The Hyde Park Headsman by Anne Perry

out…” He stopped, waiting for Pitt to ask the question that had occurred to both of them.
    “Any feeling as to whether it was planned or a sudden rage?” Pitt put it into words.
    “Too early,” Tellman replied with a faint gleam in his eyes. “Might be clever thinking, might be luck. Know more when we’ve covered all the bank, or nothing. Looks clever, so far. I’ll tell you this, sir—it doesn’t look like any chance madman to me. And we did check, there’s been no maniacs escaped from Bedlam or anywhere else. And we’ve no record of a crime like it before.”
    “Have you got the medical examiner’s report yet?”
    “There’s a wound on the head,” Tellman answered. “He was probably hit to stun him before he was beheaded. Not hard enough to kill, just rob him of his senses for a while.” He looked at Pitt candidly at last. “Looks careful and nasty, doesn’t it … sir.”
    “Yes it does. Is that all?”
    Tellman opened his eyes wide, waiting for Pitt to continue.
    “There was nothing on the rest of the body, so far as I could see,” Pitt said patiently. “No bruises, no scratches on his hands or knuckles. What about his clothes? I didn’t see them. Are they torn or scuffed? Green stains, mud?”
    “No,” Tellman said flatly. “No. He didn’t put up a fight. Nothing at all.”
    “How tall does he estimate him to have been—with his head? Six feet?”
    “About that, as near as we can judge—and big, broad chested.”
    “I know. I saw him. And yes, it does look nasty,” Pitt agreed. “I think we need to know a great deal more about Captain the Honorable Oakley Winthrop.”
    Tellman’s face split into a grin.
    “That’s why it’s your case, Mr. Pitt. The powers that be reckon as you’re good at that sort of thing. You’d better go and mix with the Honorable Winthrops and their kin. See who hated the good captain, and why.” He stood still in front of Pitt’s desk, amused and sharp with resentment. “We’ll get on with finding witnesses and that sort of regular police work. Will that be all, sir?”
    “No it won’t.” Pitt kept the dislike out of his voice with intense difficulty. He must remember he was in command; he had no business indulging in personal irritations and pettiness. He forced it out of his mind. “What did the medical examiner say about a weapon? I assume you haven’t found anything or you would have said so.”
    “No sir, nothing yet.” He preempted Pitt’s repeating the orders. “We’ll drag the Serpentine, of course, but makes sense to look in the easier places first.”
    “What did the medical examiner tell you?”
    “Clean cut Must have been quite a heavy weapon to do that in one blow, and with a very sharp blade. Either an ax with a broad head, or more likely a sword of some sort, again a big one, a cutlass or the like.”
    With a wave of sickening memory Pitt saw again in hismind the severed stump of neck, and smelled the overwhelming carbolic and wet stone.
    “Or a meat cleaver?” he suggested with a husky voice.
    Tellman had got Pitt’s vision. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face for not having mentioned it himself. “Yes—or that. Anyway, we’ll know if we find it.”
    “When were the latest witnesses you could trace, so far?” Pitt went on.
    Tellman looked at him expressionlessly. “How would you suggest we go about that, sir? Not easy to know who crosses Hyde Park of an evening. Could be anyone in London—or out of it, for that matter. Visitors, foreigners …” He left all the possibilities trailing in the air.
    “Cabbies,” Pitt said dryly. “They have areas.” He saw Tellman’s face flush, but continued. “Post a man on the paths and on Rotten Row, and along Knightsbridge, and see who passes that way this evening. Some people do things regularly.”
    “Yes sir.” Tellman stood very stiffly. It was common-sense police work, and he knew it. “Naturally that will be done, sir. Is that all?”
    Pitt thought for a