now, that translated into finding Billy-Boy Davies’s killer.
She punched in a number as she walked slowly back to her car, getting Doc Partridge’s assistant. A few moments later, the pathologist himself was on the line.
‘Hillary, nice to hear from you. Problems?’
‘The William Davies case.’
‘With you. What’s up?’
‘In your opinion, could an eleven-year-old girl have been capable of delivering the fatal blow?’
Over the line, she heard the medico suck his breath in through his teeth. ‘I don’t think so. Hold on, let me get my notes, remind myself of the depth of penetration and the angle.’
Hillary reached her car, and opened all the doors and windows to let the heat out. Lilac trees in a nearby garden wafted a giddying scent on the slight breeze and madeHillary wonder what else she might have done with her life; different choices taken that would now have allowed her to spend such a lovely day without thinking about crime and punishment, guilt and innocence. She’d got a good English degree from an unaffiliated Oxford college – she could have been a librarian or a seller of rare books, maybe even a writer of some sort. A biographer maybe.
‘Hello, Hill?’ Steven Partridge’s voice turned off all idle speculation in an instant. ‘I take it you’re thinking of the younger sister, yeah? How tall would you say she was?’
Of course, Partridge hadn’t seen Celia Davies. ‘I’d say no more than four feet two. Maybe not that.’
‘Then I very much doubt it. Is she stocky?’
‘No – a wisp of a thing.’
‘Then I’d very seriously doubt it,’ Doc Partridge said. ‘Why do you ask?’
Strictly speaking, of course, Hillary was not obliged to tell him. The doc had his area of expertise and she had hers. But they’d worked together for many years now, and she was willing to bend the rules to keep up a good working relationship. Besides, she trusted him to keep any and all salient details on an ongoing investigation firmly to himself. ‘We found her dabs on the murder weapon. Good solid ones, it seems. Both hands.’
SOCO, on finding so many clear fingerprints on the murder weapon, indicating that someone had taken a firm hold on both handles of the shears, had been quick to follow it up. Naturally, they’d dusted down the boy’s bedroom and certain rooms in the family home, and had found an instant match in Celia’s dabs.
‘Hmm. I still don’t think it’s likely, Hillary,’ Doc Partridge said at last.
‘What if she was in a rage?’ Hillary had to press it. She knew from several sources that Celia and her brother were not close – in fact, had probably fought bitterly. If Billy had done something to enrage her, she needed to know if Celia could be on the suspect list. ‘Doesn’t rage give people a boost of strength? Youknow, like desperation does. You hear about mothers ripping off car doors to get children out of burning cars, that sort of thing. Does it work with a real temper tantrum too?’
‘I know what you’re talking about,’ Partridge said instantly. ‘There’ve been several studies done about how the levels of endor … but you don’t want details,’ he caught himself up before he got into full lecture mode. There was another, longer and more thoughtful silence for a moment, then he said slowly, ‘Well, Hillary, I suppose it’s just barely possible. If she caught her brother unaware. But he was stabbed from the front, not the back. And he was a big hefty lad. I can’t see him being unable to fight off his little sister even if she had turned into a veritable hell cat. Sorry, that’s the best I can do. If I was you, I wouldn’t be looking at the sister as a serious suspect at this stage. Not unless you get some strong corroborative evidence.’
Hillary sighed, thanked him and hung up. It was all very well for Steven Partridge to dismiss Celia Davies as a killer, but Hillary couldn’t afford to be so sure. And there were plenty of cases of killer
She punched in a number as she walked slowly back to her car, getting Doc Partridge’s assistant. A few moments later, the pathologist himself was on the line.
‘Hillary, nice to hear from you. Problems?’
‘The William Davies case.’
‘With you. What’s up?’
‘In your opinion, could an eleven-year-old girl have been capable of delivering the fatal blow?’
Over the line, she heard the medico suck his breath in through his teeth. ‘I don’t think so. Hold on, let me get my notes, remind myself of the depth of penetration and the angle.’
Hillary reached her car, and opened all the doors and windows to let the heat out. Lilac trees in a nearby garden wafted a giddying scent on the slight breeze and madeHillary wonder what else she might have done with her life; different choices taken that would now have allowed her to spend such a lovely day without thinking about crime and punishment, guilt and innocence. She’d got a good English degree from an unaffiliated Oxford college – she could have been a librarian or a seller of rare books, maybe even a writer of some sort. A biographer maybe.
‘Hello, Hill?’ Steven Partridge’s voice turned off all idle speculation in an instant. ‘I take it you’re thinking of the younger sister, yeah? How tall would you say she was?’
Of course, Partridge hadn’t seen Celia Davies. ‘I’d say no more than four feet two. Maybe not that.’
‘Then I very much doubt it. Is she stocky?’
‘No – a wisp of a thing.’
‘Then I’d very seriously doubt it,’ Doc Partridge said. ‘Why do you ask?’
Strictly speaking, of course, Hillary was not obliged to tell him. The doc had his area of expertise and she had hers. But they’d worked together for many years now, and she was willing to bend the rules to keep up a good working relationship. Besides, she trusted him to keep any and all salient details on an ongoing investigation firmly to himself. ‘We found her dabs on the murder weapon. Good solid ones, it seems. Both hands.’
SOCO, on finding so many clear fingerprints on the murder weapon, indicating that someone had taken a firm hold on both handles of the shears, had been quick to follow it up. Naturally, they’d dusted down the boy’s bedroom and certain rooms in the family home, and had found an instant match in Celia’s dabs.
‘Hmm. I still don’t think it’s likely, Hillary,’ Doc Partridge said at last.
‘What if she was in a rage?’ Hillary had to press it. She knew from several sources that Celia and her brother were not close – in fact, had probably fought bitterly. If Billy had done something to enrage her, she needed to know if Celia could be on the suspect list. ‘Doesn’t rage give people a boost of strength? Youknow, like desperation does. You hear about mothers ripping off car doors to get children out of burning cars, that sort of thing. Does it work with a real temper tantrum too?’
‘I know what you’re talking about,’ Partridge said instantly. ‘There’ve been several studies done about how the levels of endor … but you don’t want details,’ he caught himself up before he got into full lecture mode. There was another, longer and more thoughtful silence for a moment, then he said slowly, ‘Well, Hillary, I suppose it’s just barely possible. If she caught her brother unaware. But he was stabbed from the front, not the back. And he was a big hefty lad. I can’t see him being unable to fight off his little sister even if she had turned into a veritable hell cat. Sorry, that’s the best I can do. If I was you, I wouldn’t be looking at the sister as a serious suspect at this stage. Not unless you get some strong corroborative evidence.’
Hillary sighed, thanked him and hung up. It was all very well for Steven Partridge to dismiss Celia Davies as a killer, but Hillary couldn’t afford to be so sure. And there were plenty of cases of killer
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