A Grave Coffin. Gwendoline Butler
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forensic workers were still going over the ground. Other men were slowly searching the little patch of woodland.
‘Looking for anything,’ said Archie Young. ‘Not much to go on so far …’
‘Except the bloody clothes. And the other limb.’
‘Already in the lab being gone over.’
A tall woman appeared through the bushes. “Afternoon, sir.’
Coffin smiled and held out his hand. ‘Inspector Devlin. I believe I saw you at a party my wife gave in the theatre.’
‘I’m one of her fans, go to nearly everything she does – I think she’s brilliant. And I was in the audience for you, sir, when you talked to us about advances in communication-techniques crime.’
‘You’ve got a nasty one here,’ said Coffin.
Paddy Devlin gave Archie Young a quick look. ‘Yes,’ she said to Coffin. ‘We are giving of our best, I can promise you.’
‘I just wanted to come and look.’
‘Glad you did, sir.’
He looked up the slope of the hill. ‘How was the body brought here? Or was he killed on the spot?’
‘No, it looks as though he had been dead a day or two before he was buried here. As for being brought here …’ She shrugged. ‘You could park a car on the road up there, it’s very deserted at night, then carry the body down, or use a market trolley. You wouldn’t have to pinch one, plenty of them left around the streets.’
Coffin took a few paces through the trees, looking towards the road. ‘I think you are right. There will be traces left.’
‘Forensic think they have found some … marks on the ground, broken branches on the bushes.’
‘Good.’ He looked from Inspector Devlin to Archie Young. ‘I would like to speak to the boy’s father myself. All right?’
‘I think Dr Chinner went back to work … It’s a one-man practice and he felt he must do. On the Attlee Estate, no one else will work there.’
‘I’ll drive you,’ said Archie.
Coffin still had his eyes on Inspector Devlin as they drove away. ‘I hope she’s up to it.’
‘She certainly is.’ Archie spoke out loud and clear. ‘One of the best we’ve got. I can’t say what state Chinner will be in; he had himself under control but it may not have lasted … and I wouldn’t blame him.’
‘What about the mother?’
‘She’s dead. Geoff and I knew each other at school, and we were neighbours … he always had this missionary, must-help-the-public, spirit, that’s why he works in the Attlee bunker. It is that … metal grilles on the windows, special locks on the door … broken into about once a week even then.’
‘I can imagine.’
Archie Young drove efficiently towards the Attlee Estate, straight up to the surgery which did indeed have an embattled air, but where the outside windows were newly painted and there was a flower in a pot on the outer windowsill.
‘I hope he’s got that geranium nailed down,’ said Archie as he parked. ‘Or perhaps he takes it home at night.’
‘He doesn’t live over the shop?’
‘No, would you? Got a nice house round the corner from me in Oakwood Drive … but neglected since his wife died.’
‘Keeps this place up, though,’ said Coffin, getting out of the car.
Archie did not answer, he was already striding forward to Dr Chinner’s surgery.
The waiting room was not crowded: an old man with a stick and bent back, a woman with a baby on her lap, and a dog that seemed to have come in for attention on his own – he had a bandaged leg.
‘Thank God I haven’t got Gus with me, he’d probably join the queue.’ He knew, as any dog owner does, that dogs are terrible hypochondriacs.
Dr Chinner appeared, ushering out the last patient, a woman with her child. ‘There’s that dog again,’ he said. ‘Why can’t he go home. Hop it, Jason.’
Jason did not.
‘He thinks he’s your dog, you see. Doctor,’ volunteered the old man.
‘I expect he will be in the end,’ said the doctor. He looked at Archie and Coffin, gave them a nod, and said that they could have five minutes and no more.
Coffin thought that he had never seen a man holding the pressure inside him down more strongly and dangerously: he might explode any minute … You’d think a doctor would know, he said silently. Dr Chinner was a short man with a crest of red hair and bright-blue eyes. Normally he must have looked friendly and approachable. No mean feat as a professional working on the Attlee Estate.
‘I will tell you anything I can, answer any questions, but get on with it, please.’
Coffin hesitated. ‘I don’t have a question, Doctor. I just came to offer my sympathy. I am very, very, sorry. We will do all we can to get the man who did it.’
Thank you. Thank you.’ There was a bare admission in his tone that he recognized it for an act of kindness, and that he knew the Chief Commander.
He had not asked them to sit down, nor did he now. He had never even quite closed the door to his surgery.
Coffin looked at Archie, who went forward and patted his friend on the shoulder. ‘I’ll come round to see you later. Or you can come to us … what about a meal?’
Dr Chinner nodded, but it was not exactly a yes, or a no. ‘Thanks for coming. I think I am better on my own just at the moment, Archie.’
He held the door for them, and as they went out, he said: ‘Next patient.’ And the dog got up and trotted in.
‘So what did you make of that?’ asked Archie as they drove away. He had sensed a query behind Coffin’s polite goodbye.
‘Well, he’s good with dogs.’
‘Seriously.’
Coffin shook his head. ‘I know we start with the family, but I don’t think he killed his son.’
‘No,’ said Archie fiercely. ‘So?’
‘But don’t let friendship blind you – I think he knows something.’
Archie said nothing as he sat hunched over the driving wheel. ‘Drive you back, sir, shall I?’
They parted with not much more said. Archie was disconcerted, angry and uneasy.
At the school, the Royal Road Comprehensive, the day had ended, but small groups hung around the playground, skateboarding, rollerblading, or just talking and scuffling in the dust with a football. It was not encouraged that they should do this, but not forbidden either.
One group were skateboarding but coming back together to talk. Just a quick comment, they were not into long conversations, dialogue was an adult skill not altogether mastered. This group was well informed, picking up scraps of information and assessing them. To be well informed, you have to be interested, and this group, four boys and two girls, were very interested.
‘We have to be,’ said one to another. ‘It’s up to us. And we ought to do something.’
‘What?’ said his friend, the same age more or less, but female.
‘I’m thinking.’
‘My parents stop talking when I come into the room,’ the girl said, and she laughed.
‘Tell you what,’ her companion said: ‘We ought to get someone to say something.’
Coffin went to his office, and collected Augustus.