The Secret Life and Curious Death of Miss Jean Milne Read Online Free PDF

knob end until the knob flew off and then he stopped and he put it down there on the table. It was plain as day. Anybody could see it. The carving fork from the sideboard was lying on the floor, the sort of thing that comes in a case with a big knife and a sharpening steel. We found them later, a matched set of them, with horn handles.
    The blood went up the stair. There was more of it on the carpet on the third step of the stair, and further up, on a broad landing, another bit of green curtain cord, like the bit that was tied round her ankles. Everywhere you looked, everywhere, the whole floor was bestrewn with spent matches – dozens of them.
    And there was one other thing. At the turning of the stair, in the corner, there was a tall brass vase. It was full of piss and starting to stink. I emptied it down the sink, rinsed it out and put it back just exactly as I found it.

5
    DURING THE FORENOON Dr Sturrock arrived and had an examination of the body. Dr Sturrock is an unusually short man who favours a soft hat. He had been interrupted on his way to morning services and, not being a very diligent attender, he pleaded an emergency and left Mrs Sturrock at the door of the kirk and came away. Of course he had not thought to take his medical bag with him on such an outing, so he was forced to return to his home, gather such things as were needful and make his way – none too hurriedly I may say – to Elmgrove.
    Dr Sturrock stopped in the vestibule and had private conversation with Chief Constable Sempill before joining me in the hall, where I stood guarding the body.
    “Has she been moved?” he asked me.
    “No, sir.”
    “Nothing has been touched or disturbed?”
    “Nothing whatever, sir.”
    “Sergeant Fraser knows his duties, Doctor.” Mr Sempill sounded very ill-mannered and not at all like himself, but I imagine the strains of the horrible discovery and the responsibilities weighing on his shoulders must have affected his temper. “Now, what can you tell me about this lady?”
    Dr Sturrock got down on his hands and knees and turned his head. He was looking Miss Milne right in the face, which is a task I would not have envied him, and then, with a grunt and a loud exhaling of breath, he sat up again. “I identify this as the body of Miss Jean Milne of this address and I am prepared to certify death,” he said.
    The Chief Constable was furious. “Is that an attempt at humour, man?”
    “What else would you have me say? The woman is clearly dead. At first glance it appears she died as a result of blunt force trauma to the skull – that is to say somebody beat her head in, likely with that bloodstained poker . . .”
    “Not this bit of rock?” Chief Constable Sempill pointed to a large stone that was sitting on the tiled floor. Part of it had broken off and the broken corner was lying there beside it, the two wounds fresh and clean and new.
    “It’s a doorstop,” said Dr Sturrock. “There’s not a drop of blood on it. I cannot conjecture as to how it was broken, but it was definitely not the weapon in this case.”
    “Was there unpleasantness?”
    Dr Sturrock got to his feet with a look of indulgent bafflement on his face and stood making notes in a little book with a silver pencil. “Unpleasantness? Unpleasantness? Look about you, man. The unpleasantness is before your very eyes. Speak Scotch or whistle, Chief Constable. You mean ‘was she raped?’ I can’t tell that either, not without disturbing the body. We need to get her into the mortuary for a proper examination and even then it might not be easy. This poor soul needs to be got into a decent grave.”
    “How long has she been lying?”
    “I can’t tell. This time of year, not too warm, indoors, not too cool either, not exposed to the weather, not disturbed by animals, a couple, three weeks. But I can tell you one thing for sure and certain: it wasn’t a robbery.”
    Mr Sempill snorted at him. “Do me the courtesy of not teaching me my