Page 7 of The Murder of Thomas Cardwell
Findlay looked up, amusement glinting in his eyes. “I think you meanbecauseof the circumstances.” He rose and nodded to Barnaby, Penelope, and Jordan. “And I’m here because I was the closest, and the examination was deemed urgent.” Curiosity welling, he asked, “Who are your friends?”
Stokes introduced Penelope, Barnaby, and Jordan. “Findlay’s the medical examiner for the River Police.”
“Ah,” Penelope said. “The Sedbury case.”
“Indeed.” Findlay acknowledged them with a half bow, but didn’t offer to shake anyone’s hand. To Jordan, he said, “I met your friend, Gelman. Good thinking, leaving someone on guard. Even in this neighborhood, there’s no telling what might have been nicked or rifled if you hadn’t.” Findlay looked down at the body. “I haven’t moved him yet—I thought you’d want to see this one in situ.”
They all stared at Cardwell.
“The face,” Stokes said.
“Yes. His expression is telling, I think.” Findlay looked at Jordan. “According to Gelman, the expression was even more pronounced when you first saw him.”
Studying the corpse, Jordan nodded. “Yes. It was even clearer that he’d been taken by surprise.”
“Utter surprise, by the looks of it,” Barnaby said.
“So he didn’t expect to be murdered,” Penelope concluded, “and consequently, he wasn’t on guard.” She glanced around. “That’s why there’s no sign of a struggle.”
“Indeed,” Findlay said approvingly. “There’s not a hint of a struggle anywhere here. And then there’s the physical evidence—the layout, so to speak.” Findlay stepped back and studied the scene. “I believe the attack came from over the desk.”
He looked at Jordan. “When you were here earlier, did you see anyone move that chair?” With his head, Findlay indicated the chair facing the desk.
“No.” Jordan considered the chair, which sat a little back from the desk. “It looks like someone was sitting there and suddenly stood up.”
“Exactly.” Findlay pointed at the letter knife. “Gelman told me the sister said that the knife was lying on the desk.”
“She did.” Jordan pointed at where Ruth Cardwell had said the letter knife had lain. “Just there.”
Findlay nodded. “So what I think happened was that Cardwell was discussing something with someone he saw as no threat at all. And without any warning whatsoever, that someone stood, grabbed the letter knife, lunged across the desk, and stabbed Cardwell in the chest. Subsequently, Cardwell fell out of his chair, pushing it to where it currently stands.”
They studied the position of the chairs and the angle of the knife.
“That’s why,” Barnaby mused, “the knife went in at a slight downward angle. The attacker was essentially standing, albeit leaning over the desk, while Cardwell was still seated.”
“Yes, and sadly for Cardwell,” Findlay said, “that’s what made the attack so lethal. The knife went through the heart at a downward angle. No hope of surviving that, even for a short time.”
“Could the killer have been a woman?” Penelope asked.
Findlay considered that, then shook his head. “Highly unlikely, I would think. The blow was delivered with considerable force. It had to be—letter knives are not generally the sharpest of implements.”
Busy making notes, Stokes grunted. “What’s your official time of death?”
Findlay grinned. “For once, I can be remarkably definitive.” He nodded at Jordan. “Thanks to Mr. Draper here, we can say Cardwell was killed before eight-thirty. And as we were summoned so soon after death, by the temperature of the body, I would say he was killed no earlier than seven-forty-five.”
“Forty-five minutes?” Stokes looked incredulous. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a short window for a murder.”
Findlay nodded, transparently pleased. “It’s quite a landmark in my experience as well.”
Stokes looked energized. “I’m going to set my men to canvass the area. With any luck, someone will have seen something useful.”
Jordan moved to accompany Stokes. “If you’re agreeable, Gelman can assist.” With a smile, he added, “He’s with me to gain experience, or so I’ve been told.”
Stokes grinned. “Always pleased to have extra men.”
Findlay called after them, “I’ll be finished here shortly. Is it all right to transfer the body to the morgue?”
Halfway to the door, Stokes halted and looked at Barnaby and Penelope. “Anything else we need from the body?”
