know the victim?’
    ‘According to Mr Allen, everyone in Glastonbury knew Garnet Todd. Seems the woman was a genuine eccentric.’
    Dr Lamb reappeared, rear end first as he backed out of the van. He removed his gloves, brushed off his knees, and rolled down his shirtsleeves before accepting his jacket from Greely.
    ‘All right, Doc, you’ve kept us in suspense long enough,’ Greely said, and Kincaid suspected the pair had a well-developed routine.
    ‘Well.’ Lamb brushed a twig from his lapel. ‘I’d say she’s been dead at least twelve hours, maybe a good bit longer with last night’s drop in temperature. Lividity is well established, but there’s some slight staining in other areas that indicates she may have been moved after death. There’s no sign of sexual interference that I can see.’
    Grudgingly, as if he knew it was expected of him, Greely asked, ‘Cause of death?’
    ‘Well, now, that’s the most interesting thing. There are indications of asphyxiation, but no ligature marks or bruising on the throat or neck area. I have my suspicions, but I’m not going to say any more. You’ll have to wait for the autopsy.’
    Greely groaned. ‘I can’t see that we’re much further along. Can we move the body, then?’
    ‘Mmm.’ The doctor nodded. ‘Ask the pathologist to give me a ring when he’s finished, would you? Satisfy my curiosity.’ He turned to Kincaid. ‘Staying long, Superintendent? You might find this one interesting.’
    ‘Just the weekend,’ Kincaid answered. He shook the doctor’s hand and watched as he climbed back into his decrepit Morris and chugged up the hill.
    Greely signalled to the mortuary attendants. They transferred the corpse onto a white sheet to preserve any trace evidence, then moved it from one van to the other. The doors clanged shut with metallic finality and the van pulled away. The crime-scene technicians were still busy at Garnet Todd’s vehicle, while two uniformed constables painstakingly searched the surrounding area.
    Casually, Kincaid asked, ‘Any leads?’
    ‘Absolutely sod all — except for the young lady your cousin, Mr Montfort, seems to have taken in. We’ll have to interview her, you know, and the sooner, the better.’
    ‘Did you find any evidence that Garnet Todd’s van was involved in Miss Catesby’s accident?’
    ‘A few smudges on the front bumper. Could have been caused by a close encounter with a hedge. There was not much vehicular damage to Miss Catesby’s bicycle, mostly scrapes and dings from the road. And there was no bleeding from Miss Catesby’s injuries—
    ‘So no hope of blood on the vehicle,’ Kincaid said grimly. ‘What about fibres?’
    ‘We’re checking now. But’ — Greely shrugged — ‘it’s a snowball’s chance in hell, if you ask me, and we’ve nothing to link the two incidents other than the girl’s story.’
    As he wondered if Gemma had managed to coax anything more from Faith, Kincaid realized how easily they, too, had fallen into their old routine.
     
    As anxious as he was about Winnie, Jack felt he must take the time to let Simon Fitzstephen know about Garnet’s death — and not by telephone. Simon and Garnet had been friends for too long for an impersonal notification.
    At least he could feel sure that he’d left Faith in good hands.