Eames said, ‘Can I see her clothes?’
Dr Clayton pulled the trolley containing the evidence bags towards her and handed over the hat. Eames studied it for some moments. Horton caught Gaye’s inquisitive glance. He shrugged a response.
‘It’s by Philip Treacy,’ Eames announced, looking up. ‘He’s one of the top milliners in the country, and probably in the world, and it’s a new creation, this season’s or rather I should say part of the spring collection rather than the summer one.’
Gaye raised her eyebrows in surprise. But why wasn’t he surprised? Somehow he expected Eames to know this kind of thing and he judged her knowledge wasn’t gained from working at Europol on an investigation involving counterfeit designer wear. Her voice, bearing, manner and looks screamed class to him. He wondered how she’d ended up becoming a police officer.
‘Expensive?’ he asked.
‘That depends on who you’re asking,’ she answered earnestly. ‘About a thousand pounds new.’
‘For a hat!’ he exclaimed.
‘A mere nothing, then,’ tossed Gaye Clayton lightly.
Eames smiled. ‘Even if she bought it second hand, which I doubt, it would have cost her about three hundred pounds.’ She picked up the bag containing the shoe. ‘This is a Jimmy Choo.’
‘A what?’ asked Horton.
By the way Eames eyed him he could see that she wasn’t sure if he was taking the rise. He wasn’t. Obviously seeing this she continued. ‘Since Choo launched his label in 1996 he’s built up a celebrity and wealthy client base. If we find the victim’s bag, I expect it will also be a Jimmy Choo. The soles are showing a little wear but the heel has never been repaired. I don’t think the victim would have gone to that much trouble.’
‘Cost?’
‘About four hundred, maybe five hundred pounds.’
‘And the dress?’
Eames went through the same ritual, studying it intently before answering. ‘Cotton blend with an exposed double-ended zip down the back, very provocative, and only someone with her kind of figure, shapely but slim and firm, would look good in it.’
Like you, thought Horton. He caught Gaye’s glance and shifted a little uncomfortably seeing she’d easily read his thoughts. Eames hadn’t, though. Still examining the dress she added, ‘It’s by Victoria Beckham, which means it cost somewhere in the region of two, maybe three thousand pounds.’
Horton eyed her disbelievingly.
‘It might even have cost more,’ Eames said. ‘Everything I’ve seen so far is genuine and I would say bought new.’
‘As I said,’ Gaye chipped in, ‘a high-maintenance lady.’
And clearly one who had money. Marty Stapleton’s money? he wondered. He could see that was what Eames was thinking. A thought occurred to him but it would keep.
Eames continued. ‘Her underwear is silk, sexy and again very expensive. We might be able to trace her through the top fashion houses, designer shops or Internet sites that sell these kind of clothes but that would take considerable time.’
And resources, Horton thought, which they didn’t have, unless Europol assisted. He looked at Gaye Clayton, hoping there might be a short cut.
Interpreting his silent plea she said, ‘OK, so much for the entree. Let’s get down to the main course and see if that helps or hinders your investigations. There is no evidence that she was manhandled or subjected to any kind of physical abuse before being killed. She was also alive when she entered the water, but not for long. The stab wound is located on the right side of the back, twenty-one inches below the top of the head and five inches from the front of the body. The knife entered the skin, the subcutaneous tissue, and through the right seventh rib before penetrating the right pleural cavity. The estimated length of the total wound path is about four inches. A fatal wound causing perforation of the right lung and a haemothorax.’
‘And the weapon?’ asked Horton.
‘A very sharp single-bladed pointed knife, difficult to say the exact size but approximately seven inches in length. There are no signs she put up a struggle. The knife was thrust upwards with some strength.’
‘By a man?’ enquired Eames, looking up from her notes.
‘Not necessarily. A stab wound such as this can be made with minimal force. The important factor is the sharpness of the tip of the blade, and this one was very sharp. Once it has penetrated clothing and skin remarkably little force is required to follow through and create a deep knife wound. Also the faster the stabbing action, the easier it is to penetrate skin. However, the thrust of the knife was underhand, which suggests a man rather than a woman, who tend to favour overhand thrusts. She was killed some time between ten thirty and midnight.’
After everyone had left the sailing club, and by that time it was dark, thought Horton.
‘Thirdly and most interesting is this.’ Gaye pulled the cover further down until it reached the body’s knees. ‘As you can see from the pubic hair your victim was a natural blonde. The hair on her head was dyed black and her eyebrows and eyelashes were tinted black. And I discovered something else which is slightly unusual. She was wearing coloured contact lenses to make her eyes brown. Your victim was not naturally dark-haired and brown-eyed; she was a blue-eyed blonde, much like you, Agent Eames. Now why would she want to change her appearance?’
Why indeed? He glanced at Eames, whose brow puckered with thought as her posh pen hovered over her notebook.
Gaye added, ‘I’ll send her clothes for forensic examination unless you’d like to take them with you.’
Eames answered, ‘No, but we’d like photographs of them please and of the birthmark.’
‘Tom will email them to Sergeant Trueman. I’ve also sent fingerprints over to the fingerprint bureau and DNA for analysis. Oh, and two further things. She had sexual intercourse not long before death and it was consensual.’
With one of Woodley’s mates! Unlikely, thought Horton. He frowned as his mind grappled with this new information.
Gaye said, ‘She’d also eaten a meal five to six hours before she died, probably between five thirty and six thirty. Again there is no sign of her having been forcibly fed.’
‘What kind of meal?’ asked Horton.
‘I’ll let you know as soon as I can.’
Horton thanked her. He caught her quizzical glance before he left, which made him feel a little uncomfortable. Why, he didn’t know, or perhaps he did. He wondered if Dr Clayton was a mind-reader as well as a pathologist. He hoped not because she might have sensed that Agent Eames disturbed him, and not just mentally either.
Outside he said, ‘Does the fact she was really blonde strike any chords with you?’
‘Not immediately but I’ll circulate a revised description to Europol. I’ll also issue a new photograph of the victim with her natural colouring once the photographic unit give us a computer-generated image.’
‘It doesn’t sound as though she was held somewhere against her will. And I can’t see her having sex and eating a meal with any of Woodley’s associates.’
Eames considered this. ‘Perhaps she met someone before meeting her killer.’
That was entirely possible but why hadn’t this person come forward? Perhaps whoever it was didn’t know she’d been killed. He said, ‘While we’re here, let’s see if we can have a word with Fiona Wright.’
They made their way to the radiography department in the hospital. Horton was mulling over Dr Clayton’s revelations but he was still no nearer a conclusion by the time they located Fiona Wright. She’d finished with her patients for the day and waved them into seats in the small air-conditioned consulting room.