Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(91)

‘I know that.’ Daniel already felt himself getting defensive. And the police surgeon, Grisewood, and probably the judge also would give her a far harder time than Kitteridge did. ‘She’ll bring only the evidence she can show them. I know her word won’t serve anything, even though she knows more than all of them put together.’

Kitteridge smiled lopsidedly. ‘Don’t let your temper show, Pitt. Righteous indignation has its place, and this isn’t it. Listen to me – I know what I’m talking about.’

Daniel did not argue. They had been over this before. His indignation wouldn’t help at all. But the jury’s might. He wanted the jury to feel for Ebony, and Sarah. And for Arthur, too, if it helped. ‘We’ve got to prepare for tomorrow,’ he said instead. ‘Feel like an early supper at the Boar’s Head, before we begin in earnest?’

‘Good idea,’ Kitteridge agreed immediately.

The following morning, Grisewood called the police surgeon, as expected. He was a sympathetic figure and gave the facts as he had observed them, precisely as Grisewood asked. He described the disfiguring in detail, but without ascribing any emotion.

When it was Daniel’s turn to question him, he rose to his feet, determined to treat the man with a respect the jury would see.

‘Good morning, Dr French. You have given us a very detailed, yet completely understandable picture of what must have happened to the body of Winifred Graves. May I ask you one or two further questions?’

‘Of course,’ French replied. He was at least forty years older than Daniel, and his lean, silver-haired look was a distinguished one that the jury would not forget. ‘What do you wish to know?’

‘You believed it was the body of Ebony Graves, because you were told it was. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, I was informed that the daughter, Miss Sarah Graves, had identified it as her mother. The butler also confirmed that, and the lady’s maid identified the clothes.’

‘There was nothing of the body itself that confirmed that to you?’

‘I was not acquainted with Mrs Graves, or Miss Cumberford, as I believe she is more correctly known.’

‘Actually, the woman you examined was Mrs Winifred Graves. Ebony Cumberford is alive and well.’

The moment he had said it, Daniel regretted it. He did not want to antagonise the doctor.

French stiffened. ‘I was told who she was, and had no reason to question it. It was the body of a woman of perhaps sixty or so, and she had died from a severe blow to the back of the head. The damage to her face, neck, and shoulders was inflicted after death. That is all I testify to.’

‘No one doubts you, Dr French. Can you tell me what caused the burning? More than extreme heat, of course.’

Several expressions crossed French’s face, finally a degree of interest. ‘No. I was asked to ascertain whether it was before or after death, and whether it could be accidental. It could not.’

‘Does flesh burn easily?’

‘It blisters easily. It does not ignite. Anyone who has burned themselves is painfully aware of that. If you are asking me how the burning happened, I do not know. I was only required to say that it was not caused by falling into the fire, or by coming in contact with burning logs, or a domestic iron for clothes.’

‘Or some other, more deliberate act?’

‘If you say so, sir. I cannot see how that serves your client.’

‘It serves only to prove that she is telling the truth. Thank you. Oh, before you go! Did you find any evidence on the body of broken bones? Or scars from having been beaten?’

‘If I had, young man, I would have reported it, as a matter of course. There were old scars, well healed, which could have been caused in any number of ways. They are all at least twenty years old.’

‘Dating from the time of her marriage to Mr Graves?’

‘Apparently.’ A flash of interest crossed French’s face, then died.

‘Thank you, sir. That is all I have to ask you.’

French inclined his head in a slight bow, and left the stand.

Grisewood’s final witness was Graves himself. The man who climbed the witness stand was outwardly very different from the one who had sat in the dock only a short while ago. At that time, he had been angry, frightened and exhausted, alternating between hope and fear. Today, staying temporarily in London, he stood upright, dressed in an expensive and well-tailored suit, freshly pressed white shirt, and his hair was expertly cut. It altered the whole aspect of his face and his entire bearing.

Grisewood treated him with almost deferential respect. ‘After your recent ordeal, I’m sorry you have to experience this new distress. However, I have to ask you to relive the whole story of your marriage, your difficulties with Ebony Cumberford, and the facts that have brought you to this tragic place.’

Daniel felt a chill of apprehension. He glanced at Kitteridge and saw him shift in his seat, as if he too feared something as yet unknown.

‘You were married to Winifred Graves when you first met Ebony Cumberford, were you not?’

‘Yes. However, we were living apart,’ Graves answered.

‘Did you tell Miss Cumberford that you were married?’

‘Of course.’

‘You were attracted to each other?’

‘Yes, at that time she was a very attractive woman.’