Dead And Buried

Seventy-four

‘Going by the remains,’ said Max Allan, ‘the pathologist is VJoing by the remains,’ said Max Allan, ’the pathologist is saying that she was about six months pregnant when she was killed.’

‘Has she made a stab at a cause of death?’ Proud asked.

‘She didn’t have to: it was quite clear. The back of her head was smashed in. The marks on the skull indicate that he used a hammer. You’re not going to believe this, Jimmy, but Mr Solomons told us that when they took over the house, Bothwell had left all his tools behind him in his brand new shed. He’s still got them, and there’s a hammer among them. Forensics say that it’s a match: we’ve actually found the murder weapon.’

Mario McGuire leaned closer to the conference phone. ‘Have your people made any progress on the Ethel Ward disappearance, Mr Allan?’

‘Not so far. She had to be alive when they sold Thorny Grove, to sign the conveyance and lodge the money. The old lawyer told me that they moved out on completion day, and not before, but he had no idea where they were headed.’

‘Do you still have records of unclaimed female bodies from that time?’

‘There was only one: a woman came to the surface of the Clyde, or at least part of her did. She’d been hacked about by a ship’s propeller. I had a look at the post-mortem report, but it isn’t helpful. The cause of death was drowning, and the age was estimated as late twenties; that’s younger than Mrs Bothwell.’

‘Any chance of a visual identification from the photographs of the body?’

‘Not without the head, Mario: they never found that. It was written off as a suicide and the remains were cremated. To be frank, I don’t hold out any hope of tracing the poor woman, but in the light of what we found under Mr Solomons’ shed we can assume that she’s dead. I’ve advised the family accordingly.’

‘Fine, Max.’ Proud sighed. ‘I don’t imagine they’ll spend too much time mourning, from what old Bert told me. How are Mr and Mrs Solomons handling it?’

A chuckle came from the speaker. ‘They’re loving the sudden fame. The old boy’s sold his story to the Record. They’re running it tomorrow. How about your end of the business, the Spanish wife and Miss Gentle, who thought she was his fiancée?’

‘That’s not easy: Adolf’s been pretty good at covering his tracks. The only address we have for him in this area was out of date by the time of his disappearance.’

‘Do you have any thoughts on how we should proceed?’

‘Actually,’ said McGuire, ‘Mr Solomons’ story might give us an opening. We’ve got photographs of Bothwell from old school year-books and the like. Let’s get a specialist to work out how he might look now, and give it, and the original, to the Record to run with their piece, and then to all the other media immediately afterwards.’

‘We’d need Crown Office permission,’ his chief constable pointed out.

‘No problem: they’ll give it without a second thought, but we should let the press have much more than that. So far they only know about the Primrose Jardine investigation. With respect, gentlemen, has the potential magnitude of this dawned on you? We’re dealing with a man who’d murdered two, probably three women. . possibly four, since Annabelle Gentle’s been missing for all that time as well. . by the time he reached his mid-thirties, and we’ve lost trace of him. We’re in pursuit of a serial killer here, and he’s had forty bloody years to add to his tally of victims. Don’t you think that it’s our duty to tell the media the whole story and to ask for their help in tracing him?’

Proud picked up his letter-opener and twirled it in his hand. ‘Mario,’ he declared, ‘I couldn’t agree more. Max?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Who’s going to issue it?’

If it is possible to hear a smile, Mario McGuire swore later that he did at that moment. ‘Jimmy,’ said ACC Allan, ‘there is only one man qualified and entitled to do that, and that’s you. Modesty be damned, this is your finest hour as a detective. Get up there and take the credit. You’ll let me see a draft of the announcement, Mario?’

‘Will do, Max.’

‘Speak to you later, then.’

Proud switched off the conference telephone and swung his chair towards McGuire. ‘I really am most embarrassed by all this. When I got into this I’d no idea what would come to the surface. Mario, you brief the press; I’ll take a back seat.’

‘Are you asking me to refuse a direct order, sir? Don’t be shy about it. If I’d done what you’ve done I’d be up there basking in the fucking glory, but I didn’t so I won’t. Please, for us, and for our absent friend, you do it.’

The chief smiled and ran a hand across his brow. ‘Okay, if you insist. I’d better call him before this goes public, I suppose.’

‘That would be a good idea, sir,’ said the head of CID. ‘And someone else as well.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘The woman who started all this: Annabelle Gentle’s daughter.’