A Fatal Truth. Faith Martin

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ someone – I think it was Godfrey – said something like, “hoy, watch out, the shed’s on fire” or something along those lines. I looked, and sure enough, I could see smoke billowing out. Then the roof caught, and everything seemed to explode at once – whizzers and bangers, and what not. Rockets started shooting out – bloody dangerous it was, I can tell you. I realised at some point that my wife was asking everyone if they knew where her father was. And I suddenly realised that he wasn’t anywhere around, so he must still be in the shed. But it was impossible to get close to it. I yelled to Caroline to go inside and call the fire brigade. They arrived quickly, I’ll give them that, but by the time they arrived and hosed it down … well, they found my father-in-law’s body inside. Bloody awful it was, I can tell you.’

      Clement didn’t think there was any point, in the circumstances, in upbraiding the man for his use of bad language, so instead merely nodded.

      ‘I think, at this point, that we should hear from the Fire Brigade, and then we’ll have the medical evidence,’ he said instead.

       Chapter 2

      The Chief Fire Officer was a tall, lean, calm man in his mid-fifties, who’d testified before Clement many times before. He was a clever man but he spoke plainly, so that the jury could understand even the most complicated evidence, which sometimes bedevilled arson cases.

      Not that there was anything to suggest deliberate arson in this case, as was quickly made clear. In the Fire Officer’s opinion, the worst of the fire had started more or less in the middle of the shed, but with burn patterns that suggested multiple points of contact, consistent with fireworks shooting off in all directions and starting mini-blazes wherever they landed. These small fires were quickly acerbated by the likes of paraffin, bottles of white spirits, some bags of fertiliser and a supply of winter logs, which the family had all admitted were stored inside. Added to the fact that the walls, floor, roof and shelves were all wooden as well, it was hardly surprising that the shed had been reduced to a pile of ashes and bits of burned wooden planks.

      When asked how, in his opinion, the fire was most likely to have started, the Fire Officer was reluctant to give any definite opinion. In his view, too little remained of the shed to provide any positive answer – but he saw no reason why either a stray spark, firework or ember blown in by the wind shouldn’t have ignited a firework and set off a chain reaction, as suggested by so many witnesses.

      The coroner thanked him warmly and called his next witness.

      Dr Marcus Borringer took the stand and glanced at Clement with a brief nod. The two men knew each other, of course. Clement had been a surgeon in the same hospital as Borringer before his own health problems (which he’d been careful to keep concealed from everyone) had made him retire from the medical profession and retrain as a coroner. Since then, Doctor Borringer had regularly been called on to give medical evidence in his court. Whilst the two men weren’t friends exactly, they each respected the reputation for professionalism which they both enjoyed.

      ‘Thank you, Dr Borringer,’ Clement greeted him cordially. ‘You performed the autopsy on Mr Thomas Hughes?’ he began briskly, confident that the pathologist would have done a fine job.

      ‘I did – two days after he was presented at my mortuary.’

      ‘And can you tell the jury about your findings as to cause of death, please?’ Having asked the question, he leaned back in his chair slightly, prepared to put in a clarifying question if need be, but confident there wouldn’t be too much to puzzle or flummox his jury.

      ‘Yes. Mr Thomas Hughes was a well-nourished male, seventy-one years of age, in reasonable health. That is, I found no signs of advanced heart or liver disease, or anything of a serious nature, that would normally have been causing him distress. He showed the usual signs of wear-and-tear as it were, for a man of his age – the first indications of arthritis in his wrist and elbow joints, for instance, and he had probably been diabetic, but had not been taking medication for this disease.’

      ‘I see. In other words, you found no evidence that he had suffered a heart attack or a stroke of anything of the kind that might account for his death?’ Clement clarified smoothly.

      ‘Quite so.’

      Clement nodded and indicated him to continue.

      ‘Naturally, the body had been very badly burned indeed – not to say blackened – and had adopted what we term ‘a pugilist pose’; that is, his arms seemed to have been drawn up and his hands were fisted, as if he were about to start a boxing match. This, as you know, is due to the heat tightening the tendons in his arms.’

      Clement nodded and turned briefly to explain – and demonstrate – the pose to the jury. ‘And what else did your autopsy discover?’ he prompted.

      ‘We found traces of scorching and evidence of smoke damage in both Mr Hughes’s throat and lungs. Also in his blood samples …’ The medical man proceeded to give a technical but clear account of a man who had died, most probably, from smoke inhalation.

      ‘You think then, that he was probably unconscious before he would have felt any pain as a result of his burns?’ Clement said, with one eye on the victim’s family, who were now sitting extremely pale-faced in their seats.

      He caught the pathologist’s eye, who then gave a slow nod. If, privately, he wasn’t so sure that the victim wouldn’t have felt anything, he, like Clement, was in no hurry to cause pointless distress by lingering on the fact.

      ‘And was there anything else that caught your attention?’ Clement asked next.

      ‘Yes. I found a head wound on the back and to one side of Mr Hughes’s skull.’

      At this, there was a quick stirring in the court, as Clement had expected there would be, when this particular snippet was announced. It was always the so-called ‘dramatic moments’ that people responded to most readily, but he (who’d already seen the doctor’s report) wasn’t taken by surprise.

      ‘Can you tell us more about this injury please?’ he asked, almost placidly, his matter-of-fact tone doing a lot to settle the mood in the room.

      But he noticed that one of the journalists in particular was fascinated by the medical man’s testimony, and had been taking down every word verbatim, with an intense look of concentration on his face. He was a handsome young man who looked to be in his late twenties, with a thick head of black hair and pale eyes that Clement thought would, on closer inspection, probably turn out to be pale blue or grey. Perhaps he was less experienced than his more grizzled and world-weary colleagues, Clement mused. Or perhaps this was his first big story and he was keen to make a splash?

      His attention quickly turned from the reporter to his witness as Dr Borringer began to speak once more.

      ‘Yes, the wound was fairy long but narrow, and angled along the right-hand side of his temple.’

      ‘Would it have been enough to kill him?’ Clement asked flatly.

      ‘Oh no. There was no actual fracture of the skull – or to be more precise, no fracture of the skull due to impact. As you know, the results of a fire can sometimes cause fractures in bones after death,’ the pathologist emphasised carefully. ‘I would say the blow would certainly have stunned him – and quite possibly have rendered him unconscious for a short period of time.’

      ‘I СКАЧАТЬ