Free Norton, Andre - Novel 39 by The Jekyll Legacy (v1.0) Page A

the time he met his death;
as such, hardly the place in which to seek comfort and consolation. Still, he
supposed one had to make the best of it, and Mrs. Poole could hardly be expected
to sleep on the floor. Somehow, despite its tragedies, life goes on.
                   And so did the neighbor lady who informed him
of these circumstances. Or would have gone on and on if the
inspector hadn't cut her short, thanked her, and made his departure. He
had no time to waste on gossip and hearsay; tomorrow morning there'd be a
coroner's inquest from which the facts might be forthcoming.
                   Autopsy reports, official findings of police
officers at the scene of the crime, answers to questions addressed to Mrs.
Poole under oath—this was the stuff clues were made of. Despite the ongoing
petty rivalries between Metropolitan and City police, formal inquest
proceedings were open to the public and Newcomen intended to be present even if
only in the role of a private citizen.
                   It was not meant to be. Unfortunately, in his
role as inspector he spent the morning of the inquest in the apprehension and
detention of one Archibald Hix, who had been discovered jimmying open the rear
door of a haberdashery just off Regent Street . The arrest itself was a simple matter; not
so, however, the tedious paperwork required thereafter. And by the time
Newcomen was free to extract the watch from his vest pocket, the inquest was
long over.
                   Allowing for the equally tedious task of transcribing
its findings at City Police Headquarters, Newcomen realized he must somehow
contain himself for yet another day until he could hope to secure a copy.
                   This he somehow managed to do, and on the
afternoon of the day following, paid a call to Old Jewry Street , identified himself, and received a
transcript grudgingly given.
                   The findings of one Dr. Angus Blystone were,
as might have been anticipated, of little help. The deceased had suffered a
fractured skull—Newcomen made no effort to set down the sawbones' medical
Latin—contusions on and about the face and neck, plus broken bones in both
arms, the fingers of his right hand, and the rib cage. The immediate cause of
death was a massive cerebral hemorrhage at the point where the skull had been crushed
by a blow or blows from an unspecified blunt object or instrument.
                   Meaning they didn't know a bloody thing about
what had happened, or how. Newcomen scowled to himself as he read the familiar
phrases woven to form a threadbare but convenient cloak for ignorance.
                   Only two brief bits of testimony from the City
detectives offered some slight enlightenment. The first reported the presence
of bloodstains on the upper surface of the shabby sheet that did double duty as
a bedspread. The second involved the absence of anything that might have served
as the murder weapon.
                   Presence —the murderer had surprised Poole and probably struck the first blows even as
he awakened; then, staggering upright, he was battered to the floor.
                   Absence —the murderer came armed, or else had
found something in the room for use as a weapon and subsequently carried it
away upon departure.
                   But when asked, Mrs. Poole had been unable to
specify that anything was missing that might have served a deadly purpose. For
that matter, when asked, Mrs. Poole was not too specific about anything.
                   Newcomen's frown deepened as he went over her
answers given at the inquest, which did little to augment what the newspapers
had already reported. No, she could not account for her late husband's
depressed state nor his recent overindulgence in drink
except that both seemed the result of losing his position. No, they hadn't
quarreled. No, Edgar didn't have an enemy in