Page 36 of Corpse in the Canal

“On Saturday, he stayed long enough to win from Percy.”

Wills’s lips quirked. “Don’t suppose he saw his winnings, though.”

“Did he have any other enemies in and around Channing?”

“He wasn’t well liked,” Wills said. “But enemies is a strong word.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Harvey,” Constance said, “seem to believe that Mrs. Jenkins at Dare Hall was enticing their son somehow. Do you know anything about that?”

“Only what he said to me in his grief,” Wills said uncomfortably. “But she’s a beautiful woman, bound to catch Mr. Percy’s roving eye. As to any affair between them, I couldn’t say.”

“Did she ever complain to you about him?” Constance asked.

Wills raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh no.” He glanced at the clock on his mantelpiece. “It’s heading for one o’clock. Shall we go to the Duke’s Arms?”

*

The inquest was held in the coffee room. The tables had all been pushed to the back of the room, apart from the large one, behind which sat the coroner and his clerk. The rest of the chairs were set out in rows for witnesses and interested parties. There appeared to be many of the latter, since the Harveys were a prominent family, and the manner of Percy’s death was both horrific and scandalous.

Richard Harvey sat in the front row beside the doctor and two other gentlemen. He kept looking about him, so he saw Solomon and Constance enter with the constable, and instantly beckoned.

“I was hoping you would come,” he said, indicating in a somewhat high-handed manner that they should sit directly behind him. But at least he rose to his feet to acknowledge Constance’s presence, and when he did, his companions rose too. “Gentlemen, these are my guests, Mr. and Mrs. Grey. Allow me to present Sir Felix Everett and Mr. Ellis Thomas, our vicar. You know Dr. Owens, of course…”

They all murmured how-do-you-dos, and Constance and Solomon sat down. The gentlemen resumed their seats and faced front once more, except for Harvey, who said to Solomon, “I doubt this will tell us anything new—bit of a formality, really—but I’m glad you’re present to hear it.”

The proceedings took their usual course, and Solomon took the opportunity to study everyone involved. The coroner, a bluff old gentleman with a military bearing, called George West the lockkeeper to tell how he had discovered the body and, with the help of Fred Baines, dragged it from the canal. West had taken the trouble to shave and dress in a decent coat, and he was clearly enjoying his moment of theatre. However, there was a hardness about his little eyes, and both his mouth and his posture spoke of the kind of brutality Solomon had seen among certain dockers and seamen, people who saw no need to cover their instincts with a veil of civilization.

Solomon could imagine the man beating his wife. And killing Percy without a flicker of remorse.

“He’s a performer,” Constance murmured in Solomon’s ear.

He nodded. West could easily have faked his shock at discovering the body.

“You live right beside the lock, do you not?” the coroner asked, leaning forward. “Did you or your family hear or see anything that might have been either a gunshot or a body hitting the water?”

“We did not,” West declared. “But then, the body could have gone in farther up, nearer Larchford, and entered the lock when it was filled.” At the coroner’s request, he explained to the jury how the lock worked, and when the lock had last been filled and drained.

Constable Wills testified next to being sent for and what he had discovered. “Mr. Percy had been shot, sir, and weighed down with stones in his coat pockets, presumably in the hope he’d stay hidden below the surface.”

A visible tremor passed through the dead man’s father. The doctor was called next and gave his evidence as to the manner of death in a brisk, no-nonsense manner that left the jury in little doubt of the primary cause of Percy’s death.

“The autopsy showed, by the state of the victim’s lungs, that he was dead before he entered the water.”

Harvey let out a painful gasp, and the vicar, Mr. Thomas, gave his knee an awkward pat.

“Shall we wait outside?” Thomas murmured, but Harvey shook his head, his gaze fixed on the doctor.

“Did you manage to retrieve the bullet?” the coroner asked, and Harvey made himself listen to that evidence too.

It was the vicar who looked as if he wished himself anywhere else but there. He looked slightly green as the retrieved bullet was shown to the jury, who were told it had entered the heart and that death would have been more or less instantaneous.

“From a pistol, I’d say,” the coroner opined. “Constable, have you found such a weapon?”

Wills stood up. “No, sir, not yet. We’ve looked up and down that stretch of the canal banks, and the bridge at Larchford, and we’ll be dredging the canal tomorrow.”

“Very good,” the coroner approved. “Can you determine the time of Mr. Harvey’s death, doctor?”

“Not exactly. I’d say he hadn’t been in the water longer than a day or so. Given the evidence of the lockkeeper, I would suspect he died on Thursday afternoon.”