A Thoughtful Woman

by K T Findlay

  There was the sound of secateurs snipping to Peregrin’s right. The lady next door was doing a bit of pruning and by her body language, was clearly listening to their conversation.

  Peregrin nodded toward the entranceway. ‘Perhaps it might be better if we had this conversation indoors Algy. Would you mind?’

  ‘Of course not Inspector. Through here, second on the right into the morning room. I’d ask that you remove your shoes though and put on these cloth slippers. I’m polishing the floors.’ He indicated the cloths on his own feet, and slid off in front of Peregrin, moving like an ice skater. Peregrin could see the surface of the wooden floor change as a little more polish was worked in.

  ‘Interesting technique.’ he observed.

  ‘Old fashioned, but fun and so much kinder to the back. Do sit down and I’ll make us a pot of tea. I was about to have one anyway.’

  While Algy made the tea, Peregrin looked around the morning room. It was beautifully decorated, with water colours on the walls, a few nice ornaments on the shelves, a bookshelf loaded with beautiful books, and a glorious wooden table gleaming in the sunlight.

  Peregrin took a tentative sip of the hot tea. ‘I’m very sorry to tell you Algy, that Mr Holmes died last night.’

  Algy’s cup rattled slightly in its saucer. ‘But he can’t have! He only went to the theatre in Dalton. Did he have a crash?’

  ‘It wasn’t a car crash Algy.’

  ‘Then…’

  ‘We’re not one hundred percent sure what we’re dealing with Algy. Either he drank a fatal dose last night, or someone killed him. We’re genuinely not sure which at the moment.’

  Algy’s eyes bulged. ‘Drunk? Mr Holmes? I find that hard to believe. What was he drinking?’

  ‘Personally I think it was Laphroaig single malt whisky, but we haven't verified that.’

  Algy shook his head violently. ‘I don’t believe it! He treated the amber fluid with the deepest respect, never more than two doubles in an evening. If you’d said wine, then perhaps. He’s had the odd full bottle to himself in the past.’

  ‘Sorry, but it was definitely whisky. He was found just down the road in Pewter Street and I was wondering if he did his drinking here and then went for a wander?’ asked Peregrin.

  ‘No.’ said Algy firmly. ‘I was at home all last night and he certainly wasn’t here before I went to bed at midnight. If he’d come home and drunk as much as you say he has, then I’m sure I would have woken up. Anyway, there’s nothing missing from the whisky cabinet and the car isn’t in the garage.’

  He got up and opened a large three door cabinet. Peregrin gasped. There were over one hundred bottles of whisky stored on their sides on the shelves. Thousands of pounds worth.

  Algy ran his hands down the bottles until he got to the Laphroaig. ‘Here we are. All three bottles are still here, two unopened, one with about four shots out of it. They’ve been like that since late last Thursday when I served him a celebratory pre-prandial.’

  ‘Celebratory?’ asked Peregrin. ‘What was he celebrating?’

  ‘I have no idea inspector. All I can tell you is that he was over the moon, happier than I’d seen him for years. I asked of course, but he just carried on smiling, shook his head and tapped the side of his nose. It was most odd. I’ve never seen him like that, not even after winning the most difficult of cases.’

  ‘Did he do anything else that was strange between then and leaving for the theatre on Sunday night?’

  Algy thought carefully. ‘No Inspector. Nothing at all.’ He paused. ‘Although, thinking about it, perhaps when he left for the theatre, he was a bit more excited than one would have expected. It was just the high school doing Joseph after all, yet he was actually whistling as he entered the garage, something he rarely did.’

  ‘So,’ asked Peregrin, ‘he might have been planning something either before or after the theatre?’

  ‘Perhaps after,’ said Algy, ‘he wouldn’t have had time before. It’s a half hour drive to Dalton, then a five minute walk from his firm’s car park to the theatre. He would have had no more than ten minutes to spare.’

  ‘Did he say he might be late?’

  ‘Not in so many words. He did say not to wait up for him and he could have been back here easily by 11 PM if he’d wanted to be. So perhaps he did have something planned after all. A servant has to walk a fine line between being helpful and nosey, so sometimes one has to assume.’

