A Fatal Mistake: A gripping, twisty murder mystery perfect for all crime fiction fans. Faith Martin
verdict was the only one that would allow him to do so.
Now he smiled benignly at the irate Inspector and spread his hands in a gesture of appeasement. ‘Of course, it’s an intolerable situation for everyone,’ he surprised Jennings by admitting. ‘Which is why the case needs investigating a little further,’ he reiterated.
‘As if we don’t have enough on our plates as it is,’ the Inspector grumbled. ‘We had a hit and run last night, and we’ve still got that Sussinghurst case dragging on…’
‘I’m sure you’re very busy, Inspector,’ Clement interrupted smoothly. ‘Which is why I’ve asked you to spare just a solitary and humble PC to help me do a little more digging.’
As he spoke, he saw Trudy Loveday’s face begin to glow with pleasure as she realised that her hopes about the reason for this call to the DI’s office were well-founded. For, once before, the coroner had come to the station to ask for a police officer to help him with a case, and the DI had assigned him Trudy.
And that time, between them, they’d managed to catch a murderer!
Of course, there was little likelihood of that happening again, Trudy knew, but even so! It beat sitting about in a stuffy hospital for hours on end, either waiting for her patient to say something meaningful, or for the poor man to pass away.
Jennings, suddenly tired of being the old so-and-so’s cat’s paw, shook his head and, like Pontius Pilate, seemingly washed his hands of the whole affair.
‘Haven’t I said you can have WPC Loveday for a few days?’ he said testily. ‘And may I remind you, only for a few days! I can’t spare her for long, haring about on some open-and-shut case, just because you’ve a bee in your bonnet about some students being less than candid!’
‘Thank you, Inspector. I’ll be sure to thank the Chief Constable for your forbearance when next I see him at the club,’ Clement said, smiling affably as he rose from his chair.
At this parting shot, Jennings flushed mightily. He rather suspected that ‘the club’ the coroner was referring to had something to do with the Masons – an institution he was determined to join just as soon as it could be arranged.
Any ambitious officer needed to be a member of that club all right, and this timely reminder that it didn’t do to get on the influential Dr Ryder’s bad side had him backing off rapidly, albeit with little grace.
‘Yes, well, thank you, Dr Ryder,’ Jennings muttered. Then, as the medical man began to make for the door, Jennings, too, rose from his seat. ‘I’ll just have a few words with my officer, sir, before you go,’ he added quietly.
‘Righty-oh,’ Clement said cheerfully, opening the door and passing through it without shutting it behind him. Trudy, seeing the look on the Inspector’s face, hastily rectified that and then returned to stand meekly before his desk.
But her heart was racing. She was going to work with Dr Ryder again! She was actually going to watch and listen and be taught things, instead of being given paperwork and ignored. She could have sung with happiness.
‘Right then, Constable,’ Jennings said heavily. ‘You know the drill – same as last time. Just keep the old man happy, and report back to me every day. I want to know everything that man is up to. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Trudy said. She knew Dr Ryder was too clever a man not to know she would be forced to do this, so didn’t feel at all treacherous in agreeing to the orders.
‘Try and rein him back from any real excesses. And watch you don’t go about upsetting any VIPs,’ he added, all but wagging a finger at her. ‘Most of the parents of the young people at that picnic party are members of the aristocracy, or the new money set. And if you go about upsetting them, they’ll get on to the top brass, and the top brass will have me roasted. And I won’t stand for that! Understood?’
At this, Trudy gulped. She wasn’t quite sure just how she was supposed to go about stopping Dr Ryder when he wanted something, and when he could be, well, perhaps a little straightforward in his speech and manner.
Seeing her hesitation, and guessing the reason for it, DI Jennings sighed heavily. Even he had to concede that it was hardly fair to ask a young girl of nineteen to handle someone like Ryder. Someone who could blister the paintwork with just a look or an acid phrase, and had been known to best the sharpest of QCs and any number of other dignitaries. ‘Oh, just do your best, Constable,’ he finished wearily.
‘Yes, sir,’ Trudy said, and, with a feeling of infinite relief, quickly left the Inspector’s office.
Once outside the station, it was just a short walk to Dr Ryder’s office in the coroner’s court and mortuary complex in Floyds Row. His secretary, recognising her from their first case six months before, smiled at her as Clement strode in, ordering ‘tea and cake, and plenty of it’ as he swept past her.
The older woman shook her head and sighed at his cavalier manner. But Trudy noticed she was smiling.
A few minutes later, Clement Ryder was eating a slice of angel cake and watching his young protégé thoughtfully as she read through the court documents on the seemingly unremarkable case of the drowned law student. He was curious to see what she made of them.
On their last case he’d come to acquire a great deal of respect for this young woman’s intelligence and backbone. She was still very green, of course, but she had plenty of potential, if steered right. Which was why, of course, he’d made damned sure Jennings assigned her to him again. Of course it helped that the buffoon of an inspector totally underestimated the girl’s qualities. Given the proper mentoring by her older and more experienced colleagues, she could really shine. Not that that was likely to happen, he thought, a shade gloomily.
Still, he’d do all he could to help her hone some skills while she was helping him get to the bottom of his latest project.
It took her half an hour to read every scrap of paper in the file, and when she’d finished she leaned back in the chair, a slight frown pulling her fine, dark brows together over her dark, pansy-brown eyes.
‘Well?’ he asked sharply.
‘On the face of it, sir, it looks rather straightforward, doesn’t it? There was a large party of drunken students, and two very overcrowded punts. There was a collision with a third punt and, as a result, a lot of people were pitched into the river. It’s quite possible Derek either couldn’t get to the surface quickly enough, or perhaps got trampled underneath someone else’s feet, expelling all the air from his lungs before he knew what was happening.’
‘Oh, yes. All of that is possible.’ The coroner surprised her slightly by agreeing at once. ‘Mind you, I still think it rather odd that nobody saw him getting into difficulties. There were at least twenty or more students in the water.’
‘Who would have been looking to save themselves, most likely,’ Trudy put in.
‘Oh, almost certainly.’
‘Perhaps he couldn’t get to the surface because of the sheer weight of numbers? Who knows, maybe somebody flailing about actually stood on him?’
‘Again, perhaps. But supposing any of that happened, with so many eyes actually in the water, and so many eyes on the bank watching it all happen, is it very likely that nobody saw the body rise to the surface at some point and float away?’
‘Perhaps it didn’t rise to the surface?’ She played devil’s advocate automatically.
‘Most bodies do,’ the coroner said, then shrugged. ‘Then again, who’s to say? Perhaps they did see a body float away but agreed among themselves to keep quiet about it.’
‘That’s rather far-fetched, isn’t it?’ Trudy said doubtfully. ‘Why would they do that?’
The coroner shrugged. ‘Who’s to say? The thing is, the reason you have an inquest in the first place is to tackle issues like the hows and whys.’
‘So