Hardcastle's Obsession Read Free

reading a file.
    ‘Good morning, sir.’
    ‘Sit yourself down, Ernie. I’ve got a tricky murder for you here.’ Hudson flourished the file.
    ‘All my murders are tricky ones, sir.’
    ‘Yes, but I think this one just might test you more than a little,’ said Hudson with a smile, as he seated himself behind his desk. ‘Do light up, Ernie.’ The superintendent knew it to be Hardcastle’s invariable habit to start his working day by smoking a pipe.
    ‘Thank you, sir.’ Hardcastle filled his pipe with his favourite St Bruno tobacco, and accepted the box of Swan Vestas matches that Hudson pushed towards him.
    ‘There was a bomb at a hundred and forty-three Washbourne Street on Sunday night,’ Hudson began.
    ‘Yes, I know, sir.’ Hardcastle expelled smoke towards the nicotine-stained ceiling; Hudson, too, was an inveterate pipe smoker, perhaps smoking more often than even Hardcastle.
    ‘Inspector Sankey of Rochester Row was in charge of the incident,’ began Hudson, reading from the inspector’s report. ‘Apart from a telegram boy who was killed in the street, there were seven fatalities in the house itself. However, the body of a young woman was found in the basement, but Sankey was unable to discover her identity. A man called Jackson assisted Sankey at the scene, but swore he’d never seen the woman before. Sankey is fairly satisfied that she wasn’t a resident.’
    ‘Could’ve been a visitor, I suppose, sir,’ said Hardcastle.
    ‘Possibly,’ said Hudson, ‘but there’s a complication. The doctor who examined her, only in order to certify death, was of the opinion that she might’ve been strangled.’ The superintendent glanced at Hardcastle, a half smile on his face.
    ‘Who was this doctor, sir?’
    ‘A Doctor Thomas, a local GP.’
    ‘Not a pathologist, then,’ said Hardcastle dismissively.
    ‘No, but the Home Office can’t spare a forensic pathologist to examine every victim of a bombing, Ernie. No doubt you’ll want Spilsbury to take a look.’
    Dr Bernard Spilsbury was an eminent specialist in the field of murder, and his reputation was such that the likelihood of his appearance in the witness box caused many a defence counsel to work into the small hours preparing his cross-examination. One of Spilsbury’s most recent causes célèbres was the Brides-in-the-Bath case when his evidence of the method by which George Joseph Smith had murdered his several wives was instrumental in sending Smith to the gallows just over a year ago.
    ‘Indeed, I shall, sir. Dr Spilsbury will tell us whether the woman had been strangled or not. Frankly, I don’t trust a local GP to be certain of the cause of death, and I’d hate to have to put him in the witness box. Defence counsel would make mincemeat of him, particularly if it were someone like Marshall Hall.’ Sir Edward Marshall Hall, scourge of prosecution witnesses, was regarded as the foremost defence counsel of the day. But even he, when defending Smith, had been bettered by Spilsbury. ‘Where’s this here body now, sir?’
    Hudson referred to the report again. ‘Horseferry Road mortuary.’
    ‘I dare say Dr Spilsbury will want the body moved to St Mary’s at Paddington. It’s where he always does his post-mortem examinations.’
    ‘I’ll leave you to speak to Spilsbury about that, Ernie. And the best of luck.’
    Hardcastle walked back down the corridor, shouting for Marriott on the way.
    ‘Yes, sir?’ said Marriott, as he followed the DDI into his office.
    ‘We’ve got a suspicious death to deal with, Marriott.’
    ‘Yes, sir, I know,’ said Marriott.
    Hardcastle frowned. ‘How did you know that?’ he demanded.
    ‘It’s the job of the first-class sergeant to know all that’s happening on his subdivision, sir.’ Marriott risked a smile.
    ‘Yes, well as you’re so clever, Marriott, perhaps you can tell me who this young woman is.’
    ‘I’m not that clever, sir.’
    ‘No, I didn’t think so. Get on that telephone thing,