  ‘Can we check his clothes to see if he took anything other than what he was wearing?’ asked Peregrin.

  ‘Certainly.’ said Algy.

  Half an hour later, Algy was certain. Holmes had taken nothing beyond his theatre clothes. With Algy’s permission, Peregrin had had a really good fossick amongst Holmes’ things. It was one of those homes where everything had its rightful place, so you could see at a glance if anything was missing or out of keeping. Algy was certain it was all above board.

  ‘What do you know about Mr Holmes’s will?’ Peregrin enquired when they’d returned to the morning room.

  ‘Nothing, apart from the bit that affects me of course. I get to stay in his country cottage up the coast in Thistledown until I die and I get a pension paid from the estate.’

  ‘That’s very generous.’ remarked Peregrin.

  ‘He was a generous man Inspector. To others he could seem very aloof, arrogant even, but when it was just the two of us he was the nicest employer you could hope to meet. Ask Elsie next door. She’ll back me up about what a nice fellow he was.’

  ‘Is Elsie the lady with the secateurs?’

  Algy smiled and nodded. ‘She does like to know what’s going on. She’s a good friend of mine.’

  ‘Does she own the property?’

  ‘Good heavens no. She’s the live in help, like me.’

  ‘Just good friends Algy?’

  ‘Don’t you think that’s getting a bit personal Inspector?’ Algy demured.

  ‘Not if it does turn out to be murder.’ said Peregrin grimly. ‘If you get a cottage and a pension, and it lets the pair of you run off, free to spend the rest of your lives together, some might view that as motive.’

  Algy was shocked. ‘That’s awful!’

  Peregrin smiled. ‘When you work in the police, you see the best of people, and the worst of people. After a while nothing surprises you. There are folk out there who would do just that and think nothing of it. I’ve only just met you and my job means I have to consider all possibilities.’

  ‘Dear God.’ muttered Algy. ‘How on earth do you manage to seem so nice?’

  Peregrin laughed. ‘I am nice Algy! I just have a good imagination. They’re not mutually exclusive you know. So, again, just good friends?’

  Algy shot him a look. ‘So far, yes. But I can give you something else to stick in your motive file Inspector. If I’m still with him when I’m sixty five, the pension is doubled. It’s basically my full salary plus a bit. And it’s index linked to inflation. So with him dying now, it’s cost me many thousands of pounds. And he always said that he’d be fine if Elsie and me got together. She could have lived here with me if she wanted.’

  He looked suddenly sad. ‘Life won’t be quite so easy now.’

  Algy saw Peregrin out through the back garden to Cardin Drive at the very top of the estate.

  ‘One last question Algy. Is Mr Holmes’s car still the blue Jaguar XJ12 with those lovely pepper pot wheels?’

  ‘Yes sir. A most beautiful car.’ Algy smiled with pleasure and gave him the registration.

  Instead of walking straight back down to Pewter Street, Peregrin zigzagged his way through all the streets, looking for anything out of place. On Delft, he found something, a blue XJ12 Jaguar with pepper pot wheels.

  Not carrying a personal police radio, Peregrin had to borrow a neighbour’s phone to call the Major Incident Room (MIR) for a recovery team. Then he talked to the residents who told him that the car hadn’t been there when they went to bed. The little kids playing in the street
repeatedly assured him that the car had been there all morning and that they could prove it because they’d been using it as their base for Go Home Stay Home.

  It was locked and neatly parked, with wheels turned towards the kerb so it wouldn’t go far if the brakes failed. Holmes had clearly cared about it and wouldn’t have been thrilled with all the little hand prints now covering it.

  At about 10 AM the tow truck arrived with a detective constable to escort it back to the station. Peregrin sent the officer up to Algy to collect a set of spare keys, supervised the car being pulled up onto the bed of the truck and then saw everyone off before resuming his zigzag path back to Pewter Street.

  Felicity had been hard at work with the rest of the forensics team for over two hours. They were loading the body into the ambulance as he arrived.

  'Ah! How nice to see you doctor. Isn't this a lovely way to spend a Sunday?'

