“We haven’t considered that,” said Goodson.
“Down at the south end, I’d reckon,” said Lenox. “To come from any other direction would have meant either passing porters, students, and dons or else scaling a high fence. But it would have been easy enough to come in over the rivers, and the fields in that direction are empty, aren’t they?”
“I suppose that’s right,” said Goodson dubiously. “You mean they were hiding out just past the rivers there?”
“Exactly. Before yesterday the lads were probably south of here, by the least crowded part of the meadow, but still not that far from Oxford.”
It dawned on Goodson how significant this was, and in unison the three men strode south. When they got there they found the ground less worked over by pedestrians. Goodson beckoned to the crime scene, and two constables came over to see him. There were a few walking bridges over the rivers.
“Look on these bridges here for any marks of struggle-”
“Blood,” said Lenox.
“Blood, yes,” Goodson said.
“I would also recommend sending people south of the city, even farther than here,” said Lenox, “to check in the small hotels and the pubs, the little shops, that sort of thing.”
“I will,” said Goodson, noting it down.
As they walked back, Lenox said, “We should all realize the intelligence it took the murderer to disobey his instincts and return to a more populated area to kill George Payson. Of course, the killer’s first thought would have been to go somewhere remote-but it would have taken time, first of all, to find somewhere so remote that a body would remain hidden for long. He didn’t have time to be that careful.”
McConnell said, “I don’t believe it negates your point, Charles, but it’s worth mention that George Payson was dead before he came to lie here. We also learned from the body that he had been sleeping rough, outdoors, at best in barns or lean-tos. Only his face and hands had been recently cleaned.”
“That makes sense.” Lenox puzzled it over. “I suppose you’d better tell me all about the body, McConnell. But first, let’s look at the place where he was found. We can’t properly call it the scene of the crime, unfortunately.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A nybody who has ever studied at Oxford loves Christ Church Meadow. With water to one side and the tall, beautiful college spires to the other, it is quintessentially English, almost like a picture by Constable in which water, grass, and a building so old it seems like part of nature itself all breathe against each other. To Lenox, it was most beautiful in the long golden light of springtime, when its green expanse seemed limitless and the soft water sounds of rowers and punters floated on the air, while in the distance cattle grazed in the lower water meadow. The line of boathouses down at one end was a happy place, too, for a day spent punting with friends along the Cherwell, drinking champagne (or champs, as they called it at Oxford) and eating cold chicken, was as close to heaven as this earth could get. A day of punting could erase weeks of dark Bodleian nights from the memory.
But Lenox pushed these memories aside now and concentrated on the site where George Payson’s body had been fifteen hours before.
There were five or six policemen around the roped-off area, as well as another dozen curious passersby. The men from the force were spending their time either classifying footprints or keeping people back from the site. To Goodson’s credit, they had left the scene in good working order, and the imprint of the body was still visible. Lenox noticed that it was slightly deeper toward the middle.
“The person who dropped George Payson’s body must have been carrying him like this”-Lenox demonstrated-“just the way you carry a bride across the threshold, if you see what I mean, and then simply dropped him.”
“I figured as much,” said Goodson rather testily.
“Oh, certainly,” said Lenox. “This has all been done in a first-rate way-a sight better than some I could name from London might have done. I was only straightening the thing out in my own head. That means, then, that the person’s footprints are probably just ten inches to the left of the body-ah, a dense patch, I see,” he said, responding to Goodson’s pointing out the spot. “I really have to congratulate your thoroughness. The only other point to gather here, then, is that Payson must have been newly dead, garroted only a few moments before the killer dropped him here.”
“Why?” Goodson asked.
“Because the arms were splayed out above the head,” said Lenox, pointing to where the arms had left indentations in the soil. “They were still loose. The killer wouldn’t have carried him with his arms like that. Too unwieldy, too easily noticeable. He left the body as it fell. McConnell, how long would rigor mortis have taken to set in?”
“It can take anywhere from five minutes to two hours, but in this case, given how the body has loosened again, probably on the shorter side-call it fifteen minutes.”
“There you have it, Inspector,” said Lenox.
“What do you mean?”
“Even if the killer had some means of transport, the scene of the murder can’t have been far off at all. And this park is only accessible by foot, which cuts down the distance even further.”
“Ah,” said Goodson, writing on his pad. “So the fight could only have taken place within a fifteen-minute walk of this spot.”
“Call it a four-minute walk, actually-perhaps a six-minute perimeter south of here, figuring that one walks much less quickly when carrying so much weight.”
“All right-I’ll tell the lads.”
“Just a moment,” Lenox said. “What about objects near the body?”
“At the station. Here, Ramsey, take these gentleman to the station when they’re ready to go and show them the box of things we found. All right, Mr. Lenox, Mr. McConnell.” With a nod Goodson walked off to give the men by the river to the south their instructions, stopping on the way to bark at the crowd that had gathered until they dispersed.
Ramsey came over. “On your signal, then,” he said.
Lenox nodded. “Give it ten minutes, if that’s all right?”
“Just as you say.”
When they were alone, McConnell said, “What do you reckon?”
“Well, above all I’m grateful to you for finding a way for us to see this place. My other two thoughts are that we’re dealing with someone remarkably clever and that if there’s no sign of Dabney anytime soon it looks a bit black against him. Now what about the body?”
“We’ve covered some of the details these past few minutes. There’s not much else to tell. He was garroted, but he put up a damn good fight. I’d say the murderer will have some wounds to show for it. It was a standard stud chain garrote.”
“What’s that?”
“A long leather loop with a metal chain on the end.”
“How easy do you reckon it is to acquire one of those?
I most often see scarves or fishing line as garrotes. Piano wire once.”
“Quite easy. It was a stud chain, the kind used to whip horses. You can find one in any stable.”
Lenox thought for a moment, then said, “Go on.”
“There were two other singular circumstances that Morris and I discovered. One, the body was bloody and badly mauled around the face and torso.”
“Unrecognizably so?”
“No, perhaps not, but badly. It’s strange, given how short a time the body was exposed to the elements.”
“Animal wounds?”
“That’s hard to say.”
“What was the other singular circumstance?”
“How closely shorn his hair was.”
“Disguise, I would have thought.”
“On his head, to be sure-but the hair was shorn from all over his body, you know, not just his head.”
“That’s passing strange.”
“We thought so, too.”
The doctor and the detective discussed George Payson’s corpse for another moment and then made their way to look at the objects found around the body with Constable Ramsey.