Down Among the Dead Men (17 page)

She was a bit taken aback, but it was only a few moments before she said in her sing-song voice, ‘I could give it a go, Michelle.’

Clive was a bit sceptical when I told him the next morning as we sat in the office (me in Graham’s place now that he was on sick leave). ‘Maddie?’

‘She’s very keen.’

Clive is a nice bloke, but a bit old-fashioned. He reckoned that it was a man’s job being a mortuary technician and, even though I thought I’d proved myself now, he still had
reservations about me. ‘I suppose we could give her a month’s trial, if Ed agrees.’

‘She’ll be fine, Clive. Even if all she does is the paperwork, at least it’ll give you some more time in the PM room.’

But he was not about to be convinced easily and said doubtfully, ‘Maybe.’

Ed, though, was more upbeat. ‘If she wants to try it, why not? The lab isn’t too badly off for staff at the moment, so I reckon they could spare her.’

And so Maddie came to work down with the dead men.

THIRTY

Clive had decided that as part of my education I should attend an inquest and, accordingly, asked Ed Burberry if he would take me to one. Ed thought about this for a moment and
then said, ‘It so happens I’ve got the very one.’ He looked across the office and said to Clive, ‘It’s the hanging vet next week.’

Clive laughed delightedly. ‘Classic!’ he said. ‘Absolutely classic!’

‘Is that a good one to go to?’ I asked, suspecting some plot.

All Ed would say in reply was, ‘It should prove a little more interesting than the usual Drop Dead Freds.’

As we walked to his car on the morning of the inquest, Ed explained about the inquest process. ‘If after we’ve done a post-mortem, the cause of death is either
still unknown or is unnatural, then the Coroner has to hold an inquest. Our Coroner, Adrian Carter, is very good and will explain the purpose of the inquest, which is basically an inquiry to
determine certain facts about the death – who it was that died, when and where they died, and then how they died. It’s the “how” bit that takes the time. I might have a
medical cause of death, but he needs to discover what led up to it.’

We got in his car and, as he drove out of the car park, he continued. ‘He hears all the facts and then comes to a conclusion. He may decide the death was natural after all, or may decide
that it was accidental, or suicide, or an industrial disease, or even unlawful. He may not be able to decide definitely, in which case it’s an open verdict.

‘In most cases, the inquest is very quick – only half an hour – and uncontroversial; sometimes it’s just the Coroner, the Coroner’s officer, a reporter from the
local paper and me in the court, without even a relative bothering to turn up. Occasionally it’s a lot more complicated though; like this one.’ He grinned. ‘This one’s going
to be like a circus, with solicitors, barristers and all sorts.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Because Jane Mellors hanged herself in her garage in the nude.’

At which I gawped at him. ‘Nude?’

He nodded. ‘She was a vet,’ he added, as if that explained it. ‘She got out of bed in the middle of the night after a row with her husband and went down to the garage where she
put a rope around a rafter and stood on a stool.’ Well, I thought, each to their own. He carried on, ‘Add to that the fact that she was having marital problems because hubby was playing
away, and the family are convinced that he did it to her. They’ve got a barrister to represent them at the inquest, so the husband’s hired one as well; the family have accused the
police of negligence because they decided that she did it herself, so they, in turn, have got their solicitor in to protect their reputation.’

‘What do you think?’

‘She killed herself,’ he said with absolute confidence. ‘It’s bloody hard to hang someone who doesn’t want to be hanged.’

‘Perhaps he drugged her, or knocked her on the head.’

‘All the tox is negative and there was no other trauma. There were no bruises on her arms and no evidence that she had tried to remove the rope; her wrists hadn’t been tied, either.
I always check, just in case.’ He pulled into the car park outside the magistrates’ court where most of the inquests were held. ‘Here we are.’

As we walked over to the door to the court he said confidently, ‘I’m not going to have any problems with this one, you see.’

Poor Ed. His problems started almost at once, because he discovered that his secretary had accidentally sent him to the wrong place for the inquest. He should have been at the County Council
chamber, half an hour’s drive away. He made some desperate phone calls to Bill Baxford, apologizing mightily, then we rushed back to the car. During the journey he used some ripe language
about ‘cretinous secretaries’.

