The Altered Case by Peter Turnbull

was both British and contemporary. Four of the five skeletons were short of stature but were in proportion, none having abnormally short legs or abnormally long spines. One of the five skeletons would have been a significantly taller person when alive than the other four persons. The male would have been five feet two inches tall or one hundred and fifty-seven centimetres tall. The three shorter females would have been about five feet or one hundred and fifty-four centimetres tall. The fourth female, on the other hand, would have been a lofty five feet eight inches or one hundred and seventy-two centimetres tall. Dr D’Acre stroked the back of her hand under her chin in a seemingly absent-minded gesture. ‘You know, these people, these goodly folk will have been noticed to be missing. A missing family . . . there will definitely be a missing person report filed somewhere in the country in respect of those five people.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Carmen Pharoah replied.
    ‘The older female skeleton had given birth; pelvic scarring is evident, so at least two breech deliveries, being the minimum required to cause such scarring, which fits in neatly with the impression that these five persons were a family. And again, I repeat, no injuries are noted. Can you see anything, Eric?’
    ‘No, ma’am,’ Eric Filey replied quickly, ‘and I have been looking.’
    ‘A second pair of eyes is always useful and you don’t need to be an MD to be able to identify a hairline fracture in the bone or bones of a skeleton,’ Dr D’Acre explained, ‘and Eric has been useful before.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Carmen Pharoah smiled approvingly at Eric Filey who shifted uncomfortably at the compliment and approval.
    ‘So,’ Dr D’Acre continued, ‘all these five people died without damage to their bones, which is how the great majority of us meet our end if you would care to think about it.’
    ‘I suppose so, ma’am,’ Carmen Pharoah replied. ‘I confess I have never thought about it like that before.’
    ‘Well, death by old age or serious illness takes most of us in the Western world anyway. But five wholly intact and undamaged skeletons is . . . is . . . what would you call it, Eric?’
    ‘Unusual, ma’am.’ Eric Filey beamed in response to his opinion being sought. ‘I’d say it is unusual.’
    ‘I would say so too, unusual in the extreme.’ Dr D’Acre leaned on the table upon which lay the skeleton of the oldest female, the skeleton assumed to be that of the wife and mother. ‘None of the other female skeletons show signs of having given birth, though they are quite old enough to have done so. Late teenagers I would say, probably early twenties. My findings will be spartan and wholly inconclusive, though we must wait for the DNA and diatom test results, as I said.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Carmen Pharoah replied. ‘I will inform Mr Hennessey.’
    ‘Yes, please do . . . please do . . . but we are looking at death by poisoning, suffocation, exsanguination, but that is unlikely because it’s too messy, forty pints of blood will leave quite a trace . . . or drowning or asphyxiation . . . and possibly thirst or even starvation. Definitely some form of death which did not involve trauma.’
    ‘They were not large,’ Carmen Pharoah said, ‘apart from one. I mean it would not have taken a great deal of strength to overpower them, tie them up and then leave them in a garage where there is a car with its engine running, something like that.’
    ‘Yes, that’s the sort of death we . . . you should be looking for and, yes, their lack of stature might indeed have been a factor which worked against them.’
    ‘It was quite a deep hole,’ Carmen Pharoah observed, ‘or so I am led to believe.’
    ‘It was,’ Dr D’Acre replied, ‘it was a deep grave in heavy soil, believed to have been buried in the September of the year. It gets light at about five thirty a.m. these days and dark at nine thirty p.m., approximately. I can’t