The Coroner (48 page)

    'So
the police should be looking for someone trained in these techniques?'

    'It would
make sense.'

    Jenny
lapsed into silence for a moment, sorting through the jumbled chronology in her
mind. She remembered Katy's body was found on Monday 30 April, day one of
Marshall's inquest into Danny's death. Peterson carried out the postmortem the
next day, 1 May, and on the following day Marshall wrote out a death
certificate without sight of a written report.

    Jenny
said, 'What do you know about Peterson?'

    'In
what sense?'

    'You
can't believe he didn't spot any of this, but he let a death certificate be
written two days after the body was found.'

    'I
hardly know the man, Mrs Cooper, and I won't speculate, but I've no reason to
think he's negligent. . .'

    'You're
trying to tell me something, why not just say it?'

    He
sighed, troubled by the implications of professional betrayal, but his
expression said his conscience was winning.

    'As
you probably know, pathologists dictate their notes as they carry out their
examinations, though invariably on antiquated equipment. Perhaps if the tape of
his original examinations were to be found ... ?'

    'You
think he carried out more than one?'

    'I
was thinking of Danny Wills. As I recall, Dr Peterson's post-mortem report was
remarkably brief, at least that was the impression I got from the newspaper. In
the absence of physical remains, his tape would be the next best thing.'

    She
looked at him; deep frown lines creased his forehead.

    He
said, 'You must think me an unforgivable coward for not mentioning this more
publicly. I do apologize.'

    'What
do you expect me to do with this
speculation?'

    'Having
got in this deep, I assumed—'

    'That
I'd be prepared to drown?'

    Professor
Lloyd said, 'You give the impression of being a very brave woman, Mrs Cooper.'

    Alison
sounded shocked to hear her voice over the intercom and hesitated for a moment
before buzzing her into the office, telling her that Moreton had left
instructions that she wasn't to be allowed on the premises. Jenny said the
premises weren't Moreton's to exclude her from, they belonged to the local
authority.

    She
stepped into reception to find Alison hovering anxiously in front of her desk,
the accounts file spread out behind her.

    'You
left without saying anything last night.'

    Apologetic,
Alison said, 'I didn't know what to say.'

    'As
it turns out, goodbye might have been a bit premature.'

    A
look of surprise, then alarm flashed across Alison's face. 'What's happened?'

    'Professor
Lloyd called me. I've been to see him. He thinks Katy's injuries bear all the
hallmarks of control and restraint techniques. I guess you know all about
those?'

    She
nodded. 'What's he telling you this for now?'

    'It's
all off the record but he wondered if there might not be a connection with
Danny's death - he's been following the story.'

    'What's
he thinking of?'

    'He
wasn't explicit, and he doesn't know that Katy reported Danny's trouble with a
member of staff to Justin Bennett. But what I think he's saying is that
Peterson has shown himself to be rather short on detail in both Katy's and
Danny's cases. That if anything's been hidden he'll know about it.'

    'But
there's nothing you can—'

    'There's
a lot I can do, but I'll need some help. I want to seize Dr Peterson's
post-mortem dictation tapes. My legal status while I'm suspended is
questionable, but you're still a coroner's officer and can exercise the
coroner's delegated powers. There's still no coroner but me in this district so
there's a good argument that anything you do at my instruction is legally
valid.'

    'I've
been told not to talk to you, Mrs Cooper.'

    'Then
why did you let me in?'

    Alison
looked at her without answering, then slowly lowered herself into her chair,
sitting sideways to the desk. 'Mr Moreton says that all new deaths are to be
handled by Bristol Central for the time being.'

    'What
has he said about Danny's and Katy's cases?'

    'Nothing.'

    'Have
you spoken to Simone Wills?'

    'What
would I tell her?' There was an edge of desperation in Alison's voice, a woman
caught between her sense of duty and her conscience.

    Jenny
said, 'I've made a decision: I'm going to find out how they died. I'd
appreciate your help getting hold of Peterson's tapes, but if you feel you
can't. . .'

    Alison
agonized. 'I don't know, Mrs Cooper . . .'

    'Wouldn't
you like to know what happened to Harry?'

    Jenny
saw Alison's eyes flick involuntarily leftwards to a document on top of the
piles of receipts on the desk - a credit card statement. The jaws of her
muscles tensed as she seemed to wrestle with her answer.

    Jenny
reached out, snatched the statement and stepped away from the desk,
anticipating Alison's 'No!' as she started up from her chair.

    'Please,
Mrs Cooper - it's none of our business.'

    Jenny
turned away and ran her eyes down the column of payments made on Harry's
personal credit card.

    Alison
tried to step around her and take the statement. 'I opened it by mistake.'

    Jenny
twisted away again, then spotted it, the second to last entry:
26 April,
Novotel, Bristol.
Too late, Alison grabbed it from her hand.

    Jenny
looked up into her eyes and saw the depth of her pain. She felt for her. 'What
was he doing?'

    Alison
fingered the crumpled bill and swallowed the hard lump in her throat. 'Sleeping
with someone, I assume.'

    'Have
you checked with the hotel?'

    Alison
nodded. 'He signed in as Mr and Mrs Marshall... I can't believe that, can you?'

