A Death in the Family by Hazel Holt Page A

I can’t explain, but it didn’t seem like a murder at all.’
    ‘It wasn’t.’
    My hand shook as I was pouring the tea, splashing it into the saucer.
    ‘But – but I was there, I
saw
him.’
    ‘You saw a dead man in a chair, but he hadn’t been murdered.’
    ‘He’d been struck on the head,’ I said. ‘I saw the blood.’
    ‘Very little blood, though.’
    ‘Well, yes – I can remember thinking…’
    ‘That’s because he was already dead when someone hit him on the head.’
    ‘Already dead?’ I echoed stupidly.
    ‘We have the forensic report. He died of a heart attack.’
    ‘No! When?’
    ‘The times are a bit tight, but they think there was a gap of about an hour between his heart giving out and the attack by whoever it was.’
    ‘He must have died soon after Janet left,’ I said. ‘Of course! She said he’d been complaining of indigestion all afternoon, that’s why she stopped off at the supermarket to get some tablets for him. What an extraordinary thing!’ I got a fresh saucer and poured the tea. ‘But surely,’ I said, ‘the burglar would have seen that he was dead, wouldn’t he?’
    ‘Not necessarily. He was sitting in that low-backed chair, with his head back and his eyes closed. The burglar – if it was a burglar – may have thought that he was asleep.’
    ‘I suppose that’s possible,’ I conceded.
    ‘Though, actually, I’m not really sold on the idea that it was a burglar.’
    ‘But there was a forced entry,’ I said. ‘That smashed glass panel in the back door and the frontdoor left open when he – the burglar that is – panicked and ran away.’
    ‘Hmm, yes, but it all looks a bit pat, don’t you think?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Just what you’d expect to find if there had been a burglary – the sort of thing you see in television cop drama – all carefully set up.’
    ‘Well, yes, I see what you mean. And, of course,’ I added, ‘nothing was taken.’
    ‘Exactly.’
    ‘But if the burglar hit Bernard over the head, not realising he was dead and then saw that he
was
, and thought he’d killed him, then he’d panic and run away.’
    ‘True. But I still think the whole set-up is too good to be true.’
    ‘But if it isn’t a burglary that went wrong, what
is
it?’
    ‘How about attempted murder?’
    ‘But the whole thing’s bizarre!’
    ‘That’s one way of putting it.’
    ‘And really horrible,’ I went on, ‘if you come to think of it. Striking a dead person.’
    ‘But if you didn’t know he was dead? Which is worse – murder or this?’
    ‘If you put it like that, I suppose… But presumably if you catch whoever it was, they’d be guilty of murder, wouldn’t they?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘But what would they be guilty of?’
    ‘In this particular case? I daresay we could have them for breaking and entering.’
    ‘And that’s all?’
    ‘In law, hitting a dead person over the head is not a criminal offence.’
    ‘Good heavens. Not even grievous bodily harm?’
    ‘Not in this case.’
    I drank the rest of my tea in an effort to clear my mind.
    ‘Does Janet know?’ I asked.
    ‘Yes. I saw her and her daughter at the station before I came to see you.’
    ‘Poor Janet. How did she take it?’
    ‘She was very upset. I’m afraid she more or less collapsed. Her daughter took her home. Not, however, before she – the daughter that is – favoured me with several scathing comments concerning police inefficiency, with especial reference to our outdated and dilatory methods. She was particularly concerned that I couldn’t give her the date of the inquest or when the body would be released. Apparently the entire educational system of the Southwest has had to be put on hold until she gets back.’
    ‘There will be one, then? An inquest, I mean.’
    ‘The circumstances are unusual enough to warrant one, certainly. I imagine it will simply confirm that death was from natural causes.’
    I shook my head. ‘I just can’t take it