Sybil Langford was laid out on a marble slab, her naked flesh washed and cleansed of river debris. Her once creamy skin now had a greeny-grey pallor, darkening to near black as lividity drew down what was left of her blood. Her face – which according to Dr Bone had been bloated by hydropsy when he first saw her yesterday – was now returning to a more recognisable visage. Clara could see the beautiful cheekbones, pert nose and bow-shaped lips that she remembered from the photographs of Sybil in life, now devoid of all warmth. But her hair – her beautiful blonde hair – was still limp and bedraggled, snagged with twigs that Clara wished Bone had removed. She hoped the actress would be suitably bathed and beautified before reaching her final resting place.
If Dr Bone was correct and Sybil’s last meal was on Wednesday night or Thursday morning, then Sybil had still been alive when Juju and Peggy Rose hired Clara to find the missing actress on Wednesday morning. Could she still be alive now if Clara had been quicker about it? Was she still alive on Thursday when Clara had walked along the riverbank where her body had been found?
Clara could not see any traces of the rash she had been told had plagued the actress in the last week or so of her life, but it was hard to tell due to the discoloration of the corpse. Sybil’s torso was quartered by a crucifix-shaped welt where she’d been cut open and stitched back together. Dr Bone had done the autopsy last night. From a scientific point of view Clara was disappointed – she would have liked to have seen that. She had done some basic anatomy as part of her general science degree, but had cut up nothing more exciting than rats. She felt she had got to know Sybil over the last few days and so she might have struggled to be completely dispassionate about it. However, she was not squeamish, and asked to see the stomach contents.
‘The intestines and stomach have already been replaced, Miss Vale, along with the other organs. And I shall not be opening the cadaver again.’
‘And the contents? Have they been emptied? I was hoping to examine them.’
Bone grunted then turned to Charlie. ‘You have a very enthusiastic assistant, Dr Malone. I have of course extracted the contents, but she has no need to see them. She’ll have to make do with my written report.’ He walked to a desk in the corner of the room and returned with a notepad. ‘I haven’t had it typed up yet, but here are my handwritten notes.’
Clara took the notes and perused them with Charlie looking over her shoulder. ‘So,’ she said eventually, ‘she died of heart failure – you presume as a result of hypothermia. There is no evidence of disease or viral infection that might have contributed to her demise. Her last meal was bread and fish stew. And due to the body not secreting the necessary enzymes for digestion after death, the remnants remained in the duodenum.’
‘That is correct. It appears as though she died within three or four hours of her last meal.’
‘One would not expect someone to have fish stew for breakfast,’ observed Charlie.
‘Not in ordinary circumstances,’ agreed Clara, ‘but perhaps Sybil was not being held in ordinary circumstances.’
‘Held?’ asked Bone. ‘What do you mean?’
Clara suddenly realised that she had broken her cover. Would she now have to admit that she had an interest in Sybil Langford that went beyond the curiosity of a science graduate wanting a bit of work experience? No, she was not ready to admit that yet. Dr Bone was only tolerating her for Charlie Malone’s sake. She feared that Bone would throw her out if he felt she was ‘playing detective’. So instead she said, ‘What I mean is a woman who may have committed suicide – wearing a fairy godmother dress that she had possibly been wearing since she left the theatre on Saturday – could hardly be said to be in ordinary circumstances. Or in an ordinary state of mind.’
Charlie gave her an approving look. Bone just grunted.
‘Do the police know where she was between Saturday and the time she was found?’ asked Charlie.
Bone shook his head. ‘I believe they are looking into that. Fortunately that’s not my job. This is,’ he said, indicating the bodily remains of Sybil Langford.
Clara handed him back the report. ‘I see there was no sign of alcohol in her system. Was there anything else? Have you done a broad toxicology analysis?’
Bone narrowed his eyes. ‘I have sent some specimens to the pathology laboratory at the county hospital. But they don’t work at weekends. And as it’s nearly Christmas, we might not get any results for a while. However, as there is nothing to indicate this was anything other than suicide or misadventure, there is no urgency. We will of course need to have the results ready for the coroner’s inquest, but that won’t be before the new year. So, Miss Vale, Dr Malone, I’m afraid this is as much as I can show you today. I hope you’ve found it …’ he paused, searching for the right word, and eventually said ‘… educational.’
