River of Darkness by Rennie Airth Page B

guessed we've got problems.' 'He doesn't know the half of it. Come with me. There's something I want to show you.' Inside the hall a low hum of voices sounded from a line of tables where detectives were taking statements. Madden saw Styles, bent over a pad, sitting opposite an elderly woman in a black coat and hat. Inspector Boyce was at another table before a growing pile of statement forms. With a nod to him, Sinclair picked up his file and led Madden to one side, out of earshot. He removed two typewritten sheets of paper clipped together from the folder and handed them to the inspector. 'Have a look at that.' It was the post-mortem report on Lucy Fletcher. Madden spent several minutes studying it. Sinclair waited until he had finished. 'So he never touched her.' Eyes narrowed, the chief inspector stood with folded arms. 'Ransom looked everywhere. Vaginal swabs. Anal swabs. He even tested the poor woman's mouth. Not a trace of semen.' 'He grabbed her, though, just as we thought,' Madden said. ' "Bruises on the upper arms . . ."' he quoted. 'He grabbed her and dragged her up the stairs to the bedroom and cut her throat. Why didn't he rape her? There was nothing to stop him. She was naked under that robe. What was he doing there? Why was he in that house?' Madden was silent. 'He killed her with a razor, Ransom thinks. But it wasn't the colonel's -- that was with his shaving things in the bathroom. We found no trace of blood on it. He brought his own.' Madden put the report back in the file. 'Did you show this to Dr Blackwell?' he asked. 'Yes. Why?' 'They were childhood friends. She needed to know.' Sinclair sighed. He pointed to the pile of forms in front of Boyce. 'Go through those, John. See if you can find anything. I must talk to the press. When I come back we'll sit down together. The assistant commissioner's called a meeting for tomorrow morning. The Yard is making its concern clear,' he added drily. 'I expect to be told they want an early result.' 'I doubt they'll get one this time.' Madden weighed the file in his hand. 'Spare a thought for me tomorrow when I'm telling them that.'
    The tea urn had appeared again; it was sitting on a table by the door. Madden poured himself a mug and took a sandwich from the heaped plate beside it. He collected the pile of forms from Boyce and settled down in a quiet corner. The statements, short for the most part, were mainly testaments to the unchanging nature of village life. Most of those questioned had seen the Fletchers at church on Sunday morning - for the last time, tragically. Several of them had spoken to Lucy Fletcher afterwards. 'Such a lovely lady,' Mrs Arthur Skipps, the butcher's wife had said, unprompted, and the detective interviewing her had let the remark stand. Such a lovely lady. Tom Cooper, the Fletchers' gardener, had been one of the last to see them alive. Although he was free on Sunday, he had gone over to Melling Lodge in the late afternoon to water the roses growing beside the kitchen-garden wall. The long drought had made it a difficult summer for him and he was determined not to see his labours go for nothing. Colonel Fletcher had found him busy with a watering-can and chided him in a friendly way for working on his day off. The colonel had been in his 'usual good spirits'. Later, Mrs Fletcher and her daughter Sophy had walked by and Cooper had waved to them. They were talking about the puppy the Fletchers were planning to buy for Sophy and her brother when they returned from Scotland at the end of the summer. Lord Stratton, in his statement, said he had taken the Lord Lieutenant and his wife to dine with the Fletchers on Saturday evening. It had been 'a pleasant occasion'. The Fletchers had talked about their plans to drive through France later that summer to visit friends in Biarritz. Helen Blackwell, who had also been at the dinner, was more forthcoming. Sophy Fletcher was to have spent the whole summer with her uncle and aunt Colonel Fletcher's brother