When we finally arrived, Bill Baxford was waiting just outside the court doors. ‘Hello, doc. We’ve started, but don’t worry, the Coroner understands.’

‘Thank God for that.’

‘There’s something else, though . . .’

Ed immediately became suspicious. ‘What?’

Bill’s a nice bloke; he was brilliant with the families and I had seen him almost in tears after interviewing them. He had a huge sense of humour, though, and was always ready to help if
he could. ‘The family’s barrister has been in to see the Coroner . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘She had some new information for him to consider. He thought you ought to know.’

Ed was looking more and more stressed. ‘Information? What information?’

But at that moment the clerk of the court came up to us. Ed was due in the witness box.

The small court room was packed. I just managed to squeeze in at the back. The Coroner was a large man with a round face and thick-rimmed glasses. He was dressed in a black three-piece suit and
had a laptop beside him, and a pad of paper in front of him. Opposite and below him at the front of the court was a row of five people, all smartly dressed. Behind them was what I assumed was the
family – some old, some young. Around me were police officers, paramedics and several others whose function I couldn’t guess. The witness box was on the left of the Coroner and Ed,
having recited the oath from memory with a Bible held high, announced who he was and what his qualifications were.

Then, at the Coroner’s request, he went through his PM report. It soon became clear that there were certain points the Coroner wanted to emphasize, because every so often he would stop Ed
and ask for clarification. ‘So, you examined the body very carefully for signs of trauma?’ ‘You’re absolutely certain that there were no scratch marks on the neck?’
‘There was no sign that the wrists had been tied?’

At the end of Ed’s evidence, the Coroner asked, ‘How long have you been a consultant pathologist, Dr Burberry?’

‘Twelve years.’

‘And how many autopsies have you performed in that time?’

‘I would say over two thousand.’

‘And how many hangings?’

‘Certainly over fifty. Maybe close to a hundred.’

The Coroner thanked him and then turned to the people immediately in front of him. ‘Miss Christy. Do you have any questions?’

A small young woman with long blonde hair stood up. She was dressed in a white blouse and a black suit. I thought she was very nervous, which surprised me. ‘Yes, I do, sir,’ she said
in a hesitant, almost trembling voice. Turning to Ed, she asked, ‘Mrs Mellors was naked.’

‘Apparently,’ he said.

‘Tell me, Dr Burberry. Have you ever before known a person to hang themselves in the nude?’

Ed considered this for a moment. ‘No. I think this was a first.’

‘Don’t you think it’s a little odd that Mrs Mellors should have chosen to hang herself when unclothed?’

The Coroner said at once, ‘Miss Christy, could I ask you what you consider to be an appropriate dress code for hanging yourself?’

She looked surprised. ‘Well, I don’t know . . .’

‘So, I’m sure we can’t read too much into the fact that she was unclothed, can we?’

She looked at him open-mouthed for a while, then agreed, ‘No, sir.’

‘Good. Carry on.’

It was obvious that she had to spend a few seconds pulling herself together before she asked, ‘You did toxicology, Dr Burberry?’

The Coroner said at once, ‘He’s told us that.’ He said it with a smile on his face, but I could tell from his voice he was annoyed.

‘Yes, sir,’ she said deferentially. To Ed she said, ‘And it was negative?’

‘Miss Christy . . .’ said the Coroner with a sigh.

Quickly she asked Ed, ‘What about insulin? Would the toxicology lab have been able to detect that?’

Ed was momentarily taken aback before saying, ‘To test for insulin is a specialized process. The blood sample has to be spun down in a centrifuge and frozen at once, otherwise the insulin
degrades.’

‘Did you do that?’

‘No.’

‘So it’s possible that Mrs Mellors was injected with insulin – say, between the toes – thus rendered unconscious, and then it would be straightforward to suspend her by
the neck. There would be no signs of a struggle.’

Ed considered this. ‘I suppose not.’

‘Did you check between the toes for injection marks?’

I could see that Ed was having trouble not smiling. ‘No.’

‘So what do have to say about this possibility?’

Ed’s smile broke out. ‘I can’t help feeling that it would be difficult to stick a needle between someone’s toes without them noticing. I should imagine it would sting a
bit.’

