A Certain Justice (31 page)

It was as he turned away from the window that they came in together. Piers was wearing his raincoat. It was swinging open. A bottle of wine was lodged in the inner pocket. Tugging it out, he placed it with some ceremony on Dalgliesh’s desk.

“Part of my birthday present from a perceptive uncle. I thought we deserved it, sir.”

Dalgliesh looked at the label. “Hardly a wine for casual tippling, is it? Save it for a meal which will do it justice. But we’ll have coffee. Judy’s left the things next door. See to it, will you, Piers?”

Piers gave Kate a rueful glance, pocketed the wine without comment and went out.

Kate said; “Sorry we’re late, sir. Doc Kynaston was running late at the mortuary, but he should be reporting any minute.”

“Any surprises?”

“None, sir.”

They didn’t speak again until Piers had come back with the cafetière, milk and three cups and set the tray down on the conference table. It was then that the fax chattered into life and they moved together over to the machine. Miles Kynaston had been true to his promise.

The report began with the usual preliminaries: the time and place of the post-mortem, the officers present, including members of the investigating team, photographer, scene-of-crime officer, laboratory liaison officer and forensic scientists and mortuary technicians. Under the instruction of the pathologist the external clothing was removed and the wig, suitably protected, handed to the exhibit officer. The lab would later confirm what they already knew: that the blood was Desmond Ulrick’s. Then came the part of the report for which they were waiting.

The body was that of a well-nourished, middle-aged Caucasian female. Rigor mortis, fully developed when the body was first examined at ten that morning, had passed off in all muscle groups. The fingernails were of medium length, clean and unbroken. The natural head hair was short and dark brown. There was a single small puncture wound over the anterior chest wall, 5 cm. to the left of the mid-line. This injury lay approximately horizontally and measured 1.2. cm. in length. Dissection showed the track penetrated directly backwards into the chest cavity between the seventh and eighth ribs, entering the pericardial sac and penetrating into the anterior wall of the left ventricle, where it caused a 0.7 cm. injury. The track of the wound penetrated through the septum of the heart to a depth of approximately 1.5 cm. The injury itself and the pericardial sac showed minimal haemorrhage. It is my opinion that the injury was caused by the steel paper-knife, labelled Exhibit A.
There were no other external injuries except for a small bruise approximately 2 cm. square on the back of the skull. There were no defensive injuries to the hands or arms. The bruise is consistent with the deceased being pushed back against the wall or door with some force when the knife was inserted.

Then followed a long catalogue of Venetia Aldridge’s organs, central nervous system, respiratory system, cardiovascular system, stomach and oesophagus, intestines. The words came up one after another, always with the comment that the organs were normal.

The report on the internal organs was followed by the list of samples handed to the exhibit officer, including swabs and samples of blood. Then followed the weights of the organs. It was hardly relevant to the inquiry that Venetia Aldridge’s brain weighed one thousand three hundred and fifty grams, her heart two hundred and seventy grams and her right kidney two hundred grams, but the figures, baldly stated, were superimposed in Dalgliesh’s mind upon the picture of Miles Kynaston’s assistant, with his gloved and bloody hands, carrying the organs to the scales like a butcher weighing offal.

Then came the conclusions.

The deceased was a well-nourished woman with no evidence of natural disease that could have caused or contributed to death. The injury to the chest is consistent with a deep penetrating injury from a thin-bladed weapon which resulted in injury to the septum of the heart. The absence of bleeding along the wound track indicates that death occurred very rapidly following infliction of this injury. No defensive injuries were present. I give the cause of death as a stab wound to the heart.

Dalgliesh asked: “Did Doc Kynaston give any closer estimate of the time of death?”

It was Kate who replied: “Confirmed it, sir. Between seven-thirty and eight-thirty would be a working hypothesis. I don’t think he’ll be any more precise in court but privately he thinks she was dead by eight or very soon afterwards.”

Estimating the time of death was always tricky, but Kynaston had never in Dalgliesh’s experience been proved wrong. Whether by instinct or experience, or a mixture of both, he seemed able to smell out the moment of death.

They moved across to the table and Piers poured the coffee. Dalgliesh didn’t intend to keep them long. There was no point in making an investigation into an endurance test, but it was important to review progress.

