Heaven Knows Who

by Christianna Brand

  The report was signed by Drs Fleming and Macleod, after the customary phrase, ‘This is the truth on soul and conscience.’ So it doubtless was; but as it transpires on not a great deal of sense.

  Mr Gifford resumed his examination. Had Dr Fleming formed any opinion as to whether the bed had been slept in?

  Dr Fleming said that it would be difficult to form an opinion but he thought it highly probable that it had been slept in.

  The sheet referred to in his original report—the sheet that was found rolled up under the wash-stand—appeared to have been washed but it had, notwithstanding, a large quantity of blood in the centre.

  ‘Did you draw any inference from that?’

  ‘The inference which I drew was that the sheet belonged to the bed and that it had been taken from it. I don’t know whether there was any sheet on the bed or not. The impression upon my mind is that there was no sheet on the bed.’

  The witness had noticed the two pillows which were ‘scattered about the bed along with the bedclothes’. There were large marks of blood on them. There seemed to be large spots of blood on the floor; and all round the table in the middle of the room—a mahogany table, four or five feet square—there were marks of blood. The body was lying between the table and the bed. There was a track, about the breadth of a body, partly blood, partly ‘just marks of streaking’, between the bedroom and the kitchen. It became apparent in the course of their examination, said the witness, that the body had been dragged through from the kitchen (where evidence of a severe conflict was obtained) along the lobby to the apartment where it was found, and also that imperfect attempts had been made to obliterate traces of this removal.

  Mr Gifford, for the prosecution: ‘You say that in the kitchen there was evidence of a severe conflict having taken place. What was the nature of that evidence?’

  ‘There were blood-stains upon the end of the jaw-box at the inner side of the kitchen door.’

  ‘But what led you to say that there had been a severe conflict?’

  ‘These marks were principally upon the flags.’

  ‘How did that show there had been a severe conflict?—the dragging of the body was not a sign of severe conflict; I therefore want to know what marks of a severe conflict were apparent to you, before the dragging commenced.’

  ‘My conclusion that there was a severe conflict was founded upon the streaks upon the kitchen floor.’

  ‘I again ask, what were the marks of a severe conflict before the dragging took place?’

  ‘There were regular marks as if caused by some rough substance.’

  Lord Deas put an end to this curious exchange—in which the answers certainly appear to have had very little connection with the questions—by observing that the remark in Dr Fleming’s report about ‘evidence of a severe conflict’ just confirmed what he had already said as to the introduction of matter not proper to a medical report.

  So that was one up to Lord Deas.

  Cross-examined by Mr Clark, the police surgeon said that the blood on the mattress was on ‘the upper part of the bed’; this, if he meant the pillow end which he presumably did, might well be significant but it wasn’t quite clear. The sheet was quite damp and appeared to have been washed—the sheet that was found rolled up under the wash-stand, that is—but was very much blood-stained.

  ‘Was there any appearance of the deceased’s person having been washed?’

  ‘The face, neck and upper part of the chest appeared to have been washed.’

  The kitchen floor had the appearance of having been washed between the sink and the lobby; and between the kitchen and the bedroom, but stopping at the bedroom door, there was a distinct appearance of the ‘pavement’ having been washed.

  ‘When you saw these places in the kitchen and the lobby washed—were they dry or moist?’

  ‘The lobby was perfectly moist; it was very damp as if it had been washed recently. The kitchen was drier, but still there was a damp appearance.’ (This was at half-past five on the Monday afternoon, fifty or sixty hours after the murder.)

  ‘When you say washed recently, what do you mean? What time do you mean?’

  ‘It had a damp appearance as if it had been recent.’

  Lord Deas: ‘You are asked how recently. Was it an hour or a day before?’

  ‘It might have been a day before from appearance.’

  ‘Did the lobby and kitchen seem to have been done together?’

  ‘They had the appearance of not having been done the same day but that would depend much on the stone.’

  ‘Was the appearance of the two stones different?’

  ‘They might be.’ (In fact they were the same.)

  As to whether or not the washing could have been done on the same day, he said, that would depend a good deal on the state of the kitchen fire. When he saw it, it was burning. The moist part in the kitchen would be seven or eight feet distant from the fire, the part he had looked at particularly would be ten or twelve feet distant. There was only one moist patch.

  And there was blood on the door. ‘It was a mark of blood of such a description as if a brush had been steeped in blood and drawn across the back and post of the door.’ Another way of accounting for the mark could be that a bloody dress might have come across it. Any part of a woman’s dress.

  Mr Clark: ‘Any bloody cloth would do it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was it a very obvious mark?’

  ‘It was a very obvious mark.’

  ‘Was the door opposite to the window?’

  ‘No, it was on the right-hand side.’

  ‘But there was plenty of light showered from the window upon it?’

  ‘There was a large kitchen table between the window and the door, which somewhat darkened it.’

  ‘But there was plenty of light to see the marks?’

  ‘If your eye had been turned in that direction they might have been seen at once.’

