‘That would be Angus Smythe, from the Radcliffe Infirmary in Oxford,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen him at forensic meetings. He must be nearing retirement by now.’
‘He came up to Stratford two days after the first post-mortem and examined the body again, taking a number of samples. Again he declined to give a definitive cause of death until the results of various tests were available. However, while they were still in the mortuary there, he did say to the first pathologist in the presence of the coroner’s officer that if nothing further materialized, he said he saw no reason why the cancer could not have been the cause of death.’
Leonard Atkinson, the ‘junior’ counsel, though he must have been at least fifty years of age, also felt he must contribute something to earn his conference fee. ‘But a week later, when the results from the laboratory were available, Angus Smythe sent a report to the coroner and the police, saying that he was now of the opinion that the immediate cause of death was potassium poisoning.’
Nathan Prideaux gestured at his empty coffee cup and the silent young lady refilled it from the tall pot on her tray.
‘From then on, it was all downhill!’ he boomed. ‘Samuel Parker was interviewed several times by the police and two weeks later, after they had sought the advice of the Director of Public Prosecutions, he was arrested and charged with murder.’
‘When it went before the magistrates, I tried to get bail,’ said his solicitor. ‘They refused, so he’s been on remand in Gloucester Prison since last June. He was committed for trial two months ago, where we reserved our defence.’
The London barrister settled back with his cup of coffee.
‘I’ve come late to this case, Dr Pryor, so perhaps you could summarize exactly what the prosecution medical evidence amounts to – and what we can do to counter it.’
Richard folded his hands on top of his papers, as he knew the facts by heart after hours of reading.
‘Dr Smythe said that he could find no immediate cause of death, such as a coronary or a pulmonary embolus. The morphine levels were substantial, but not in a lethal range. No barbiturates were present, so Pentothal could not be implicated. He admitted that advanced pancreatic cancer with multiple secondary growths were present, but analysis of blood plasma, cerebrospinal fluid and the fluid from the vitreous of the eye showed high concentrations of potassium. He considered this last one quite abnormal and could see no other explanation but that a significant quantity of a potassium compound had been administered.’
‘Why would Angus Smythe have taken samples from the spinal fluid and the eye fluid?’ barked the QC. ‘I can understand the use of blood samples – they are the obvious source of most analyses I’ve dealt with – but why these more exotic ones?’
Richard automatically slipped into lecturer mode.
‘It’s been known for many years that blood is rapidly contaminated and altered after death, so that many substances diffuse around and their concentration bears little comparison to their level during life – especially for small molecules like sodium, chloride and potassium. However, the eye and to a lesser extent the spinal fluid are in compartments relatively isolated from other tissues and may retain the living levels more accurately.’
The others digested this explanation in silence until Nathan Prideaux snapped another question. ‘And what do you think of his findings, doctor?’
Richard considered this slowly, then made a careful reply. ‘Until I was asked to look into this case, I would have agreed with him, as they have been the accepted wisdom for many years. But some very recent research, which is still ongoing and published only in preliminary report form at scientific meetings, casts doubt on his opinion.’
He paused before continuing even more carefully. ‘In addition, there is another factor, known to physiologists but perhaps not to pathologists unless, like myself, they had specifically to seek it out.’
He then spent a quarter of an hour in laying out, in as non-medical language as he could manage for such a technical subject, why he thought Angus Smythe could be challenged.
After a number of supplementary questions by both barristers, the leading counsel again cut to the core of the matter.
‘You say that one part of your hypothesis rests on very recent work, not yet published in the scientific journals. So how did you come across it, Dr Pryor?’
‘I recall sitting through a paper presented at an International Forensic Congress in Brussels last year, when a German researcher gave a short account of his preliminary findings. That led me to delve in what little literature there was about vitreous humour, which is the jelly-like fluid inside the eyeball.’
The meeting in Belgium was one he had come from Singapore to attend, afterwards taking the opportunity to visit Britain to deal with his aunt’s will and to finalize legal affairs concerning his divorce. It was also the meeting where he met Angela Bray and hatched their scheme to turn Garth House into a private consultancy.
Nathan Prideaux’s leonine features became set in a scowl.
‘So how are we to place your contradiction of Dr Smythe’s opinion before the court in a form strong enough to convince a jury, if there is no published data to support it?’
Richard had anticipated this challenge and was ready with answers. ‘The first proposition is no problem, as it can be supported by well-known authoritative textbooks – and if needs be, calling established experts in physiology. The other one, which is so new as not to have percolated into the forensic literature, will need direct contact with the pioneers of this technique.’
‘And how do we do that, may I ask?’ demanded the QC.
‘With your agreement, I could contact the man I heard give the lecture in Brussels to confirm his findings and possibly to learn of others who may be following up the same line of research.’
‘Where is this person, d’you know?’ queried the junior counsel.
‘Last night I looked up the old programme from that Belgian meeting and found his name and academic affiliation. He is a Professor Wolfgang Braun from the University of Cologne in Germany.’
‘Presumably he speaks English, if he gave that lecture you heard,’ growled Prideaux. ‘Unless you are fluent in German, perhaps?’
Richard grinned. ‘Not a word, I’m afraid. But Professor Braun was quite proficient in English.’
The two barristers looked questioningly at each other.
‘Time is of the essence, doctor. We have only a fortnight before trial,’ said Leonard Atkinson. ‘If these foreign gentlemen have anything useful, we would have to arrange to get sworn statements made by lawyers in their home countries.’
‘Or even get them over here in person to give evidence,’ snapped Prideaux. ‘I think that you are going to have a busy time for the next few days, Dr Pryor.’
The discussion went on for a time, but they all knew that they were dependent on the results of Richard’s labours if this tenuous defence ploy was to be firmed up sufficiently to be used in court.
On the way out, Richard found himself talking to the solicitor, George Lovesey, as they went down the stairs.
‘Keep in touch, doctor,’ said the lawyer. ‘Every day if necessary, as time is breathing down our neck. Spend what you like on phone calls overseas, as long as you get some results!’
As he went to his car and started the journey to Merthyr, Richard hoped that his optimism about contacting Professor Braun and getting something useful from him was justified.
It certainly looked like a busy week ahead.
TWELVE
He arrived at his parents’ home in the early afternoon, to be faced with a huge cooked lunch that his mother had waiting for him. This was the usual routine for his weekend visits, Lily Pryor trying to make up for the two decades since he last lived at home. She was convinced that he had not been fed well enough through all these years, ignoring his normal wiry body, which he inherited from his equally stringy father.