The Coroner’s smile said that he liked that answer. ‘Well, Miss Christy?’

She consulted her bits of paper. ‘Sir, I should like to bring into the record a letter the family have received from Mrs Fanshawe, who lives in Wales –’

‘Miss Christy,’ said the Coroner at once.

She stopped. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Does Mrs Fanshawe have some information of relevance to this case?’

‘The family believe so, sir.’

I thought the Coroner looked a little sceptical at this, but he nodded and said, ‘Very well.’

She turned back to Ed. ‘Mrs Fanshawe is a medium and she has received a message from Mrs Mellors in the afterlife to say that she did not take her own life. What do you say to that, Dr
Burberry?’

Before Ed could answer, the Coroner erupted. ‘Are you serious, Miss Christy? Do you really think I’m interested in what a clairvoyant has to say about the matter?’

‘Sir, I –’

‘Have you any other matters to raise, Miss Christy?’ He had on a dangerous smile again.

‘Well, sir –’

Expression unchanged, he interrupted. ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t raise anything that isn’t germane, Miss Christy.’

She looked for a moment as if she was going to push her luck but then she said, ‘No, sir,’ and sat down heavily.

That was that really. The husband’s barrister asked a few questions but I got the impression that he was just performing a bit to be seen to be doing something to earn
his wad of fifty-pound notes, and the police solicitor didn’t even bother to do that. There was a bit more fun to be had when the husband took the stand because, instead of cutting his wife
down straight away, he had gone next door to his neighbour for help. The family obviously thought that this was as good as a signed confession, but the Coroner was of the opinion that, since the
husband was also a vet, he would know a dead person when he saw one.

After two and a half hours, the Coroner told everyone he was going to go away and consider his verdict, everyone stood and then the whole atmosphere became a bit less formal. Ed came over to
join me and asked what I thought. I didn’t really know; half of me thought it was pretty much as I had expected, but the other half was surprised by it. ‘Isn’t there a
jury?’

Ed explained that unless there were special circumstances, such as the death occurring in prison, or on railway property, then it was at the discretion of the Coroner.

‘What do you think he’ll decide?’

‘I’m afraid it’ll be an open verdict.’

‘Is that bad?’

‘It might give the family the idea that there is still some question about the husband’s involvement.’

The Coroner returned after an hour and then spent thirty minutes summing up all the evidence in great detail. As Ed had predicted, he did return an open verdict but he said in no uncertain terms
that this was not because there was a shred of evidence that Mr Mellors or anyone else had had some involvement, it was merely because he couldn’t be absolutely sure that she had intended to
kill herself, and the possibility that it might have been a cry for help that went wrong could not be excluded.

I watched the family and could see how dissatisfied they were. When I told Ed on the way back to the mortuary, he shrugged. ‘What can we do? People believe what they want to
believe.’

THIRTY-ONE

I’d never really thought about how pathologists are trained, especially when it comes to doing autopsies. I was aware that they had to be a doctor to start off with, but
it all turned out to be quite complicated as Ed explained one day in late October when he came down to the mortuary office to inform us that in two weeks’ time two candidates for membership
of the Royal College of Pathologists would be joining us for the day. Clive rolled his eyes. ‘This is part of their final examination,’ Ed explained. ‘If they pass this, then they
become members of the College and are eligible to become consultant pathologists.’

Maddie asked, ‘What else do they have to do?’

With a perfectly straight face, he said, ‘In this exam? After they’ve performed a complete post-mortem, evisceration included, been orally examined on it, then written it up, they
return for two more days during which they’ll have a three-hour examination reporting surgical pathology, a two-hour examination reporting cytology cases, a two-hour examination reporting
special cases, be examined on how well they cut up surgical resection specimens, be examined on whether they can accurately report frozen sections, and then they have a final oral test.’

Maddie is not one to be impressed and hides it well when she is, but I could see that she was a bit taken aback by this and might have said more; I, though, was totally lost, and had been so
after the second exam was mentioned. Clive interrupted then and stopped Ed in his tracks. ‘Which doesn’t involve us, it’s only the PM side we have to concern ourselves with,
Maddie.’ He sounded cross. ‘I hope this isn’t going to be like the last time, Ed.’