  ‘You say that it was an obvious mark?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that there was plenty of light to see it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  And there were marks upon the ‘jaw-box’, the end of which faced the window; which marks were ‘quite distinct and obvious’.

  But as to the remarkable bruise on the dead woman’s back reported by Dr Ebenezer Watson, this was not so distinct and obvious, in fact Dr Fleming couldn’t recall having seen a bruise there; and from the fact that he had not made a note of it, he ‘rather thought’ it could not have been there at all.

  It may be convenient to take the evidence of Dr Macleod at this point, though in fact it was given considerably later—presumably only for some outside reason, for it naturally reflects upon the foregoing. Dr Macleod had been called in late on the Monday evening and did not get to the Sandyford Place till after eleven; he had had a look round and then left, returning the following day to make the post mortem examination with Dr Fleming and compile the report with him.

  Counsel for the Crown took him through the report. ‘You say, “The neck and chest appear to have been partially washed.” Well, can you explain more minutely what that means?’

  ‘Yes. The neck and chest had apparently been cleaned to a certain extent; still there was the appearance of blood round the circumference of the washed part and it had not been entirely cleared of its bloody appearance. I cannot very well explain it in any other way than that.’

  ‘What I want to know is, whether did water appear to be used or did it appear as if it had been with a cloth?’

  ‘My impression was that water had been used.’

  ‘I wish to draw your attention to this statement in the report: “On further examination it became apparent that the body had been dragged from the kitchen (which lies at the back of the house) and where evidence of a severe struggle was obtained.” Does this statement mean that the struggle took place in the kitchen?’

  ‘Yes, in or about the kitchen.’

  ‘And in what consists the evi
dence?’

  The witness went off into a long description of the condition of the kitchen and of the lobby, stairs, etc. Lord Deas started to ask him about the blood-stains on the lower part of the stairs, and when he answered, pulled him up and told him to confine himself to a description of what he had seen in’ the kitchen. What the witness had seen in the kitchen, apart from the blood on the sink and inside the door post, he described as follows: ‘Upon the washed portion of the floor there were considerable stains; it was quite apparent to me (he went down on his knees and “let a light fall upon them”) that they were the marks of blood. They were greasy and had the reddish look of imperfectly effaced blood. Around the circumference of the part of the floor that had been washed, there were impressions on the floor which I was then convinced and am now convinced had been footmarks—confused footmarks. If I might be allowed to explain exactly what I mean by footmarks, they were the marks of a sort of twist or turn of the heels on the floor; and the ball of a foot had also left its mark on the stones.’

  And there were wounds upon the hands and wrists of the deceased, he said, which he thought could only be accounted for by the deceased having endeavoured to protect herself in a struggle with another person.

  ‘And that tended to confirm your opinion?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Dr Macleod was more positive than Dr Fleming about the ‘remarkable bruise’. He had twice examined the body and had taken careful notes. There was no such mark.

  They came to the footsteps in the bedroom. Dr Macleod had advised that the pieces of flooring containing the two best marked, should be cut out and they were now produced in court. He described his comparisons of the prints with those of the dead woman and old Fleming: but the dead woman’s foot was longer and broader, larger in every way, and the old man’s feet were ‘so perfectly different that I did not think it necessary to compare them minutely.’

  ‘Is there any peculiarity about old James Fleming’s feet?’

  ‘Yes; his is a flat foot.’

  Lord Deas: ‘In contradistinction to what?’

  ‘A high sole.’

  A slight breeze arose when counsel asked if the witness had compared the prisoner’s feet with the footprints on the flooring. The witness was withdrawn while Mr Clark asked what Mr Gifford meant by that question. But Mr Gifford said he had put the question only to see if the witness had, from the examination, formed any opinion as to whether the footprints could have been made by the feet of the prisoner; and Mr Clark said that if that was all, he had no objection. The answer was that comparison showed that the footprints on the floor could have been made by the accused.

  Cross-examined, Dr Macleod said that the marks of dragging in the lobby appeared to have been rubbed over, whether with or without water he could not say. In the kitchen, the floor had been washed.

  ‘I forget, Doctor, did you take the hour at which you reached the house?’ (i.e., on the Monday night).

  ‘We have that already,’ said the judge. ‘It was eleven o’clock.’

  But the witness had not examined the floor of the kitchen until Tuesday morning. It had then been dry—‘dry and glazed as if it had been washed.’

  Mr Clark took the witness back to the footprints again. Yes, the footprint of the deceased was larger than the marks, ‘and I might add that there was a decided bunion on the left foot of the deceased which would have left its mark.’

  ‘Look at the impression on the board. I have to ask whether the fact of the impression being smaller than the deceased’s foot may be accounted for by the impression being imperfect?’

  ‘I think not, because the person by whom these impressions have been made has been leaning upon the foot and standing. In taking the measure of the foot of the deceased, it could only be done by pressing paper against the foot without there being the weight of the body upon it, and if the foot was so much larger without the pressure of the body, if pressed this way on wood, I would argue a fortiori that it would have been still greater.’

  ‘Is there no defect in that impression as to the size of the foot from the whole of the impression not being left?’

