‘Sir!’ said Cottingham, already filling in the boundaries of the room on a sheet of squared paper.
‘Oh, and you’ll have observed the pieces of broken glass from the window. . Plot as many as seems possible, will you? Size of shards and position. A pattern may emerge. As with the blood spatter. Get that down too.’
‘Someone I ought to know, sir?’ said Cottingham without a break in his sketching.
‘Sorry. This was Dame Beatrice Jagow-Joliffe. She was attending a party below, returned to her room just after midnight and was discovered, as you observe, about half an hour later by Constable Westhorpe.’
Cottingham paused in his work and looked up questioningly at Joe. ‘Looks like a burglary that went wrong. Is that what we’re thinking, sir? She disturbed a burglar. Anything missing?’
On cue, Westhorpe emerged from the bedroom, a red leather jewel case in her hand. She opened it and diamonds flashed from the black velvet interior. ‘This was under the mattress, sir. A diamond necklace. Under the mattress! The second place any thief would look! Why on earth can’t people use the hotel safe? He didn’t stay long enough to search properly. Just snatched the emeralds and ran.’
‘The emeralds?’ both men said in unison.
Westhorpe walked over to the corpse. ‘At the party she was wearing the Joliffe emeralds. Family do — of course she would be wearing them. Not round her neck any more and not in her room. And look, sir. .’ Peering closely, she pointed with a finger. ‘An abrasion, bruise, cut, something there. Someone’s pulled at the necklace. Roughly, you’d say, and made off again back the way he came through the window. It was a burglary, evidently!’
‘Thank you for your observations, Westhorpe. Note it down. Have you checked the bathroom?’
With a lingering glance back over her shoulder at the crime scene, Tilly returned to her duties and they heard the banging of cupboard doors as she resumed her steady routine search.
Released after a suitable interval by the vigilant Armitage below, Joe guessed, the next to arrive was the pathologist and, again, this was a man Joe had worked with before, perhaps the best the Home Office could supply. Joe began to see a pattern of selection at work. The top brass had obviously been busy on the telephone for the last hour in an effort to assemble this particular grouping of talent, and the gravity and delicacy of the task ahead were being alarmingly underlined. There was more riding on the quick solution to this mystery than the sensibilities of the Ritz hotel, he realized.
‘Good to see you again, Dr Parry!’ Joe greeted the portly man who bustled in, wheezing from his ascent of four flights of stairs.
‘And you, Commander! Buggers wouldn’t let me use the lift! Your orders? Curse you then! Now, what have you got to show me that’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until dawn?’
Joe led him to the body. ‘Died just after midnight. A police witness before and after you might say. The victim was under observation by my sergeant the whole evening and I expect he can tell you what she ate, how many glasses of champagne she drank, who she talked to. . everything but how she died.’
‘Well, that’s obvious,’ said the pathologist. ‘Hardly need to open my bag but I’ll go through the motions. Better get this one right, I think!’ He knelt and studied the body. ‘All observations are subject to further elaboration and adjustment following a complete PM, you understand, but I’ll give you my first impressions if that’s a help.’
Joe nodded.
‘I’ll just take the temperature to confirm time of death,’ he warned.
Joe and Cottingham discreetly looked the other way while he did this.
‘She’s been murdered. By a series of blows about the head delivered with some force or passion — five or six — by a blunt instrument. We’ll probably discover her skull’s smashed. The profile of one of the wounds — look, this one here across the left cheek — is so clear you can tell it was a long thin implement. Can anyone see a bloodstained poker about the place by any chance?’
‘Fire dogs in the hearth, sir,’ said the inspector. ‘Thrown about but there’s shovel, brush and tongs present. No poker. None observable so unless it’s wedged under the corpse it left with the killer.’
‘Not under the body,’ said the doctor, easing it over.
Joe glanced at the window. ‘How very odd,’ he said.
The pathologist checked his thermometer. ‘Almost two degrees temperature loss so that confirms what you’re telling me.’ He turned his attention from the body to the bloodstains spattering the walls, carpet and furniture. ‘You know, judging by the intensity of the flow, I’d say that the first and most violent blow was struck right here on the rug in front of the fireplace. Someone lost his temper, helped himself to the poker and hit her. Scalp bleeds freely, you know. I’m looking at that spurt of gore there. . reaches as far as that chair. Turn it back on to its feet and you’ll see what I mean.’
‘Got it, sir,’ said Cottingham quietly.
‘Even odder,’ said Joe.
Parry pointed to further bloodstains. ‘Then she reeled away. . fought him off. . and did a sort of danse macabre around the room until the coup de grâce was delivered and she collapsed where we see her now. It could have been noisy, Sandilands. Someone might have heard her screaming. There’s bruising on her hands and lower arms where she’s fended off the blows so she must have remained conscious for a while.’
‘Her clothing appears to be disarranged, Parry,’ said Joe. ‘Any views at this stage?’
‘Shan’t be able to tell you if she’s been subjected to an attack of a sexual nature until I’ve examined the body at the hospital but. . oh, I don’t know. . time of the essence and all that. .’ Joe went to inspect Cottingham’s drawing while the pathologist probed more deeply into their problem. ‘This is a bit queer,’ Parry said finally. ‘It looks as though she’s been interfered with. . dress torn, breasts — you’d almost say on display, wouldn’t you? — but down below everything appears to be shipshape and Bristol fashion. She’s got on one of those all-in-ones. . what do they call ’ems?’
‘Camiknickers,’ supplied Westhorpe from the doorway.
‘Thank you, miss,’ said Parry, looking from Joe to Westhorpe in astonishment.
‘It’s Constable, sir,’ said Westhorpe and she retreated back into the bathroom.
‘Indeed! Yes, well, these garments are all in one piece and button up the front. Camiknickers, as the young lady says. Make a girl practically impregnable,’ he smiled, ‘and I use the word advisedly. And all the buttons are done up. But, as I say, I’ll have more for you later.’
The doctor stood and replaced his equipment in his bag. He stood for a moment looking thoughtfully down at the body. ‘What a waste! Spectacular-looking woman! Was she someone?’
Joe made a further introduction, giving Dame Beatrice the dignity he felt she was due even in death.
Dr Parry whistled. ‘Oh, I see. That explains the clipped tones and the urgency on the telephone. Well, good luck with it, Commander!. . Inspector. . I’ll send a couple of my chaps up in, shall we say, twenty minutes to take the body away. There’s a back staircase they can use, I understand. Won’t be the first time a famous face has been spirited off the premises of a grand hotel.’
A police photographer arrived and subjected Dame Beatrice to a last indignity, speedily and efficiently recording the scene as he knew the Commander liked it done. The hotel manager paid a visit to the corpse and, in deference perhaps to the status of his guest, escorted the coffin, forging ahead of it like a Thames tug as it was discreetly conveyed down the back stairs. Joe wondered whether the hotel kept a spare coffin permanently on hand or whether the obliging Dr Parry had provided.
‘One last task for tonight, Cottingham, before I send you to your bed — would you go down and have a word with the reporter they’re detaining? You may give him the outline of the crime but not, of course, the victim’s name yet. . next of kin to be informed and all that. . and then I want you to find out how he was alerted. His source may also be a witness. Don’t stand any nonsense. Get the truth. I need a name.’