  She nodded. 'Oh yes. I'd far rather be doing this than playing golf! On the other hand, I'm having a much better day than this fellow!'

  'Any preliminary thoughts?'

  'No sign of overt physical violence. The only dirt on his clothes is on his back and on his right side where he was lying. There are a couple of very minor scratches on the polish of the shoes, also on their right sides.'

  She looked thoughtful. 'I'd say he died somewhere else and was then moved here. As you know, rigor mortis is a process that takes time and I'm pretty sure that he was lying on his left side in its initial phases. On the road here he was on his right side, but the skin on his face strongly indicated that he’d been lying on his left before that. Mind you, it was a cold night which slows the process down, so I'm not certain.'

  Peregrin nodded. 'Understood. What else?'

  ‘I can’t tell you the cause of death yet. He does smell strongly of whisky, so alcohol poisoning is on the cards, but it's also possible that he may have drowned. I'll need to open him up to get more clues. I do however agree with you that it looks as if he had some sort of physical device around his neck which stopped the whisky going below that. On the other hand, it definitely got into his ears and into his nose as well as his mouth. And then there's this.'

  She held up a small glass vial.

  'What have you got there?' he asked.

  She grinned. 'One pubic hair. Red. Jammed between two of his front upper teeth. You may well be looking for a redhead!' She shook her own shoulder length red locks theatrically. 'At least the man had taste!'

  Peregrin laughed. 'And what about the cloth behind the teeth?'

  'Ah. I decided to leave that until we get him back to the mortuary. I didn't want to risk losing any evidence onto the ground when I pulled it out. Although I should probably be using the word them rather than it. I think it's a pair of knickers.'

  Peregrin raised an eyebrow. 'A man of hidden depths, our Mr Holmes.'

  Felicity drove off back to the hospital, leaving Peregrin to catch up with his team. By the time they’d formally interviewed all the Crystal Street residents plus everyone in Delft, especially the children, it was 3 PM. They spent the rest of the day in the MIR writing up and comparing their notes.

  ‘Well,’ said Tony, ‘it’s a puzzler. Either people knew him and liked him, or didn’t know him at all. Who’d want to kill a bloke like that?’

  Peregrin just looked at him. ‘He was a successful, wealthy lawyer. I’ll bet there are plenty.’

  ◆◆◆

  Alan Nixon had dinner with his mother that evening.

  ‘I see Holmes is dead.’ he said simply.

  ‘So I believe.’ replied Emma. ‘Good isn’t it.’

  Alan took a sideways glance at her. ‘Was that the good thing you were promising?’

  She grinned broadly. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment. Another glass of wine dear?’

  11 Points of view

  Eight o'clock on Monday morning found Sally at her easel painting a grey, drizzly view from her lounge window. It found Peregrin cloistered with Felicity in the morgue, dressed in protective clothing, going over Holmes’s post mortem.

  ‘Sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday afternoon Fliss.’ he said. ‘I was busy interviewing the neighbours and collating the reports.’

  ‘No problem at all Perry, I wasn’t short of spectators. In fact your Senior Investigating Officer was here for most of it.’

  ‘Well, he likes to have a good body of work behind him.’ said Peregrin.

  ‘That’s a terrible joke!’ she laughed. 'But I'm still prepared to debrief you!'

  'Jolly D.’ he grinned.

  Felicity held up a sealed plastic bag. 'Item one, a pair of knickers, worn, retrieved from his mouth.'

  'When you say worn…'

  'As in dirty, not worn out.'

  'Ew.’ said Peregrin.

  ‘Mm.’ she agreed. 'I strongly suspect there were two separate times when they were in his mouth. There’s some whisky in them, as you'd expect in this particular case, but they're far from being soaked. Almost certainly they were put in after most of the whisky had drained out. On the other hand, there is a significant quantity of saliva in them as well, especially soaked into the gusset. Now that could not have happened after he died. At the very least, it tells us there was a third party involved.'

  'Next item.' she held up two more sealed plastic bags. 'This red pubic hair on my left I already told you about yesterday. During the post-mortem, I found this red head hair trapped in his flies. It was hard to see initially, as most of it was tucked inside his clothes.'