Clara nodded to him. ‘I have, thank you. And thank you, Dr Malone, for bringing me with you.’
Charlie and Clara walked to their car. It was half past three and the afternoon was drawing to a close, the sky heavy with unshed snow. ‘Did you get what you needed?’ asked Charlie, as they picked their way over the gritted road to where their vehicle was parked.
‘Yes and no. I wanted to probe him more about when her heart stopped – before or after she entered the water. But that would have indicated to him that I believe it wasn’t suicide.’
Charlie stopped and turned to her. ‘I got the feeling that’s what you were thinking. So why didn’t you say that to Dr Bone?’
Clara pursed her lips. ‘Because he would have told the police that that’s what I think and they would then want to know why I think that.’
Charlie frowned. ‘Well of course they would. If you have some evidence that suggests this isn’t suicide, Clara, you need to pass it on.’
‘But that’s exactly the problem, I don’t have any evidence. Not yet. I’ve just got some suspicions and some curious lines of enquiry. From my so far limited experience as a private detective – and particularly as a lady detective – I’ve learned not to go to the police too soon. If the evidence isn’t conclusive, they might dismiss it. The default assumption seems to be that a woman could not possibly know what she’s talking about. In my last two cases – three if you count Bob’s death separately – I have had to get all my ducks in a row and prepare a practically airtight case before the authorities would take me seriously. I’m tackling this one the same way.’ She looked at Charlie searchingly. ‘Unless you think I’ve misjudged Dr Bone. That he would take my suspicions seriously without conclusive evidence.’
Charlie sighed and shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid you’re right. If you were a man, Bone would be more willing to hear you out. But even then, as you have no formal qualifications in the field, he would still be prone to dismiss your opinion. But I respect your opinion, Clara. So if you need me to pass on anything to Bone or the police …’
Clara knew Charlie was just trying to be helpful and respectful, but the last thing she wanted was to have a man present her case for her. No, she would gather all the evidence she needed and present it herself. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘I’ll keep that in mind. But for now I’ve got a lot more investigating to do. However, just one more thing, if you don’t mind.’
Charlie inclined his head, inviting the question.
‘In your medical opinion, could Sybil’s heart have stopped before she entered the water?’
Charlie ran his forefinger across his moustache, contemplating his answer. ‘Yes, it could have. The cause of death might have been hypothermia from the air not the water.’
‘Was it definitely the hypothermia that stopped her heart?’
‘Well, no, not necessarily. But there were clearly indicators of hypothermia, so it’s a logical inference.’
‘But still an inference.’
‘Yes, it’s not conclusive.’
‘So it’s possible that Sybil could have had heart failure from a cause separate to the hypothermia. And then had hypothermia on top of that.’
‘It is possible, yes. But there’s no evidence of that.’
‘The toxicology report isn’t back though.’
‘No, it isn’t. Do you know something about that, Clara?’
Clara shrugged. ‘It’s one of my avenues of enquiry. You see, all the witnesses I’ve spoken to so far have said that Sybil was ill in the days running up to her disappearance.’ She went on to describe the symptoms to Charlie. ‘So, seeing Dr Bone didn’t find any symptoms of disease or viral infection, I’m wondering if it was something she had taken. Or that had been given to her. Something the toxicology report will reveal. And something that could have stopped her heart before she entered the river.’
‘How could she have entered the river if her heart had stopped before?’
Clara folded her arms. ‘Exactly. Someone would have to have placed her there. If that’s the case, then she had been in someone’s company between Saturday night and either Wednesday night or Thursday morning when she died. Was she with them willingly?’
‘Or she could have been on her own.’
‘She could have. I have no evidence either way. As yet. So as you see, not much to give to the police. I think I need to get back to Newcastle and speak again to the Starlight Players. Shall we hit the road?’
‘Yes, let’s. Oh, and Clara,’ he said, as she opened the car door for him.
‘Yes?’
‘Bob would be so proud of you.’