Bryant & May 09; The Memory of Blood

∨ The Memory of Blood ∧

37

Bacteria

“You’re a bit out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you?” said Dr Leo Hendrick, resident coroner at the Bermondsey mortuary. The young Jamaican’s borough was a tough beat that suffered a statistically disproportionate level of violent crime, but he was fast building a reputation as the most ambitious medical officer in town. “I suppose we should be flattered, a specialist coming south of the river to see us at work.”

“It may be nothing,” Giles Kershaw admitted, setting down his briefcase. Clearly, Bermondsey had more money than St Pancras; the building was new and fitted with state-of-the-art equipment. Hendrick received him in a carpeted visitors’ room that was as smart as a hotel suite.

“It was kind of you to see me. We just wanted to run something by you.”

“Yes, I read your email. Not being rude, but it sounds to me like you think I made a wrong call, and you’re fishing for a different verdict that’s a better fit with your investigation.”

“Not at all. I’m perfectly happy to let your diagnosis stand. But there’s been some additional information about the case that we thought you should know.” He explained about the coincidence of Anna Marquand’s property being searched and her role in handling sensitive information for government departments.

“Why was I not told of this?” Hendrick complained, checking Anna’s notes on his laptop.

“This kind of information doesn’t just drop into the case files,” Giles explained. “It’s part of the PCU’s brief to make such connections.”

“When Anna Marquand came in, there was nothing in the patient notes about her background. Her address told me she’s from a low-income housing estate. She suffered from a stomach ulcer but seemed healthy enough apart from that. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what these girls get up to. We have to make some assumptions.”

“She went to Nuffield College, Oxford. Surely that should have given you a clue to her background. She was an academic.”

“A university background is no signifier of class. She could have had a college education and become a junkie. She had tetanus. It’s a soil-based infection, Mr Kershaw. In other words, dirt. Clostridium tetani is very hardy. The spores get into a wound and spasm the muscles, locking the jaw and forcing air from the body. It’s found in the environment, not transmitted from person to person. More common in developing nations than over here. Soil, dust, animal waste – apparently there was a neighbourhood dog her mother sometimes let in. There’s a potential source, right there. The bacteria enters through puncture wounds. I’ve seen it caused by rusty nails, insect bites, a wooden splinter, a torn nail. IV drug use, obviously, but she wasn’t a user. The only wound on her body was a tiny nick from the bread knife.

“I checked the knife blade and found traces of the toxin Tetanospasmin on the serrations. There were further traces on the bread board. It seems fairly clear to me that the knife had fallen on the floor at some point earlier in the day and had been replaced without being washed. My assistant spoke to the mother and she remembers picking it up from the kitchen floor not long after the dog had been allowed in there. The Marquands have a small garden. If the dog sometimes did its business on the path and the mother rarely cleaned up the mess… well, poor hygiene. It’s unfortunate, but hardly uncommon.”

“It’s my understanding that tetanus takes a while to become established,” said Giles. “Anna Marquand died quickly.”

“There are exceptions to every rule,” replied Hendrick impatiently.

Giles thanked the doctor and took his leave, but he was not convinced. On his way back to the station he rang Longbright. “Something feels wrong,” he told her. “Didn’t you say there was a packet of Handi Wipes in Anna’s shopping bag?”

“That’s right. There was a small plastic bottle of antibacterial stuff in her handbag, too.”

“Then I think Anna knew what her mother was like and was careful at home. I don’t think it’s very likely that she would have used the knife without washing it first. Wait. The shopping bag was taken away from her and returned.”

“That’s right. The mother says Anna came out of the house and found it on the back step.”

“Can we get everything in it tested?”

“I’ll do it right now.”

Longbright ran the bag up to Banbury, who was working in the makeshift laboratory he had been rigging on the floor above. She explained the problem as Dan debouched the shopping items. “Give me a couple of hours,” said Dan. “I’m sorry, I should have done this at the outset.”

“You had no reason to be suspicious then,” Longbright reminded him.

At six-thirty p.m. he came down to find her. “You were right. It’s in the bread,” he said.

“The bread wasn’t in the shopping bag I gave you.”

“No, it was in the shopping bag originally, but she took it out to make a sandwich. I just had the remains of the loaf brought over from the house. It was still in her mother’s cupboard, untouched. The cut on Anna’s finger was incidental. She ingested poison. Not tetanus but strychnine. It’s quite similar in chemical structure. Hendrick wouldn’t have expected to test for that. He went with the most likely cause of death.”

“We should call the supermarket and warn them.”

“No, I mean it’s in the bread. Injected into it. I found a pinprick in the plastic covering that corresponds to an indentation on the crust, both with traces of poison. It got to her internally. Anna Marquand had a bleeding ulcer. The poison killed her in a fairly short space of time. So I think you can call Giles and tell him the cause of death was strychnine poisoning. The mugger took the bag and returned it with a lethal addition.”

“This is much bigger than a mugging,” said Longbright. “The girl in the house, the man in the alley. There are others involved.”