He asked: “So what have we got? Kate?”

Kate wasted no time on preliminaries but got straight to the murder. “Venetia Aldridge was last seen alive by the Senior Clerk, Harry Naughton, just before six-thirty, when he took up a brief received by messenger and a copy of the
Evening Standard
. She was alive at seven-forty-five, when her housekeeper, Mrs. Buckley, spoke to her to complain that Octavia Cummins had demanded that a vegetarian meal should be cooked for her. So she died after seven-forty-five, probably at about eight or soon after. When Mrs. Buckley spoke to her, Aldridge had someone with her. Obviously that person could be the killer. If so, it was either someone from Chambers or a man or woman Miss Aldridge had herself let in and had no reason to fear. No one from Chambers admits to being with her at seven-forty-five. Everyone claims to have left by then. Desmond Ulrick was the last out, he says just after seven-fifteen.”

Piers spread out the map of the Temple on the table. He said: “If she died at eight, or thereabouts, the murderer must have been in the Temple before then. All the unmanned gates are closed at eight, so either Aldridge let him or her in or he or she was already in the Temple when the gates were locked. The Tudor Street entrance has a boom barrier and is manned twenty-four hours a day. No one got in there after eight. The Strand entrance, through the Wren Gate into Middle Temple Lane, is temporarily closed for reconstruction. That still leaves five possible gates, the most likely being the one from Devereux Court through the Judges’ Gate, which most members of Chambers use. But we’ve checked that they’re all secure by eight o’clock. He or she would have needed a key. I refuse to go on saying ‘he or she.’ What are we going to call this murderer? I suggest MOAB — murderer of Aldridge, barrister.”

Dalgliesh said: “How do we see the actual murder?”

Kate went on: “The murderer forced Aldridge back against the wall, bruising the back of her head, and stuck in the knife straight to the heart. Either he was lucky or he knew his anatomy. Afterwards he dragged the body across the carpet — there are heel marks in the pile — and put her in the chair. Her cardigan must have been unbuttoned when the knife went in. He buttoned it up, concealing the slit in her shirt, almost as if he was trying to make her look comfortably tidy. I find that odd, sir. He couldn’t have hoped to make this look a natural death. He wrapped the knife in the coloured section of the
Evening Standard
, then probably took it down to the basement washroom to wash it, tearing up the paper and flushing the pieces down the lavatory. Before leaving, he put the knife in the bottom drawer of Valerie Caldwell’s filing cabinet. At some time he, or someone else, took the full-bottomed wig from the tin in the clerk’s office and the pouch of blood from Mr. Ulrick’s refrigerator and decorated the body. If that was done by the killer, then we have a restricted list of suspects. The murderer knew where to find the knife, the wig and the blood, and the blood was only put in the refrigerator on Monday morning.”

Piers said impatiently: “Look, it’s obvious, surely, that the killer and the prankster are the same person. Why bother otherwise to drag the body and put it in the chair? Why not just let it drop to the ground and lie there? After all, the office was empty. She wasn’t going to be found till next morning. There was no point in making it look as if she were sitting alive in the chair. He did it specifically so that he could decorate her with the wig and the blood. He was making a statement. MOAB killed Aldridge because of her job. The quarrel wasn’t with the woman, it was with the lawyer. That ought to give us a lead on motive.”

Dalgliesh said: “Unless that’s precisely what we’re intended to believe. Why was she killed near the door?”

“She could have been replacing a file in the cabinet to the left of the door, or showing the visitor out. On impulse he seizes the knife and lunges at her as she turns round. If so, it wasn’t a member of Chambers. She wouldn’t be showing out a colleague.”

Kate objected: “She might in certain circumstances. They quarrel, she yells ‘Get out of my room’ and flings open the door. OK, that kind of dramatic outburst doesn’t tie in with what we’re told about her but it’s perfectly possible. After all, she’d been in an odd mood recently.”

“So who are our main suspects, assuming that the killer and the prankster are one and the same?”

