A Fatal Affair Faith Martin (read dune .TXT) 📖

or your son, arranging to meet at the barn the evening before you found him?’ Clement pressed.

‘No sir, that he didn’t,’ Ray said, sounding puzzled. ‘Why would he want to meet up with me? He stopped working summers on my farm when he went up to university. And my Ronnie weren’t in that night – he was at the pub with his mates. Everyone knows that,’ he added, again darting a glance at the public gallery, as if daring anyone to gainsay him.

‘Thank you, Mr Dewberry. That’s all,’ Clement said kindly. ‘I think we’ll have the medical evidence at this point. Calling Dr Martin Breakspeare.’

Chapter 4

The local doctor, who’d originally been called to the scene, looked nervous, as well he might. He hadn’t been practising long, but long enough to know the formidable reputation of the man sitting in the judgement seat. Although he’d not studied at the same hospital where Dr Clement Ryder had been chief surgeon, he’d made a lot of friends in the medical fraternity who had – and the man’s legend went ahead of him.

So, not surprisingly, as he took the podium he cast the coroner a quick, apprehensive look. There wouldn’t be any wriggle room for slip-shod testimony or waffling about the facts with this man!

Dr Breakspeare took a deep breath and hoped that he didn’t say anything foolish.

‘You were called to the scene at … what time, Dr Breakspeare?’ Clement began gently enough, but even so, the young medic consulted his notes. A tall, thin, dark-haired man with a somewhat rampant moustache, of which he was rather fond, he had a long neck and a prominent Adam’s apple.

‘Er, I arrived at the barn at 7.10 a.m.’

‘Was it hard to get to?’

‘Not really. The barn was not within sight of the farmhouse itself, but off a farm track that rose steeply, but was reasonably navigable in a trustworthy car like mine. I was directed there by the constable on duty at the house.’

‘And will you tell the jury, in layman’s terms, what you found, and the results of any tests or examinations of the body since then, please.’

The doctor cleared his throat and turned to the jury. ‘I found the police in attendance, and the body of a young male lying on the ground. I was informed by one of the officers that the victim had been found hanging from the rafters of the barn, with the rope around his neck. This rope had been loosened, removed from the body and set aside. I observed a rope-burn mark around the sides of the deceased’s neck, consistent with this testimony.’

He paused, took a sip of water then continued steadily. ‘I ascertained that the victim was indeed deceased – that is, he had no heartbeat or pulse, and was in fact, cold to the touch. Using the standard measures – that is, body temperature and the passing of rigour – I gave the investigating officer a preliminary estimate that time of death had probably occurred not less than six and not more than twelve hours previously.’

Clement nodded. ‘In other words, you think it most probable that the victim died somewhere from the later afternoon to the late evening of the day before?’

‘That would be my opinion, er, Dr Ryder, but of course, as you know, estimating time of death is fraught with difficulties. The ambient temperature in the barn, any pre-existing medical conditions the deceased may have had, and a number of other factors can all make stating a time of death, at best, a rough estimate.’

‘Carry on.’

‘After declaring the victim dead, I left to continue my normal duties,’ the medical man said promptly.

‘Did you know the victim?’

‘No sir, not personally.’

‘Thank you. Call the police pathologist please.’

As the local GP stepped down with some relief, an older, rounder, white-haired man stepped past him and took his place. There was no similar look of apprehension on his face at being called to testify, and the younger man supposed he was used to it.

‘You are Dr Giles Vantham?’ Clement said. He had, in fact, known Giles for years, and the two men regularly played golf together. They were also members of the same gentlemen’s club in Little Clarendon Street, and each had won money from the other in poker games. But by neither a glance nor a smile did either man acknowledge their friendship.

‘I am.’

‘And you conducted the autopsy on Mr David Finch?’

‘I did.’

‘Will you please tell the jury your findings?’

‘Yes. The deceased died as a result of strangulation, consistent with death by hanging.’

There was a little murmur at this in the court, which both men ignored as the irrelevance they clearly thought it was.

‘I also found a not inconsiderable amount of barbiturates and alcohol in his system,’ the learned man continued smoothly.

There was an even bigger sensation in the room this time, as this was the first the general public were hearing of it, although the police, of course, had long since been informed of the medical examiner’s findings. And Clement Ryder had read the files thoroughly, so he also evinced no surprise.

‘In your medical opinion, did these have any bearing on the cause of death?’ Clement asked instead.

‘No, the doses were not sufficient in themselves to cause death. The alcohol content was not so high as to incapacitate the deceased – that is, it was not high enough to say that he was seriously intoxicated – but it was significant enough to say that he would have feel the effects of it. The drug,’ here the medical man named a well-known and common sleeping draught, available in almost any pharmacy in the land, ‘was also present in sufficient amount to have affected the deceased. Indeed, to have made him sleep for many, many hours once it had taken effect, but it was not of significant enough dosage to constitute what you or I would call an overdose.’

‘Just to make it perfectly clear then, you would say that, although the deceased would have been tipsy from