  Peregrin cocked his head to the side and nodded.

  'They might be from the same lady, they might not. We don't know yet.' added Felicity.

  'But definitely female?' asked Peregrin.

  'We can't really tell. It would be unlikely for the head hair to be male. It's shoulder length, has a very feminine wave, well-maintained ends and has a female brand of hairspray on it. So it could be male, it’s just unlikely. It's a bit the same for the pubic hair, we can't really tell, but it's in good condition so more likely to be female.'

  'That's a bit sexist isn’t it?' he grinned.

  'Nope.' she shot back. 'Just experience.'

  She gently shook the two bags. 'What I am certain of, is that both of these were naturally shed. You can tell by the roots. Neither of them was pulled out. So she didn't trap her hair in his zipper and have it yanked out. It either fell out or it was put there.'

  'Now that's an interesting thought.’ mulled Peregrin.

  Felicity put down the bags next to the knickers and drew back the sheet to display Holmes's upper body.

  'I can one hundred percent confirm your observation that the whisky ran only from a line on his neck, to just above his nose. It did run into his ears and soaked the lower hair on the back of his head. That strongly implies that his head was kept still, in one position. So either he was already unconscious, or he was restrained in some way.’

  ‘The latter seems most likely.’ she went on. ‘There are faint indications of bruising on the top of both wrists and on the front of both ankles. There are however, no abrasions. My assessment of these is complicated by something we'll come to later.’

  'The line around his neck is made up of the residue of some kind of glue. There are two distinct rings. The higher is narrower and I don’t know what it is yet. The lower one is a lot wider and I’m pretty sure it’s medical tape, like you can buy at the chemist. It’s something I’m familiar with of course, but we still need to run the tests.’

  Peregrin scratched his chin. 'Can you confirm how he died?'

  Felicity shook her head. 'It's genuinely really hard to tell. His blood alcohol levels are off the scale, more than enough to be fatal. On the other hand he does have a significant quantity of whisky in his lungs. They're not full of it, but they don't need to be. The larynx can go into spasm during drowning, an automated attempt to try and keep the water out. The only problem with that, is it's not one hundred percent effective and it tends to stop the lungs being able to take
in what oxygen there is. When the body finally dies, the muscles relax, and if it's under water the lungs are likely to start filling up at that point.'

  'What? You can't tell if somebody's drowned?'

  'It's notoriously difficult.' she shrugged. 'You tend to need additional evidence to make a more complete picture. Now we do have additional evidence, but if anything it complicates things, rather than making them clear. Here, give me a hand to flip him over.'

  Once Holmes was turned onto his front, Felicity withdrew the sheet completely.

  'Good God!' cried Peregrin. 'I didn't know he was into that!'

  Felicity smiled. 'Well, he was a lawyer wasn't he? Perhaps he felt he needed to atone for certain things, both done and undone.'

  'Point, point…' he replied.

  'Now, this is one hell of a mess, but I think I can make some sense of it. There’s deep underlying bruising throughout the buttocks. Judging by the colours, I'm guessing he got those four to five days before he died. These straight-line welts on the other hand, were done by a rod of some kind, most likely a cane. They’re much more recent, probably a couple of days before he died. I'm basing that on the scabs where the skin has split.’

  ‘Speaking of which, I think whoever did this had a sense of humour. If you look really carefully, underneath all these welts you can just make out what might be somebody playing noughts and crosses. If you join up those little scabs there, they make a sort of a circle. So do these ones here and those there.'

  Peregrin cut in. 'Is this what you meant when you talked about complications around the bruises on his wrists and ankles?'

  Felicity nodded. 'Exactly. Compared with this lot, they're really mild. It's possible they occurred while he was being hit on the bum, but it doesn't really fit. Given he had to have his buttocks exposed for the beatings, if there were to be any bruising on his ankles, it would be more likely to be at the back, not the front. That said, we do have something. Under the fingernails of both hands, are fine fragments of wood. Presumably he scratched whatever he was tied to while he was being killed. We’re having them analysed.'