Free Where Death Delights by Bernard Knight

rust in that humid climate.
    When he had finished, he made himself a bacon and egg fry-up in the kitchen, washed down with a bottle of beer from Hancock’s brewery in Cardiff.
    He fervently hoped that the ‘Scottish woman’ as Angela persisted in calling her, would want the job, as he was already fed up with this ‘indoor camping’, especially after the luxury of a houseboy and an amah in the house in Singapore. In fact, the thought of Angela relaxing after a good lunch at her parent’s place, made him suddenly decide to follow her example. Locking up, he drove off on a ninety-minute journey to Merthyr and arrived at his parents’ house in Cefn Coed in time for tea.
    Though he had stayed with them after returning from Singapore, while waiting for Garth House to become available, they were delighted to see him. During his long years abroad, he had only managed two visits home and it was now pleasant for them to have him in the next county. By seven o’clock, he was slumped in an armchair, replete after a massive meal that his mother had cooked, telling them all the details of this first week in the new venture. His father had helped with the burden of financing it, buying him the car and a new binocular microscope, as well as some other equipment, so he was happy that his son seemed confident that this rather risky endeavour was going to succeed.
    As the evening wore on, he gave in to his mother’s persuasion and decided to spend the night there, sleeping in his old room, where he had grown up until he went to university. After a morning lie-in and a large Sunday lunch, he drove back home and arrived around four o’clock. As he went into the large empty house, he was surprised to find that he missed Angela’s presence and was looking forward to her coming back that evening.
    Sian had laboriously typed his two post-mortem reports before leaving on Friday and he went to his room at the back of the house to check through them. He signed the one which concluded that the cause of death was ‘myocardial infarction due to coronary thrombosis’, but that relating to the woman would have to wait until Sian did her analysis for barbiturates.
    He was looking at the reports, typed on plain foolscap paper, and was contemplating having standard forms printed with their partnership names at the top, when he heard the phone ringing. It was in the hall, just outside his room and he answered to find that it was the coroner’s brother, Peter Meredith.
    After some polite introductions, the Swansea barrister explained that he was involved only as a ‘go-between’ and the person seeking advice was a professional friend of his, Leonard Massey, QC, of the Middle Temple.
    What Meredith had to say only strengthened the suspense, as Richard related with relish when Angela returned soon afterwards. He sat her in the staff lounge and brought in a tray of tea and biscuits from the kitchen.
    â€˜A Queen’s Counsel looking for a pathologist down here in the sticks?’ she exclaimed. ‘But why? They’re coming out of the woodwork in London – Keith Simpson, Francis Camps, Donald Teare!’
    After years in the big city, she knew all about the forensic scene there, but Richard shook his head as he poured her a cup of tea.
    â€˜This isn’t to do with one of his trials up there,’ he said. ‘This is personal, for the dead woman involved is his daughter. It seems that he wants a second autopsy – and the first one was done in Swansea.’
    His partner raised her elegant eyebrows. ‘So what was wrong with the first one? How did she die, anyway?’
    Pryor offered her the plate of Peek Frean’s shortcakes, and took one himself after she declined.
    â€˜Peter Meredith didn’t know much about it himself, but said that it was reported to the coroner and that it was said to be a drowning in the sea.’
    â€˜So where do we go from here?’