Read Online Death at Gallows Green by Robin Paige - Free Book Online Page A

noonday glare to the inner darkness, and then pushed through the crowd until he found a place to stand not far from the coroner’s table. He caught sight of Edward Laken leaning against the opposite wall and waved a greeting, thinking that Edward looked pinched and pale and unhappy. Arthur Oliver had been his good friend.
    A moment later, a wisp of a man came through the rear door, perched on the stool like an eager bird, and shouted “Gentlemen, the Coroner!” Anybody who was sitting down stood up until Harry Hodson, who had nearly doubled in girth since Charles had last seen him twenty years before, took his seat with due ceremony in the chair of honour and nodded at the clerk to proceed.
    The room became suddenly silent and the wispy man began to recite in a rapid sing-song: “Oyez, oyez, ye good men of this district summoned to appear here this day to inquire for Her Sovereign Majesty the Queen when, how, and by what means Arthur Oliver, Sergeant of the Essex Constabulary, came to his death, answer to your names as you shall be called, every man at the first call, upon the pain and peril that shall fall thereon.”
    That done, the coroner read from his list the names of the jurors, each one answering with “Present, sir,” meekly or assertively, according to his temperament. Then followed the administering of the oath, in which the jurors promised to render a true verdict without fear or favour, affection or illwill, to the best of their skill and knowledge, so help them God. The oath taken, the coroner told the jurors that they were to consider three possibilities: homicide, suicide or misadventure, and if they were not satisfied that the evidence warranted any of these, they must return an open verdict. The coffin lid was then raised, and the jurors filed soberly past it and once again resumed their benches. The coffin was closed, and the inquest began.
    â€œLawrence Black,” the coroner called. Charles leaned against the wall as Lawrence, splendid in yellow-checked trousers and visibly impressed by his importance in these court proceedings, took the oath, kissed the Testament, and began, in response to the coroner’s questions, to relate his discovery of Artie Oliver’s body. Everything went as Charles might have expected until the coroner said, “I understand that you were not alone when you discovered the body, Mr. Black.”
    Lawrence’s handsome face, which to this point had been animated, went blank. “Sir?” he said.
    â€œI understand,” the coroner repeated patiently, “that you were accompanied through the hedge by a certain young woman. Is this true?”
    A titter ran from one side of the room to the other. Lawrence turned to Edward. “D’ I ’ave t’ answer?” he asked in a loud whisper.
    Edward stepped forward and leaned over the table. “If you don’t mind, Harry,” he said quietly, “it’d be best for the girl if she were left out of this. I’ve questioned her, and she can offer nothing new. Her testimony would simply corroborate Mr. Black’s.”
    â€œDisregard the question,” the coroner said, and a disappointed sigh followed the titter around the room. Lawrence Black was excused and stepped down, to be followed by the police surgeon, who reported that death had resulted from a bullet being fired from a revolver into the heart. “It was at close range,” he added. He had ascertained this fact from powder burns on the uniform jacket, entered now in evidence, along with the fatal bullet.
    Edward was called next. He filled in Lawrence’s rather vague description of the location of the body with a more careful account, and offered the speculation that Sergeant Oliver had been killed elsewhere and the body conveyed to the site by a vehicle along the adjacent lane and then through a gap in the hedge. From Edward, the jurors also learned that the victim was thirty-two years