scene of the crime?’ Ellie protested, gazing down at the flattened grass and a dozen or so impressions of heavy police boots.
‘It’s a mess all right,’ Trent agreed. ‘But it probably wasn’t that particular constable’s fault.’
‘But—’
‘And even if it was his fault, it’s done now, and it can’t be undone—whereas the local coppers could undo the fact we’ve got rooms booked for the night, if they felt so inclined.’
‘You have a point,’ Ellie Carr conceded reluctantly. ‘But look at what they’ve done, Jed! It’s almost as if they’d held a bleedin’ carnival here!’
‘So I suppose that if they’ve destroyed all the evidence, there’s nothing to be learned, and we might just as well head back to the town,’ Jed Trent said, lifting his hand to his face to hide his slight smile.
‘I never said they’d destroyed all the evidence,’ Ellie Carr told him. ‘It is just possible that a few shreds might remain—and that a brilliant young scientist just might be able to recover them.’
‘If only we had one with us,’ Jed Trent said softly.
‘What was that?’ Ellie demanded.
‘Nothing,’ Trent told her.
Ellie walked over to the ditch. ‘Did you mean what you said earlier?’ she asked.
‘About Inspector Blackstone fancying you?’ Trent asked.
Ellie frowned. ‘No. About the local coppers probably not fancying me at all.’
‘Of course I didn’t mean it,’ Trent said, the smile behind his hand broadening. ‘With your graceful manner and your winning ways, what man wouldn’t fall in love with you immediately?’
Ellie Carr nodded, as if acknowledging what was no more than the simple truth.
‘That’s all right then,’ she said, stepping down into the ditch—and seemingly oblivious of the fact that she was immediately plunging herself up to her ankles in dirty water.
It was twenty minutes before Ellie climbed out of the ditch again. As she stood dripping in front of him, Trent gave her a quick up-and-down inspection. It was not a pretty sight. The bottom half of her dress was soaking, and she had somehow contrived to get mud in her hair.
‘Just look at the state you’re in,’ Trent said disapprovingly. ‘You’ve probably caught your death of cold. And even if you haven’t, it’ll take a washerwoman hours to get all that filth off your dress.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Jed, stop fussing,’ Ellie said dismissively. ‘What does a bit of dirt matter if the cause of forensic science has been advanced?’
‘And has it?’
‘I think so. What was the first thing that everyone told us about Emma Walsingholme when we arrived?’
‘That she’d been killed and mutilated in a ditch?’
‘Exactly! And the constable, whom you seemed so eager to defend, repeated that same error not half an hour ago.’
‘So she wasn’t killed and mutilated here?’
‘Certainly wasn’t mutilated .’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘If she had been, I’d have found at least traces of it—splinters of bone, bits of tissue, the odd tooth...’ Ellie paused. ‘You really don’t want to know the details, Jed.’
‘No, I probably don’t,’ Trent agreed. ‘So she wasn’t mutilated here. But was this where she was killed?’
‘Highly unlikely,’ Ellie Carr said crisply. ‘Apart from the difficulty it would have caused the killer to move a girl who was spurting blood like a fountain, she’d have bled to death in a very short time. So there’d have been no need to strangle her, would there?’
‘But if she didn’t lose her hands and feet in the ditch, why were her gloves and shoes found next to her body?’
‘You tell me,’ Ellie suggested.
Trent thought about it for a minute. ‘Because her killer wanted people to believe that this was where she met her end?’ he said finally.
‘That’s just the conclusion I’ve reached,’ Ellie agreed.
‘But why would he give a damn what we think?’
‘I don’t have the slightest idea,’ Ellie admitted.
‘It’s a mess all right,’ Trent agreed. ‘But it probably wasn’t that particular constable’s fault.’
‘But—’
‘And even if it was his fault, it’s done now, and it can’t be undone—whereas the local coppers could undo the fact we’ve got rooms booked for the night, if they felt so inclined.’
‘You have a point,’ Ellie Carr conceded reluctantly. ‘But look at what they’ve done, Jed! It’s almost as if they’d held a bleedin’ carnival here!’
‘So I suppose that if they’ve destroyed all the evidence, there’s nothing to be learned, and we might just as well head back to the town,’ Jed Trent said, lifting his hand to his face to hide his slight smile.
‘I never said they’d destroyed all the evidence,’ Ellie Carr told him. ‘It is just possible that a few shreds might remain—and that a brilliant young scientist just might be able to recover them.’
‘If only we had one with us,’ Jed Trent said softly.
‘What was that?’ Ellie demanded.
‘Nothing,’ Trent told her.
Ellie walked over to the ditch. ‘Did you mean what you said earlier?’ she asked.
‘About Inspector Blackstone fancying you?’ Trent asked.
Ellie frowned. ‘No. About the local coppers probably not fancying me at all.’
‘Of course I didn’t mean it,’ Trent said, the smile behind his hand broadening. ‘With your graceful manner and your winning ways, what man wouldn’t fall in love with you immediately?’
Ellie Carr nodded, as if acknowledging what was no more than the simple truth.
‘That’s all right then,’ she said, stepping down into the ditch—and seemingly oblivious of the fact that she was immediately plunging herself up to her ankles in dirty water.
It was twenty minutes before Ellie climbed out of the ditch again. As she stood dripping in front of him, Trent gave her a quick up-and-down inspection. It was not a pretty sight. The bottom half of her dress was soaking, and she had somehow contrived to get mud in her hair.
‘Just look at the state you’re in,’ Trent said disapprovingly. ‘You’ve probably caught your death of cold. And even if you haven’t, it’ll take a washerwoman hours to get all that filth off your dress.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Jed, stop fussing,’ Ellie said dismissively. ‘What does a bit of dirt matter if the cause of forensic science has been advanced?’
‘And has it?’
‘I think so. What was the first thing that everyone told us about Emma Walsingholme when we arrived?’
‘That she’d been killed and mutilated in a ditch?’
‘Exactly! And the constable, whom you seemed so eager to defend, repeated that same error not half an hour ago.’
‘So she wasn’t killed and mutilated here?’
‘Certainly wasn’t mutilated .’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘If she had been, I’d have found at least traces of it—splinters of bone, bits of tissue, the odd tooth...’ Ellie paused. ‘You really don’t want to know the details, Jed.’
‘No, I probably don’t,’ Trent agreed. ‘So she wasn’t mutilated here. But was this where she was killed?’
‘Highly unlikely,’ Ellie Carr said crisply. ‘Apart from the difficulty it would have caused the killer to move a girl who was spurting blood like a fountain, she’d have bled to death in a very short time. So there’d have been no need to strangle her, would there?’
‘But if she didn’t lose her hands and feet in the ditch, why were her gloves and shoes found next to her body?’
‘You tell me,’ Ellie suggested.
Trent thought about it for a minute. ‘Because her killer wanted people to believe that this was where she met her end?’ he said finally.
‘That’s just the conclusion I’ve reached,’ Ellie agreed.
‘But why would he give a damn what we think?’
‘I don’t have the slightest idea,’ Ellie admitted.
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