The Lately Deceased by Bernard Knight Page A

evening about the existence of the barbecue, they had traced the brazier and accessories to a firm of caterers to which the bartender had returned the outfit. Luckily, or so the police thought at the time, the set had not been issued again and the whole lot, comprising some thirty long skewers was turned over to Scotland Yard for laboratory tests. The tests had been a waste of time since each skewer had been washed and polished by the conscientious Edwards before being returned. The laboratory had done a preliminary test with benzidine peroxide for blood and got a positive in seventeen cases. The reason for the negative results in the remainder was evident in the discolouration of the metal that had come from overheating.
    It had been pointless to try specific tests for human blood, as the screening test could pick up only a few parts per million. To have proved that it was human, far more material than the quite invisible traces left on the smooth metal surfaces would have been required.
    â€˜So that was a dead loss,’ summarised Stammers. ‘All I learnt from Pepper was that skewering beefsteaks is about the best way you can think of to confuse the issue, in a case of stabbing. Once a skewer has pronged a chunk of meat, it will give a positive reaction for ever after. The only way to kill the reaction is to heat the metal till it glows red-hot; that explains why some of our samples were positive and some negative.’
    Old Nick mournfully agreed. ‘If the killer had the sense to put the thing back in the barbecue afterwards, he would destroy every trace of blood. And if you ask me, that’s precisely what he did.’
    â€˜Does Dr Chance agree that the wound could have been made with one of these things?’
    â€˜Yes, he says the slight spiral flattening would probably leave no mark on the edges of the wound: but he says that it could equally well have been a round needle or something similar.’
    Stammers rubbed his eyes and looked pointedly at his wristwatch. Grey yawned and stretched his arms above his head in a paroxysm of fatigue.
    â€˜Looks as if you gentlemen are pining for your beds. I suppose there’s nothing more we can do tonight, anyway.’ Meredith assumed his ‘Iron Man’ pose as he looked at his subordinates.
    â€˜What’s the next move, Super?’ asked Syd Grey.
    â€˜Tomorrow we’ll have a last look around the flat. If there’s still nothing there, he’ll have to have it back. Then we’d better have another go at him. He’s suspect number one, though a pretty poor one. If we keep at him, he may drop a clanger sooner or later. That goes for these Leigh people, too.’
    â€˜What about all the others we had here? Do we give them another workout?’ asked Stammers.
    â€˜No point in getting them all in again. We’ll work through the principal ones: the Moores; and Tate; and Eve Arden. Grey, what about that Prince chap? Did you dig up anything from records on him?’
    Grey shook his head. ‘Not a thing on him under any name, but I’ve put the word round over in ‘J’ Division. They told me he used to run an employment agency business in Hackney. Perhaps one of the boys over there may remember him from something where he didn’t get a conviction.’
    The meeting broke up, all possibilities having been thought of and discussed, and the detectives went their separate ways to suburban homes.
    Driving through the cold wetness of the night, Meredith pondered on the difficulties of this case. He was an introverted type of person, preferring to chew over his affairs in his own company rather than thrash them out in meetings such as the one he had just left. His grim personality was more an expression of his preoccupation. Like Stammers and different from Grey, he was a thinker first and a ‘doer’ second, though the action when it came, was decisive and effective.
    As he stared at the wet road