Dialling the overseas operator, he gave her the number of the medical faculty of the University of Cologne in western Germany. He had found the telephone number during his researches in the medical library in Cardiff, in a large directory of all European universities.
The operator said there would be a delay of probably an hour, as on Monday mornings there was always heavy traffic on the lines. He settled back to write out rough drafts of the three post-mortems he had carried out earlier for Moira to type up. He thought again about getting one of the portable tape recorders that could be carried in a case, which would cut out the need for all this pen-pushing. He had heard that some operated off batteries, so they could even be used outdoors at scenes of crime or in mortuaries without mains electricity. He had done a post-mortem a month ago in a cemetery outhouse, where there was no light other than that coming through a small window.
The phone rang about forty minutes later with his call – it must have been a slack Monday in the Federal Republic, he thought wryly. The first problem was language, as all he could manage was ‘Sprechen sie Englisch?’ There was some confused talking at the other end, then, ‘Ein moment, bitte’, and soon another voice came on the line, asking in excellent English whether she could help.
‘I would like to speak to Professor Wolfgang Braun in the Institute of Forensic Medicine, please,’ he asked gratefully.
‘Of course. I will put you through to his secretary,’ came the well-modulated voice. As he waited, he wondered how many switchboard operators in British universities could reply so effectively in German.
Soon he was speaking to Braun’s secretary, who had adequate English, though not so good as the first lady. It turned out that the good professor had just gone to lunch, as Richard had not appreciated the one-hour time difference in Germany. However, the secretary gave him her direct line number to avoid the main university switchboard and asked him to call back in two hours’ time, presumably to allow Wolfgang Braun time for a good meal.
He decided to brave the fashion debate and went into the laboratory to tell Angela that ‘the game’s afoot’, in true Sherlockian style. Moira had gone off to get their lunch ready and soon the quartet was in the kitchen, where the figure-conscious Siân was eating her salad sandwiches and Angela and Richard were tucking in to one of Moira’s specialities, a shepherd’s pie. Between mouthfuls, he told them of the outcome of the Ty Croes Farm affair, Moira staying back for a time from her usual return home for lunch and dog-walking to listen to the unhappy denouement.
‘The whole thing is tragic,’ she observed sadly. ‘All that grief and trouble in two families, just because of some drunken man’s lust!’
Richard saw Angela slightly raise an eyebrow at him and knew she was referring to Moira’s strong sense of morality. He could have said that Betsan and Rhian needn’t have gone along with Tom’s importuning but decided to keep quiet and not contradict Moira’s more puritanical feelings.
‘What will happen now?’ asked Siân.
‘There’ll have to be two inquests, I’m afraid,’ said Richard. ‘Hopefully, the coroner will try to keep much of the scandal out of the public eye, but he’ll have to show the notes to the jury, so I can’t see that the affair with the two wives can be kept quiet. The press will have a field day if they find out about it.’
‘What will the verdicts be, d’you think?’ asked Angela.
‘Has to be suicide in Mostyn Evans’ case. I’m not sure about Littleman,’ he replied. ‘I don’t see how a coroner’s jury could decide between murder and manslaughter with so little evidence available. Maybe “unlawful killing” would cover it, but Mostyn would have to be named as the perpetrator.’
‘A sad business!’ said Moira again. Richard thought that she was a genuinely sympathetic soul, perhaps a little too sensitive to be working in such a morbid trade as forensic medicine.
For dessert, they had junket, something Richard had not tasted since he was a child at home. The strawberry-flavoured milk, solidified with rennet, was new to Angela and she was not sure whether she liked it or not. Coffee soon took the taste away and they sat talking until Richard looked at his watch.
‘Time to talk to Herr Professor!’ he declared and went back to his room. Again there was a half-hour delay in getting connected, but eventually he was speaking to the secretary and then to the scientist himself.
Thankfully, Wolfgang Braun spoke good English, though heavily laced with a Bavarian accent. Richard explained who he was and what his problem was in the case of the veterinary surgeon.
‘I heard you speak in Brussels and wondered whether you had published any of your research yet?’ he asked.
Braun seemed very interested and rather pleased that someone was taking notice of his work.
‘I have accumulated a lot of data but have not yet made it ready for publication,’ he confessed. ‘I have a draft of the paper but need some statistical work done on the results and am waiting for a colleague in the Department of Mathematics to supply that.’
He also told Richard that several other people were working on the same idea, and that he was in contact with them. One was in Chicago, another in Minnesota and both agreed with the general principles of the new idea but had varying experimental results.
Richard groaned to himself at the thought of trying to reach researchers in the middle of the United States, but Wolfgang Braun added: ‘There is also another man in Denmark, who, since I read that paper at Brussels, has been working on the same problem.’
Richard spoke to him for another ten minutes, jotting down the names and addresses of the contacts Braun had mentioned.
‘If necessary, professor, would you be willing to write a short statement for production in court? Our lawyers would arrange that, and I’m sure there would be an expert fee attached for your trouble.’
Again Braun, well used to legal processes, readily agreed, and they parted verbal company in a friendly manner. As soon as he had put the phone down, Richard looked up the number of the solicitor in Stow-on-the-Wold and dialled again. When he was put through to George Lovesey, he told him of his success in contacting Professor Braun.
‘He’s agreed to make a formal statement about his research concerning potassium – and he’s given me further contacts of other researchers.’
‘I’ll get on to a law firm who organize affidavits abroad and get them to send a German advocate to see him,’ replied Lovesey. ‘The trial is only about a fortnight away now, so it will all have to be done by telex and telegram, apart from the actual deposition for court, which will have to be sent by courier or express mail. Anyway, that’s our problem. Who are these other people?’
‘I’m afraid two of them are in the States – the other is in Denmark. Do you want me to contact them as well?’
‘Yes, we always need a belt-and-braces approach, doctor! Don’t worry about the cost – compared with Prideaux’s fees, that will be chicken feed.’
Richard dictated the phone number and address for Wolfgang Braun and told him who the other three experts were.
‘Thankfully, one of our office staff downstairs is German; she married a British officer at the end of the war. I can get her to sort out any language problems when we do our telephoning and the like. Can’t help with Danish, but I’m sure most people there speak English.’
‘Got anyone in your office who speaks American?’ said Richard facetiously, but thankfully George Lovesey laughed down the phone.
‘You’re on your own there, doctor. Best of luck!’
Though Braun had given Richard the addresses of the other researchers, he had no telephone numbers for them and thought this was more a job for the patient Moira. He called her into his room and explained the problem.