The Studied Financier (8)

 “What does Marshaggins make of the body in the tub, by the way?”

“He talked with the doctor, who said the body died from a blow on the back of the neck, and it’s been dead a day or two. He says it’s the body of a well-to-do man of about fifty.”

“The manicured nails were a dead giveaway on that one,” I interjected.

“He says it’s ridiculous to suppose the body came in through the passage between the rooms without anybody knowing anything about it because it would have had to have gotten into the other room first. His logic is that since the renowned university professor, Juliangan Pakefre was in the adjoining room, he believes the professor would know if a dead body was walking through it—his words, not mine. Oh, and the detective said when he called Juliangan, he was very kind. Even though he was at work in the dissecting room. He checked his com-tab to see that all the bodies were accounted for, and then very obligingly came back here to look at this one”

“What did he make of it?”

“Juliangan said he was afraid he couldn’t help us: There was no corpse missing from the hospital, and this one didn’t answer to the description of any they’d had.

“The detective’s best theory is that the whoever the body is walked in through the front door while the family was unpacking, and one of them hit him in surprise and he died. This, of course, doesn’t account for several facts, like what happened to the man’s clothing or how could they do that when they had just arrived and the body had been dead a couple days, but Marshaggins insists he must start somewhere—so that’s the premise he is investigating right now.”

“Well, I’m glad the Cullchipps have so much of an alibi,” I said. “I suppose if we only glue our faith in them to liver mortis, rigor mortis, and all the other mortises that are the essence in estimating times of death, we would have to be prepared to have some skeptical beast of a prosecuting counsel mess up all the medical evidence. 

“Remember Timpey Biggsation defending that tea shop affair? They had six medical experts all contradicting themselves on the stand, and Timpey had dug up several abnormal cases and started reading them to further confuse the jury.  ‘Are you prepared to swear, Dr. Whatever-his-name-was, that the onset of rigor mortis indicates the hour of death without the possibility of error?’ ‘In the majority of cases,’ the doctor replied. ‘Ah!’ says Biggsation, ‘but this is a modern Court of Justice, Doctor, not some old-fashioned Earth election. We can’t move forward without a report on those minority cases. The law, Doctor, respects the rights of the minority, alive or dead.’ 

“Of course, since it was murder, it was a public trial and there was some suppressed giggling in the jury box and among the attendees. ‘Gentlemen, this is no laughing matter,’ Timpey started in again. ‘My client—an upright and honorable gentleman—is being tried for his life—for his life, gentlemen—and it is the business of the prosecution to show his guilt—if they can—without a shadow of doubt.’ You have to love how all those lawyers—even the ones provided by the state—twist reasonable doubt into any doubt—even the illogical ones. Of course, Timpey went on and made a show of pressuring the doctor into solemnly swearing, without the least shadow of doubt, that the poor woman met her death no sooner or later than the estimated time.”

“Timpey’s man was guilty all the same,” my father said decidedly.

“Of course he was. But he was acquitted all the same, and I am sure Timpey would love to sue you for libel if he hears your opinion on the matter. Hmm…” I checked my com-tab to find out a bit more about the states of death. 

“’Rigor mortis,’” I read aloud from a medical jurisprudence source, “‘can only be stated in a very general way—many factors determine the result. On the average, however, stiffening will have begun—neck and jaw—5 to 6 hours after death.’ Hmmm… ‘In all likelihood it will have passed off in most cases by the end of 36 hours. Under certain circumstances, however, it may appear unusually early or be retarded unusually long!’ Well, that’s helpful, don’t you think, Pops?” I continued scanning the article.

“Listen to this: ‘Modifying factors: age, muscular state, diseases, or when the temperature of environment is high or low’. Wow. I wonder if the detective believes the doctor got it wrong.” I put my com-tab to sleep. “What did you make of the body?”

“Well,” my father began, “not very much. I was puzzled, frankly. Based on what I saw, I think he had been a rich man but that his good fortune had come to him fairly recently.”

“Ah, you noticed the calluses on the hands. I thought you wouldn’t miss that.”

“Both his feet were also badly blistered. Apparently, he has been wearing tight shoes.”

“And walking a long way in them, too,” I agreed. “Didn’t that strike you as odd for a person evidently well off?”

“Well, I don’t know. The blisters were older looking. He might have missed his ride recently and had to walk home.”

“Possibly.”

“There were some little red marks all over his face and over his neck that I couldn’t quite account for.”

“I saw them,” I said.

“What did you think they were?”

“I’ll tell you afterwards. Go on.”

“He was very far-sighted—the glasses were like a very old man’s glasses, but he was a younger man. By the way, the chain they were on was unique and expensive. It struck me he might be traced through it.”

“I’ll send out some notes to local jewelers about it,” I said, turning on my com-tab again. “Go on.” 

“He had had the glasses some time. They had been mended twice. He was probably a sullen, ill-tempered man because his nails were filed down to the quick as though he habitually bit them. In fact, his fingers looked bitten as well. He smoked quantities of cigarettes without a holder. He was particular about his personal appearance.”

“Did you examine the room at all? I didn’t get a chance.”

“Like you, I found the utility passage locked. The detective and his crew seem to have tramped all over the place, to say nothing of the Cullchipps. The only thing I noticed was a very indefinite patch of water near the head of the bath as though something damp might have stood there. You could hardly call it a footprint. Did you notice that the soot on the vanity?”

“I did,” I said, pleased that we had both seen almost all the same clues. “I examined it but I couldn’t make anything of it except that something or other had rested there.” 

“Marshaggins and I explored the adjoining cabin,” my father continued, “but there wasn’t a trace of anything.”

“That’s interesting. Usually guests leave a few traces of a lot of things when they finish their vacation.”

“Maybe you and I can go over it tomorrow,” he suggested. 

“Anything more that you found?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not. Did you see something else I missed?”