Dead and Gone

by Dorothy Simpson

  ‘Quite possibly.’

  They stood back and he and Lineham studied the well cover which was leaning against the low wall. It was made of varnished lightweight wood with a semicircular metal handle at each side to facilitate removal. When in position it rested on a narrow ledge fashioned around the inner rim of the wall.

  ‘How did you say it’s secured?’ said Lineham to Digby, who was watching them with the same sardonic twist to his mouth.

  ‘There’s a chain over on the far side permanently attached to the wall. When the cover’s put back on you just run the chain through the two handles and padlock it to that staple, on this side.’

  The padlock was hooked through the staple, hanging open, key still in the lock. ‘Simple but effective,’ said Thanet. ‘Where is that key normally kept? Somewhere handy, I imagine, if both you and Mrs Mintar had to have easy access to it.’

  ‘On a bit of wire hooked over the rim of the bucket.’

  The courtyard was suddenly full of noise and bustle as Scenes-of-Crime Officers, firemen and ambulancemen arrived simultaneously. Samples of blood were taken from the smear on the coping and then the well cover was carefully removed and stored in one of the SOCOs’ cardboard boxes.

  ‘D’you think we’ll be likely to get any useful prints off it?’ Thanet asked the SOCO sergeant.

  The man shrugged. ‘We might. Fortunately it’s not rough wood, the surface is smooth and it’s been varnished. When did the victim go missing?’

  ‘Last night,’ said Lineham. ‘Around ten, we think.’

  ‘In that case you might be in luck. If it had rained between then and now . . .’

  ‘They’d have been washed off.’

  ‘In effect, yes. It’s the salts in sweat that create the prints and as rain would interact with them, either there wouldn’t be any prints left or not enough to be useful.’

  ‘Why are you taking the well cover away?’

  Thanet hadn’t noticed Mintar come up behind them.

  ‘To test it for fingerprints, sir.’

  ‘Why can’t that be done on the spot? We can’t have the well left uncovered, it’s too dangerous.’

  Thanet and Lineham looked at the SOCO sergeant, who said, ‘It’s best done in the lab, sir.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’ll be done by the superglue method.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘We put the article in a cubicle and suspend it from a wooden pole, rather like hanging washing out to dry. Then a small “boat” – a round metal tray two to three inches in diameter – with superglue in it is placed below it and heated. The fumes rise and attach themselves to the article and in fifteen to twenty minutes the fingerprints will show.’

  ‘A pointless exercise in this case, if you ask me,’ said Mintar. ‘It’ll be covered with prints.’

  ‘You never know, sir,’ said Lineham. ‘In any case, we can’t afford to miss the chance of getting a useful result.’

  ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to take the prints of everyone who was here last night,’ said Thanet. ‘And of Digby, of course.’ How could he put this tactfully? ‘Look, sir, I’m sorry, I should have said so earlier, but I’d be grateful if you would make it clear to the family that this courtyard is temporarily out of bounds.’

  Mintar gave a bitter laugh. ‘That includes me, I suppose. Very well.’ He turned away. ‘But if that lid is going to be missing for any length of time,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘just make sure you supply us with a temporary cover. We don’t want any more accidents.’

  ‘Just as a matter of interest,’ said Lineham to the SOCO sergeant, ‘how on earth did anyone discover you could use superglue like that?’

  The sergeant grinned. ‘Pure chance. Some characters working in a photographic department broke a plastic tray. They wanted to use it, so they stuck it together with superglue. The room was hot and when they came in next day they found the whole room plastered with visible fingerprints.’

  The firemen’s chief approached. ‘We’re ready to start the lifting operation now, Inspector.’

  As there was very little water in the well they had decided a wet suit would not be necessary. Thanet and Lineham watched as a fireman in protective clothing and waders was fastened into a cradle and lowered down into the well at the end of a rope, carrying a sling in which to raise the body.

  It was a lengthy operation and Mallard arrived well before they were finished. ‘It’s Mrs Mintar down there, I gather,’ he said after they had greeted each other.

  ‘Yes. D’you know her personally?’

