deaths, probably three to four months ago. Get the picture?'
It was a typical Saafeld diagnosis. Not a wasted word. He conjured up a vivid picture without a trace of the dramatic. The fiercest defence counsel, cross-examining him in the witness box, trod warily. One had confessed to Tweed he'd sooner have any other pathologist to confront than Saafeld.
'Yes,' Tweed said. 'Just an opinion. A psychotic at work?'
'Meet one in the street, man or woman, and you'd think they were perfectly normal. I suspect there has to be a psychotic streak in this killer. Why carve out chunks of flesh?'
'Any signs of a struggle put up by the victims?' Paula enquired.
'Can't say with those two on Dartmoor. As regards Christine Barton, I don't think so. Fingernails were intact. Not a trace of someone's skin under them.'
'Suggests she knew the killer,' Tweed mused.
'That's your job.'
'The fact,' Tweed continued musing aloud, 'that two were found on Dartmoor, one in London, wipes out certain vague theories I was developing. Anything special about the knife used?'
'Not really.' Saafeld drank more tea, shrugged. 'You can find that kind of knife in any kitchen, maybe one of the tools in a carpenter's kit. Who knows?'
'I appreciate the data you've given us.'
'Not much to go on.' Saafeld ate a cake swiftly. He gave one of his rare smiles. 'Expect you'd hoped I'd be able to say look for a man six feet tall, dark hair and with bony wrists. Can't oblige you.'
'Then we'd better go. Thank Mrs Saafeld for the tea. The cakes were home-made, I'm sure.'
'Sit down. I did find something that might help.' From his pocket he produced a transparent evidence envelope. Tweed and Paula could see inside a gold ring embedded with a large diamond. Saafeld held up the envelope tantalizingly. It was a typical manoeuvre of the pathologist. He enjoyed surprising people. 'When you get it back to your office look at the interior under a glass. There's an inscription.'
'Can I ask you where you found it?'
'It was just before I decided I'd done all I could. The ambulances had taken away the two skeletons; the police, including Buchanan, had flown off in their chopper. One local uniformed bobby was left to keep watch on the tape surrounding the key areas. Not too bright. He started to smoke a pipe. Had to tell him to put it out. If he dropped ash it might be confusing evidence. He marched off towards Post Lacey. I still had the telescopic ladder - could easily take that away in my car. Something made me go down inside the mine shaft where the woman's body was discovered. It was broad daylight. I used a stick to poke among the debrisj found that ring.'
'You think then that it was originally on a finger of the skeletal woman?'
'Seems likely. The killer missed it. So did the police.'
'And the inscription reads?'
'"From Lee to Lucinda".'
'It's weird.' Paula commented as Tweed drove them back to his office. 'Lee could be the name of a man or a woman.'
'Could be.'
Tweed had the evidence envelope containing the ring inside his pocket. He also had two sheets, headed 'Your skeleton' and 'Mine shaft skeleton'. The first contained Saafeld's estimate of the height, possible weight and age of the skeleton they had discovered while walking behind Michael up the track. The other sheet contained the same data about the woman in the mine shaft. Possible age ranges were also given.
'Don't forget your date with Lucinda tomorrow,' Paula teased him. 'You'll have to wear something suitable. For Lucinda you need that smart grey suit.'
'Bossy. And don't you forget your date with Keith Kent. And turn up on time. He's a stickler for punctuality.'
'I asked for that. Poor Christine must be some accountant. I never heard Keith say before it may take some time to sort out.'
'Another thing,' Tweed told her as they approached Park Crescent, 'I've asked Newman to dig up a complete biography on Abel Gallagher. I was alarmed when he let slip he knew we'd been to Abbey Grange. How on earth could
It was a typical Saafeld diagnosis. Not a wasted word. He conjured up a vivid picture without a trace of the dramatic. The fiercest defence counsel, cross-examining him in the witness box, trod warily. One had confessed to Tweed he'd sooner have any other pathologist to confront than Saafeld.
'Yes,' Tweed said. 'Just an opinion. A psychotic at work?'
'Meet one in the street, man or woman, and you'd think they were perfectly normal. I suspect there has to be a psychotic streak in this killer. Why carve out chunks of flesh?'
'Any signs of a struggle put up by the victims?' Paula enquired.
'Can't say with those two on Dartmoor. As regards Christine Barton, I don't think so. Fingernails were intact. Not a trace of someone's skin under them.'
'Suggests she knew the killer,' Tweed mused.
'That's your job.'
'The fact,' Tweed continued musing aloud, 'that two were found on Dartmoor, one in London, wipes out certain vague theories I was developing. Anything special about the knife used?'
'Not really.' Saafeld drank more tea, shrugged. 'You can find that kind of knife in any kitchen, maybe one of the tools in a carpenter's kit. Who knows?'
'I appreciate the data you've given us.'
'Not much to go on.' Saafeld ate a cake swiftly. He gave one of his rare smiles. 'Expect you'd hoped I'd be able to say look for a man six feet tall, dark hair and with bony wrists. Can't oblige you.'
'Then we'd better go. Thank Mrs Saafeld for the tea. The cakes were home-made, I'm sure.'
'Sit down. I did find something that might help.' From his pocket he produced a transparent evidence envelope. Tweed and Paula could see inside a gold ring embedded with a large diamond. Saafeld held up the envelope tantalizingly. It was a typical manoeuvre of the pathologist. He enjoyed surprising people. 'When you get it back to your office look at the interior under a glass. There's an inscription.'
'Can I ask you where you found it?'
'It was just before I decided I'd done all I could. The ambulances had taken away the two skeletons; the police, including Buchanan, had flown off in their chopper. One local uniformed bobby was left to keep watch on the tape surrounding the key areas. Not too bright. He started to smoke a pipe. Had to tell him to put it out. If he dropped ash it might be confusing evidence. He marched off towards Post Lacey. I still had the telescopic ladder - could easily take that away in my car. Something made me go down inside the mine shaft where the woman's body was discovered. It was broad daylight. I used a stick to poke among the debrisj found that ring.'
'You think then that it was originally on a finger of the skeletal woman?'
'Seems likely. The killer missed it. So did the police.'
'And the inscription reads?'
'"From Lee to Lucinda".'
'It's weird.' Paula commented as Tweed drove them back to his office. 'Lee could be the name of a man or a woman.'
'Could be.'
Tweed had the evidence envelope containing the ring inside his pocket. He also had two sheets, headed 'Your skeleton' and 'Mine shaft skeleton'. The first contained Saafeld's estimate of the height, possible weight and age of the skeleton they had discovered while walking behind Michael up the track. The other sheet contained the same data about the woman in the mine shaft. Possible age ranges were also given.
'Don't forget your date with Lucinda tomorrow,' Paula teased him. 'You'll have to wear something suitable. For Lucinda you need that smart grey suit.'
'Bossy. And don't you forget your date with Keith Kent. And turn up on time. He's a stickler for punctuality.'
'I asked for that. Poor Christine must be some accountant. I never heard Keith say before it may take some time to sort out.'
'Another thing,' Tweed told her as they approached Park Crescent, 'I've asked Newman to dig up a complete biography on Abel Gallagher. I was alarmed when he let slip he knew we'd been to Abbey Grange. How on earth could
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