Kate referred to her notebook. “There are twenty remaining members of Chambers. The City have done most of the alibi checking for us. All, of course, have keys to Chambers, but it looks as if sixteen are in the clear. We’ve got the names and addresses here. Three are on circuit, four work out of London at the Salisbury Annexe, the two international lawyers are in Brussels, five work from home and can account for their time from six-thirty onwards, one is ill in St Thomas’s Hospital and one is in Canada visiting his daughter who’s given birth to his first grandchild. We’ll have to do some further checking on three of them to see if the alibis will hold. One of the pupils, Rupert Price-Maskell, has just got engaged and was at a dinner to celebrate from seven-thirty. The Connaught. As two of the guests were High Court judges and one a member of the Bar Council we can take it Price-Maskell’s in the clear. Another pupil, Jonathan Skollard, is on circuit with his pupil-master. I haven’t been able to see the third, Catherine Beddington, she’s down with some bug or other. Oh, and the two assistant clerks are in the clear. One of the clerks at Lord Collingford’s Chambers had his stag-night yesterday at a pub in the Earls Court Road. They were with him by seven-thirty and the party didn’t break up until eleven.”

Dalgliesh said: “So, if we’re thinking at present of those people who had keys to Chambers, were there on Wednesday and knew where to lay hands on the wig and the blood, it brings us down to the Senior Clerk, Harold Naughton; the cleaner, Janet Carpenter; and four of the barristers: the Head of Chambers, Hubert St John Langton; Drysdale Laud, Simon Costello and Desmond Ulrick. Your priority tomorrow is to check more closely on their movements after seven-thirty. And you’d better check what time the Savoy has its interval, how long it lasts and whether Drysdale Laud could get to Chambers, kill Aldridge and be back in his seat before the play started again. Find out if he had a seat at the end of a row, and, if possible, who was next to him. Ulrick says he went home first to dump his briefcase and was at Rules for dinner by eight-fifteen. Check that with the restaurant and ask whether they remember if he had a briefcase with him, either at the table or checked in. And you need to see Catherine Beddington if she’s well enough to be interviewed.”

Kate asked: “What about Mark Rawlstone, sir?”

“At present we’ve no factual evidence to link him to the murder. I think we can take it he was at the House by eight-fifteen. He’d hardly persuade four constituents to lie for him and he wouldn’t have given us their names if he wasn’t confident they’d confirm his story. But have a word with the policeman on the gate to the Members’ Entrance. He’ll probably remember whether Rawlstone came by cab or was walking and, if so, from which direction. There’s not much they miss. And there’s something else you might fit in tomorrow if there’s time. I had another look at Miss Aldridge’s blue books before I left Chambers. Her notes on the Ashe case were instructive. It’s extraordinary what trouble she took to know as much as possible about the defendant. Obviously she held the eccentric view for a lawyer that most cases are lost because of inadequacies in the defence. It makes a pleasant change. I’m not surprised that she was appalled by the engagement between Ashe and her daughter; she knew too much about that young man for any mother’s peace of mind. And I was looking at her last case. GBH. Brian Cartwright. Apparently Miss Aldridge was in an odd mood when she returned from the Bailey to Chambers on Tuesday. It seems unlikely that Ashe and her daughter actually turned up at the Bailey to inform her of their engagement, so it’s possible that something else happened. It’s a long shot but it’s worth seeing Cartwright to find out if anything happened at the end of the case. His address is in the blue book. And I’d like to know more about Janet Carpenter. The domestic agency may be able to help. We need to interview Miss Elkington anyway. After all, she and her cleaning women have keys to Chambers. And try Harry Naughton again. A night’s sleep may have cleared his mind. It would be helpful if he could produce someone — anyone — who saw him on that journey home.”

Kate said: “I’ve been thinking of the dagger. Why put it in that filing drawer? Hardly hidden, was it? If we hadn’t found it pretty quickly, Valerie Caldwell would.”

Dalgliesh said: “He dropped it in the most convenient place on his way out. He had a choice, leave it in Chambers or take it away. If he left it he’d have to wipe it clean of prints. If he took it away, perhaps with the idea of dropping it in the Thames, we’d still know that it was the weapon. There was no point in trying to conceal it effectively. That would take time, and he didn’t have time. Mrs. Carpenter was expected at eight-thirty.”

“So you think he knew when Mrs. Carpenter would arrive?”

“Oh yes,” said Dalgliesh. “I think Piers’s MOAB knew that.”