  ‘I’ve met her once or twice, but only casually. What’s the story?’

  Thanet told him the little they knew. ‘We haven’t started interviewing yet. I wanted to see her brought up first.’

  ‘How’s Bridget?’ The little doctor was a longstanding family friend and had watched Thanet’s children grow up. Childless himself, he had always taken a keen interest in their welfare and especially in Bridget since his second marriage to Helen Fields the cookery writer. Bridget was also a professional cook and she and Helen had spent a lot of time together, concocting and testing new recipes.

  Thanet grimaced. ‘Not good, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You must be worried stiff. Which hospital is she in?

  ‘The West Middlesex.’

  ‘Good. That has an excellent ultrasound department. What’s happening at the moment?’

  ‘Well, they were concerned about the blood flow, apparently, so yesterday she was taken over to Queen Charlotte’s, where they have a foetal assessment unit, whatever that means.’

  ‘It means they have the most up-to-date equipment to measure the baby’s heart-rate, its growth, the blood flow in the cord and also to carry out the latest and most sophisticated test, measurement of the baby’s cerebral blood flow.’

  ‘Well, all those tests were apparently normal.’

  ‘Excellent! That’s great news.’

  ‘So she was taken back to the West Middlesex and we’re waiting to see what happens next. What is that most likely to be, do you think?’

  ‘I’d imagine she’d have two steroid injections, twelve hours apart, to mature the baby’s lungs, just in case it has to be induced early. It’ll take forty-eight hours or so for the lungs to mature, then it’ll have a reasonably good chance of survival.’

  ‘What do you mean by “reasonably good”?’

  But Thanet wasn’t to find out. While they were talking the fireman who had gone down the well had been brought back up to the surface and now they began slowly to haul up the body. In a few minutes they would see her properly for the first time. Thanet braced himself as he moved forward with Lineham and Mallard, conscious of the familiar symptoms: increased heart-rate, sweaty palms, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Nothing he could do, nothing he could tell himself, ever seemed to cushion the ripples of horror and dismay he invariably felt during these few moments. There was something so infinitely pathetic about the body of someone who had met a violent end. He had heard people who worked in hospices say that death could be a peaceful, even uplifting affair, but that could surely never be true for those who went unprepared to their graves. Thanet could do nothing to change that but he could and did vow afresh each time that he would do his level best to ensure that those deaths should not go unavenged.

  And here she came, a limp, lifeless, sodden bundle. Gentle gloved hands reached out to protect her body from further damage as she was lifted over the wall and laid on the waiting stretcher. Thanet took several deep, unobtrusive breaths. Gradually the pounding in his ears subsided and he began to absorb what he was seeing. At first he was puzzled. Although he was certain they had never met, she looked vaguely familiar. Then he realised that it was her likeness to Rachel which was confusing him. Although disfigured by smears of dirt and an extensive graze on one side of her forehead, here were the same oval face, same bone structure, same slim, shapely body, its more mature curves mercilessly exposed to public gaze by the v
irtually transparent nature of the wet, clinging silk of the fuschia pink blouse and matching palazzo pants she was wearing. No underwear, Thanet noted.

  ‘What a waste,’ said one of the firemen. ‘A real looker, wasn’t she?’

  ‘You’ll go down again?’ said Thanet to the man who had rescued her. ‘I’d like a thorough search of the bottom of the well.’

  The fireman nodded. ‘Sure.’

  Photographs taken, Thanet and Lineham waited while Doc Mallard finished his examination of the body. But the little doctor was unwilling to commit himself as to cause of death. ‘You’ll have to wait for the PM, I’m afraid.’

  ‘But at a guess?’

  The doctor struggled up. Thanet and Lineham knew better than to offer a helping hand and a fireman who did not was simply ignored. ‘Well, as you can see for yourself it looks as though she might have banged her head on the parapet as she went over and this could well have knocked her out. Then I’d say she probably drowned. If so, the diatom test will confirm it.’

  Thanet escorted Mallard back to his car then returned to the courtyard.