  ‘This footprint was cut out of part of the floor so close to the window that the person who left the impression must have been standing. It is not the impression of a person walking, which is a more imperfect impression than that made when standing.’

  ‘You don’t understand my meaning. May the foot that made the impression not have been longer than the impression now left?’

  ‘Not very much.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it was clear when I examined it first.’

  ‘Was it perfect at the toes and heels?’

  ‘It was very perfect, considering all things.’

  Finally Dr Macleod conceded that though all the vital injuries must have been caused by a heavy, edged instrument such as the cleaver, this was true only of the vital ones—those on the right side of the head and below the right ear.

  The bite marks on the prisoner’s hand, this prosecution witness most frankly said were not the marks of human teeth—he had compared them with the teeth of the deceased—and were consistent with her own story of having been nipped by her dog.

  Alexander M’Call, Assistant Superintendent of Police in Glasgow, had arrived at the house at about half-past nine in the evening bringing with him two assistants. In the bedroom, he said, the part of the floor in front of the cupboard opposite the door, seemed to have been washed, though it was then dry. It was white and clean, whereas if it had been washed a considerable time before, it would have been like the rest of the flooring. The blood on the kitchen door was quite obvious to him. He had noted the bloody footmarks in the bedroom and had had the pieces of flooring cut out. He described his famous experiment with the piece of stick. He could not tell the learned judge what were the comparative lengths of the dead woman’s foot and that of the footprints, but by keeping his ‘finger and thumb in the place’ he had satisfied himself and presumably hoped to satisfy the court, that the feet of the deceased could not have made the prints—they were half an inch longer. ‘I did it with a piece of stick. I laid it upon the impression.’

  ‘Was that all the material upon which you formed your judgement?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You hadn’t even a footrule?’ said Mr Clark.

  ‘No,’ said Assistant Superintendent Alexander M’Call.

  Detective Officer Donald Campbell had also compared the prints with the assistance of his little ‘spale’. He was all for producing this in court, but counsel for the defence seemed to have some fussy notion about the inadmissibility of exhibits of which no one had ever heard, being produced without warning from the witness’s pocket. Anyway, he agreed with the earlier witnesses that ‘by the length of the foot-mark’ the print could not have been made by the deceased.

  Detective Officer Campbell, in fact, was a really splendid witness. In the full light of the Monday afternoon, at half-past five, he had examined the kitchen floor and where all the other witnesses had seen the large damp patch, had found it ‘quite dry at the time and it appeared as if it might have been done a couple of days previously.’ It did not appear (despite Doctors Fleming and Macleod and their evidence of ‘a severe struggle’) to have been much trodden upon since it had been washed.

  Mr Clark: ‘Did you notice any blood on the kitchen floor?’

  ‘Well, I did not.’ But, he acknowledged, the floor had a greasy appearance in parts where it had been washed up, and had a reddish tinge upon it as from a greasy substance.

  ‘Did it appear as if blood had been washed from off the floor?’

  ‘That was my impression at the time.’

  The lobby, however, he said, did not appear to have been washed.

  He was left in the house that night, and had searched the house. So it was he, presumably, who kept the kitchen fire so merrily burning and with it all evidence that might have been in process of incineration there; and who missed the bloo
d-stained hammer on the kitchen dresser. It was not till the following Saturday that the Sheriff’s Officer, M’Laughlin, turned up to make further investigations, and so discovered the hammer, and sifted the—now meaningless—ashes in the grate.

  This ended, to all intents and purposes, the prosecution’s evidence as to the condition of the body and of the scene where it was discovered; except for confirmation about the key of the pantry which was duly proved to have fitted the bedroom lock. Superintendent M’Call described the chest in the bedroom which he had found closed but—the catch being broken—unlocked; and which had been raked through by ‘a bloody hand’ and left almost empty. There was a small bandbox, broken open, blood-stained and also empty, inside the chest. And Detective Officer Campbell had found blood spots in the middle of old Mr Fleming’s ‘wardrobe room’ across the passage from the kitchen.

  ‘Did you find anything in the room where old Mr Fleming kept his clothes?’

  ‘Yes, I found some shirts in a chest of drawers with spots of blood on them.’

  Lord Deas: ‘With spots of blood on them, you say?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Lord Deas: ‘Do you say that these were found in a drawer pointed out by old Mr Fleming?’

  The detective had said absolutely nothing of the kind; he said, in fact, no more than the above sentence, ‘I found some shirts in a chest of drawers with spots of blood on them’; so this attempt to give the old innocent a gratuitous pat on the back for speaking up did not come off. One drawer of the chest had been locked and Mr Fleming on request had handed over a bunch of keys, one of which opened the drawer. It was the only thing in the room that was locked.

  And the officer had found in a cellar, or cellars, a number of cloths which could have been used to clean up the blood, though they showed no marks of blood. On the other hand, they were still wet.

  The Superintendent had had a word with old Mr Fleming that Monday evening. ‘He made a statement to me.’

  Mr Clark: ‘What did he say?’