    Wanting
to offer some shred of comfort, Jenny said, 'It could have been due to his
depression. And if the two of you weren't—'

    'No.
It had happened before. I always suspected.' She placed the statement back on
the desk. 'I even had to tell lies for him. Not that he realized, but his wife
would try to catch him out. He'd tell her he was going to London for the day
and would be late home, and she'd call the office to check I wasn't with him.'

    'Mary
thought you two were having an affair?'

    'If
she'd tried screwing him instead of Jesus he might have stayed at home.' She
wiped away dry tears. 'I'm having some coffee. Want some?'

    'Thanks.'

    Alison
went over to the kitchenette.

    Jenny,
watching her, said, 'Did Harry know how you felt about him?'

    'Yes
. . . He even kissed me once, right where you're standing. Two years ago,
completely out of the blue on a Wednesday morning.' And leaden with regret,
'But it wasn't love he was looking for, was it?'

    Imagining
the moment, Harry, playful, catching her unawares, Jenny wandered over to her
desk and glanced over the assorted papers and receipts, guessing that she had
been searching among them for further evidence of his infidelity.

    Alison
came to the kitchenette doorway. 'No, I don't know who she was.'

    'Would
it help?'

    'It
might lay a few ghosts to rest.'

    Jenny
picked up the slender bundles of receipts for April and May and leafed through
them. 'He didn't buy her any presents on office expenses?'

    'None
that I can find.' She turned back to the counter and spooned instant coffee
into cups.

    Jenny
set down the April bundle and picked up May - a month in which Harry had lived
only three days. There were three receipts: one dated i May for two hundred
pounds' worth of office supplies from a mail order firm, one dated 3 May, 10.30
a.m., for a Jiffy bag purchased from WH Smith, and one of the same date timed
at 10.52 a.m. for five pounds' worth of postage. Stapled to it was the
counterfoil for an item of recorded mail, rubber-stamped but with the space for
the sender's details left blank.

    'Who
was he sending a recorded delivery to the morning before he died?'

    Alison
emerged with their drinks. 'I don't know. He didn't mention it to me. I usually
dealt with all the mail.'

    'The
ticket's got a track and trace number. Why don't we go online and find out?'

    Before
Alison could fathom the process she was proposing, Jenny was hitting the
keyboard and had brought up the Royal Mail website on the bulky old-style
monitor. She clicked through to the track and trace screen. 'This should tell
us who the package went to.'

    She
typed in the thirteen-digit code and hit enter. Alison glanced away as a new
screen came up leaving Jenny to read the results alone.

    Responding
to her surprised silence, Alison said, 'What?'

    'It
was to Grantham at his council address. It wasn't signed for. It was delivered
again the next day and was returned again unsigned. Looks like it's probably
still sitting in the sorting office.'

    Alison
looked relieved. 'I should go and get it.'

    'Maybe
later. First we're paying a visit to the Vale - that is, if you're on board.'

    Alison
looked down at her coffee cup and thought for a long moment before lifting her
face with a look of philosophical resignation. 'You're right. I do need to know
what happened to Harry.'

    Jenny
said, 'You wish you'd made love with him that time, don't you?'

    'It
would have been nice. Just the once.'

    They
met the next morning, at the Severn Vale District Hospital. Alison knew Peterson's
shared PA to be a woman named Kathy Greenway. Her office, on the fifth floor of
the main building, could be accessed only by punching in a security code at one
of the doors which led off the atrium around the entrance to the lift. Alison
was to arrive in a matter-of-fact way and ask for Peterson's dictation tapes
for the four weeks from 16 April, treat it as a matter of routine. Jenny would
stay out of sight and intervene only if the situation became awkward. If she
was challenged, Alison was to say that she had been ordered to collect this
evidence before the inquest into Danny's death was adjourned and no one had
told her that it was no longer necessary.

    For
an ex-detective she seemed excessively agitated as they crossed the hospital's
main reception. Jenny sensed she was hoping to be let off the hook. As they
waited for the lift Jenny said the worst that could happen would be a slap on
the wrist - if she stuck to the story no one could disprove that she wasn't
just doing her job, trying to tie up loose ends. A professional.

    Alison
took the lift up alone while Jenny went to wait in the ground-floor canteen,
wearing the wireless headset for her phone. A minute later Alison called and
said she'd keep the line open and the phone in her jacket pocket so Jenny could
hear how she was doing. Jenny bought a cup of weak coffee and found a seat in
the quietest corner.

    For a
while there were only the muffled sounds of the phone jostling in Alison's
pocket as she waited to piggyback through the secure door pretending to have
dropped her briefcase while typing out the code, then hoping some kind soul
would punch it in for her while she gathered up her things.

    The
opportunity came after only a minute or two. Jenny heard the briefcase hit the
floor, Alison's 'Oh dear,' and 'Would you mind?', offers of help from a mild
male voice and the click of the door closing behind her. She was in.

    It
sounded as if Kathy Greenway shared an office with several other PAs. Jenny
could hear various concurrent phone conversations and the rattle of numerous
keyboards, then Alison's 'Miss Greenway?' and a surprised young voice replying,
'Yes?'