  ‘More or less what we expected,’ said Lineham.

  ‘Mmm. Better ask Mr Mintar if he wants to see his wife before they take her away, I suppose.’

  They found him in the kitchen. Someone had cleared up in here since last night, Thanet noticed. Mintar had been watching proceedings from the window and not surprisingly declined Thanet’s invitation. ‘I don’t want to see her like that.’

  ‘There’s the matter of formal identification, sir.’

  ‘Later, if you don’t mind. When . . . when you’ve . . . When she’s been . . .’

  ‘I understand. If we could just ask you a few questions, then, sir?’

  ‘Better come into the study.’

  THREE

  Mintar’s study was exactly as Thanet would have expected: spacious, book-lined, carpeted, well equipped with leather-topped desk, computer equipment and expensive dark green leather desk chair. His profession was immediately obvious from the serried ranks of bound law reports, copies of Archbold and Current Law Statutes and from the fat briefs tied up with distinctive red tape piled on the desk. Cardboard boxes stacked up along one wall presumably contained even fatter briefs. Thanet was well aware of the quantity of paperwork generated by a complicated case.

  A large tabby cat lying on the desk sat up and turned to look at them as they came in.

  Mintar walked around the desk and, scooping up the cat in what was clearly an habitual gesture, slumped into his chair and stared at a photograph in front of him. He seemed unaware of the two policemen.

  The cat turned around three times and then settled down and started to purr.

  Absent-mindedly Mintar began to stroke it.

  Thanet cleared his throat, but Mintar did not respond. ‘May we sit down, sir?’

  With a visible effort the barrister dragged his eyes away from the photograph.

  Thanet repeated his request and Mintar stared at him for a moment as if he were speaking in a foreign language. Then he blinked and waved a hand in invitation. ‘Please do.’

  Thanet drew a chair up in front of the desk and Lineham seated himself discreetly off to one side.

  Mintar had returned to gazing at the photograph and suddenly he leaned forward, swung it around to face them and said savagely, ‘That’s why I didn’t want to see her just now. That’s what she was really like. And that’s how I want to remember her.’

  It was an enlargement of a family snap: Mintar, his wife and Rachel in tennis gear, arms linked and exuding enjoyment and well-being.

  Virginia Mintar had indeed been a beautiful woman, Thanet thought. With their classical features, long blonde hair and slender figures, she and Rachel looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. ‘Yes, I can understand that. Look, sir, I really am sorry to have to bother you at a time like this, but I’m sure you realise I have no choice.’

  Mintar swung the photograph back around and returned to stroking the cat. ‘Of course. By all means, proceed.’

  ‘If we could begin by your telling me about yesterday?’

  ‘Right. Yes.’ A pause, while Mintar collected his thoughts.

  As Mrs Mintar senior had told them, Jane Simons, Virginia Mintar’s sister, and her boyfriend Arnold Prime were down for the weekend. They had arrived on Friday evening and as it was Prime’s first visit to Kent, Jane and the Mintars had wanted to show him something of the county. Yesterday morning Ralph Mintar and his wife had taken them to visit the world-famous gardens created by Vita Sackville-West at Sissinghurst and in the afternoon Jane and Arnold had gone off by themselves to visit Leeds Castle, reputedly ‘the most beautiful castle in the world’. The Mintars had stayed at home to play tennis with their next-door neighbours, the Squires, as they often did at weekends.

  ‘My wife is . . . was, a very good player. She took it very seriously, always had coaching during the winter months, to keep her standard up.’ Mintar gave a wistful smile. ‘She was a great keep fit enthusiast. Belonged to a Health Club.’

  They would return to Virginia Mintar later. At the moment Thanet wanted to get the facts clear in his head. ‘So this tennis party would have finished at what time?’

  ‘Around 4.30,1 suppose.’

  They had then had a cup of tea together before the Squires returned home. Normally that would have been the last the Mintars saw of them that day, but as Jane and Arnold were staying, Virginia Mintar had thought it would be pleasant to have an informal supper party. The Squires had therefore been invited to return later.

  ‘They are close friends?’

