‘We already have a list of six witnesses who have indicated they wish to speak — but anyone may do so, even at this stage. In fact, especially at this stage,’ said Dr Shute. He flicked open the single file he had before him. ‘First of all, I am able to confirm that a DNA analysis to be undertaken by the Forensic Science Service is expected to provide conclusive evidence of the identity of the victim. However, I am able to accept a preliminary identification based on a facial reconstruction of the remains together with forensic evidence from the scene and corroborating dental records. The deceased was an American citizen and the US Embassy has been notified of these proceedings. I can also report that a postmortem examination was completed here in Lynn and that the cause of death is understood to have been a single traumatic blow to the back of the skull with a pointed weapon — probably the billhook that was found with the remains. I have examined the medical notes in this case and discussed it with the pathologist — Dr Justina Kazimierz.’ He surveyed the ‘court’. ‘I am entirely confident this finding is the correct one. Given that the deceased had been dead for many years there is no likelihood of any forensic evidence being recovered from tissue. But the bones tell us enough.’
He readied a fountain pen over a blank notepad. ‘Anyone giving testimony will be speaking under oath and may subsequently be required to make a formal statement to the police. Mr Glover?’
Glover then gave an outline of the bare facts of the case: Garrison’s family background, the death of his aunt Nora Tilden, his journey to the UK, her burial, his disappearance. He then described the uncovering of the bones. He sat while he read in a dull monotone, but the room remained silent, watchful. Shaw indulged in a childhood fantasy — the idea that he could read people’s thoughts in bubbles which hung over their heads. He wondered what he would have read now. It was particularly difficult in Lizzie Murray’s case because she gave so few hints of an interior life behind her brittle exterior.
‘Before we get to the events of 1982,’ said Shute when Glover had finished, ‘I’d like to ask briefly whether anyone has information regarding an attempt, in June this year the police believe, to reopen the grave in which the remains of this young man were discovered. This was on the night of the eighteenth. We have already a statement from a resident of Gladstone Street who says she saw lights in the cemetery that evening and called the police. They attended but found the cemetery empty.’
Four of the six witnesses who had already contacted the coroner’s office then gave evidence. They all reported that the cemetery was used by young people, late at night, for the purchase of drugs. One witness was a council workman from South Lynn who said that syringes and other detritus were often found, especially in the area down by the riverside, close to two breaks in the iron fencing and the part of the cemetery most distant from local housing. While that corner of the graveyard was also closest to the riverside path, all the witnesses pointed out that the walkway was rarely used after dark, and that the council lighting was often vandalized. Shaw noted the timings of the witness accounts of sightings in the cemetery — all before midnight — whereas the woman who had seen lights from her window that night in June had reported them to the police at 3.15 a.m.
Shute moved on to the night of Nora Tilden’s wake. He said that anyone who had already given evidence to the police did not need to repeat it here. They had two further witnesses listed: the first, a woman who lived less than fifty yards from the pub, said that noise from the wake had continued until well into the small hours. She said it was a regular problem, and had been since she’d moved to the area in 1975. She said she had reported the nuisance to both the police and the local council and they had failed to take action. Dr Shute thanked her for her time.
The second witness was a man who said he had seen Pat Garrison on the night of the wake walking away from the Flask towards the cemetery. The man, now in his sixties, was a night-shift worker at the old jam-processing factory in West Lynn and always went to the pub in the evening during his break — which was supposed to be between 10.30 p.m. and 11.30 p.m. but which he always ‘stretched’ by a quarter of an hour each side. The man said he knew Pat Garrison, though only by sight. The only things he noticed, or could remember, were that the time was 10.15 or just before, because he usually heard All Saints chime the quarter-past before he went into the pub, and that Garrison was carrying two glasses in one hand, the rims held together between thumb and forefinger.
Shaw nodded to DC Birley to intercept the witness as he left the stand and fix an interview at St James’s.
Dr Shute then asked for new witnesses to come forward. Seven merely added detail to the picture Shaw and his team had so far constructed of the evening of the wake. Three had been at the graveside for the funeral and recalled Pat Garrison standing with the family. Prompted, they also confirmed the presence of the two black men from the Free, Jesse and Emmanuel Rogers, standing with a group of the Elect, including the pastor. Shaw caught the young reporter’s eye and she pulled a face, then gave in to the urge to yawn.
The eighth and last witness to come forward was a woman in her mid-fifties, Shaw judged, wearing cleaner’s overalls. She gave her name as Jayne Flowers of West Lynn, her age as fifty-nine and her occupation as hospital cleaner. She said that at the time of Patrice Garrison’s disappearance she had a part-time job as a caretaker at a block of private flats in Snettisham Road. Mrs Bea Garrison, the victim’s mother, paid a weekly rent, she recalled, of?25 for a bedsit in the block for her son — the deceased.
‘What can you tell us?’ asked Shute, leaning back, and Shaw noted — not for the first time — the coroner’s skill at setting an informal tone in the court.
‘I went to the funeral because I knew Nora, and I wanted to pay my respects.’ Shaw realized that giving evidence for this woman was an ordeal, because her voice buzzed, vibrating with a stress she didn’t show in her face. ‘But I couldn’t go back to the wake. I had to work that afternoon, at the hospital, then get back to the flats to cook tea. We had the bottom flat, you see — that was part of the deal. And when I’d done — the tea, I mean — I had to start cleaning. All the stairs, and do the rubbish.’
She looked at her hands. ‘I heard Pat come home — but late, about one o’clock.’
Shute stopped her there, trying to make sure of the time. Did she wait up for tenants to come home? No, never. But she was a light sleeper and she heard the door open, and Pat’s flat was above theirs. So she heard his door open and close. And because she was a light sleeper she always had a clock — right there — that she could see without moving her head. And she knew for certain that it was one o’clock.
But how did she know it was Garrison? Shute asked.
‘Well I didn’t, not then. But I was sure, because I heard him typing. It’s showing my age, isn’t it? These days it’d be a computer and you wouldn’t hear it, but back then everyone used a typewriter. It was portable, but you still needed a sledge hammer to hit the keys. We often heard him typing — he was at the college, doing journalism, and he did bits for the paper even then. Sport and stuff. But this — he’d never done this, not at that time. I couldn’t sleep. I just lay there. Then — after about an hour, he stopped. I knew something was up because I heard his door open again. I thought he was off out so I got up to get my dressing gown because I was going to have words. ’Cos it wasn’t right.’
Out of the corner of his eye Shaw saw Lizzie sidling across the room to the far wall, to stand beside one of the red velvet curtains. Her hand played with the gold buttons on her black formal jacket, then touched the single diamond pin in her ear lobe.