  ‘Depends what you mean by “close”. They are our nearest neighbours, we’re on good terms with them and we do see quite a lot of them, yes, especially as we all enjoy a game of tennis. But that’s as far as it goes.’

  ‘So who would you say is your wife’s closest friend?’

  ‘Susan Amos,’ said Mintar promptly.

  Lineham took down her address.

  ‘So what time did the Squires return last night?’

  Mintar grimaced. ‘They were uncomfortably prompt. Supper was to be around a quarter to eight and they were supposed to arrive in time for a drink beforehand. In fact they got here at about 7.15. Ginny was a bit put out, she hadn’t finished the watering. It didn’t matter too much, of course, as we know them well. It was just a bit inconvenient.’

  ‘Where were you when they arrived?’

  ‘Having a shower.’

  ‘So you didn’t see what your wife did in the courtyard after the Squires arrived? You don’t know, for instance, whether or not she replaced the well cover before coming in?’

  ‘No. You’d have to ask them. I only knew she hadn’t finished the watering because she told me so, when she came up to let me know they were here. She asked me to remind her to do it later.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘No. I’m afraid I forgot.’

  ‘And where were your sister-in-law and Mr Prime at the time?’

  Mintar shrugged. ‘In their room, I assume. They didn’t get back from Leeds Castle until around 6.30, so I imagine they were changing. They came downstairs ten or fifteen minutes after me.’

  ‘Miss Simons works in London?’

  ‘Yes. In IT. She does something very sophisticated with computers, don’t ask me what, it’s far too technical for me to understand. Earns a fortune.’

  ‘And Mr Prime?’

  ‘He’s a dentist.’

  ‘Ah.’ Why was it that dentists had such a bad press? Thanet wondered. Probably because everyone associated them with pain.

  ‘Anyway, I hurried to finish dressing and joined Ginny and the Squires on the terrace for drinks.’ He shrugged. ‘Then the others came down and in a little while we had supper. We ate outside, it was such a beautiful evening.’ His mouth twisted.

  His wife’s last, he must be thinking. ‘When did Rachel and her fiancé arrive?’

  Mintar gave a frown of displeasure
. ‘They weren’t here for supper. They’d been out somewhere and they arrived just as we were finishing coffee.’

  ‘What time would that have been?’

  ‘Somewhere around half past nine, I should think. They’d come for a swim. They urged us all to join them. We’d only had a light meal, it was too hot to eat much, so most people said they would.’

  ‘Not you, though.’

  ‘No. I’d had one swim already, after playing tennis, and didn’t particularly want to go in again. And in any case, as I told you last night, I had work to do, so I had a good excuse. Mother wasn’t interested either.’

  ‘So then what happened? If you could tell me in detail from here on, please.’

  ‘We all got up from the table and everyone picked up something to carry into the kitchen – everyone who had eaten, that is. And we all trailed one behind the other along the corridor to the kitchen, dumped whatever we were carrying on the work surfaces and dispersed.’

  ‘And what time was this?’

  A moment’s thought. ‘Around ten to ten, I should think.’

  ‘Where, exactly, did you disperse to?’

  ‘I can’t say for certain. Howard and Marilyn went home to change, I know that, but then I left to come in here. I assume Mother went back to the annexe and Jane and Arnold went upstairs, but I can’t be certain.’

  ‘And your wife?’

  Mintar frowned. ‘Again, I can’t be sure. I imagine she would have stayed behind to load the dishwasher and clear things away in the kitchen – she liked to keep things neat and tidy.’

  ‘So she wouldn’t have been likely to leave the job half finished?’

  ‘Definitely not, no. Why? Did she?’

  ‘You didn’t notice, then? She hadn’t finished loading the dishwasher.’

  ‘I’m afraid I was in no state to take in domestic details like that last night, Inspector. But under normal circumstances she certainly wouldn’t have left the job half done.’

  It was obvious that they were all thinking the same thing: but these circumstances were far from normal.

  ‘Something must have interrupted her, then,’ said Mintar, eyes narrowed. ‘But what?’