Read Online Death In Captivity by Michael Gilbert - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Gilbert
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F.R.C.S.?’
‘It’s not exactly a degree,’ said Doctor Simmonds cautiously. ‘Anyway, I expect it’s in my record somewhere. What’s it all about?’
They were in the Camp Commandant’s Office. Besides Benucci, the Chief Interpreter and Doctor Simmonds there was a fourth party present. A thin civilian in black coat and striped trousers, with that neat beard which appears to be the hallmark of professional eminence in Latin countries.
‘I must introduce Professor Di Buonavilla of the medical faculty of the University of Florence.’
The professor rose to his feet and bowed. Doctor Simmonds half got up, made an indeterminate noise, and sat down again.
‘It is because we wish to proceed correctly in this,’ said Captain Benucci smoothly, ‘that I have afforded you – Doctor Simmonds – this opportunity of examining the body of Lieutenant Coutoules. Also, because I understood that you were the best qualified in the Camp to make this examination.’
‘Very good of you,’ said Doctor Simmonds. He was not quite sure what a professor in the faculty of medicine did. ‘If this gentleman is a practising doctor, I have no doubt that his conclusions will be the same as my own.’
‘No doubt,’ said Benucci. ‘That is exactly what we wish to establish. I should perhaps have explained that the professor is consultant to the Police Force at Firenze. It is for his experience in this type of work that we have asked him to assist us. He does not speak English himself but I will ask Lieutenant Mordaci to read you a translation of the statement he has prepared. If there are any questions you wish to ask, pray use the services of the interpreter.’
Mordaci read from the statement in front of him. It was a long statement. It started with a description of the body of Coutoules as the professor had seen it at two o’clock on the afternoon of its discovery. It contained some sound observations on rigor mortis, postmortem bruising and the tendency of blood to drain outwards from the centre of the corpse after death. Doctor Simmonds, who had the essential disinterested honesty of the expert, found it hard to disagree with any of its conclusions. These were: that Coutoules had died some time one side or the other of midnight, but not earlier than nine o’clock on the previous evening; that death had been due to asphyxiation; and that the body had been moved and handled after death.
‘Have you any comments to make, Doctor?’ asked Benucci, when the statement had finished.
For form’s sake, Doctor Simmonds asked a few questions and Mordaci translated them, and retranslated the professor’s answers. He asked the professor if he had noticed a bruise on the back of Coutoules’ neck. The professor had noticed it. He suggested it might have been made by a stone in the fall of sand. Doctor Simmonds agreed that it might. It was quite clear to him that the professor knew his job – as he would be likely to do if he was, in fact, the police consultant.
‘Well, Doctor,’ said Benucci again, at the end of it, ‘what are your conclusions?’
‘I’m not sure that I follow you.’
‘It seems plain to you that Coutoules was moved after death?’
‘That’s a matter of argument and inference. Not a matter of fact.’
‘If we accept it,’ said Benucci, ‘is it not logical to surmise that Coutoules was smothered first, and placed in the tunnel afterwards, in order to conceal the truth about his murder – and his murderers?’
‘You mean that you think he was killed in one of the huts and put in the tunnel afterwards?’
‘It is not a question of thinking,’ said Benucci, in an ill-natured parody of the doctor’s professional manner. ‘It is a question of evidence.’
‘But that’s absurd,’ said Doctor Simmonds. ‘Did you look at his hands?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘He must have died under the sand. Why, he’d pulled half his nails off trying to claw his way out.’
The last few exchanges had been in
‘It’s not exactly a degree,’ said Doctor Simmonds cautiously. ‘Anyway, I expect it’s in my record somewhere. What’s it all about?’
They were in the Camp Commandant’s Office. Besides Benucci, the Chief Interpreter and Doctor Simmonds there was a fourth party present. A thin civilian in black coat and striped trousers, with that neat beard which appears to be the hallmark of professional eminence in Latin countries.
‘I must introduce Professor Di Buonavilla of the medical faculty of the University of Florence.’
The professor rose to his feet and bowed. Doctor Simmonds half got up, made an indeterminate noise, and sat down again.
‘It is because we wish to proceed correctly in this,’ said Captain Benucci smoothly, ‘that I have afforded you – Doctor Simmonds – this opportunity of examining the body of Lieutenant Coutoules. Also, because I understood that you were the best qualified in the Camp to make this examination.’
‘Very good of you,’ said Doctor Simmonds. He was not quite sure what a professor in the faculty of medicine did. ‘If this gentleman is a practising doctor, I have no doubt that his conclusions will be the same as my own.’
‘No doubt,’ said Benucci. ‘That is exactly what we wish to establish. I should perhaps have explained that the professor is consultant to the Police Force at Firenze. It is for his experience in this type of work that we have asked him to assist us. He does not speak English himself but I will ask Lieutenant Mordaci to read you a translation of the statement he has prepared. If there are any questions you wish to ask, pray use the services of the interpreter.’
Mordaci read from the statement in front of him. It was a long statement. It started with a description of the body of Coutoules as the professor had seen it at two o’clock on the afternoon of its discovery. It contained some sound observations on rigor mortis, postmortem bruising and the tendency of blood to drain outwards from the centre of the corpse after death. Doctor Simmonds, who had the essential disinterested honesty of the expert, found it hard to disagree with any of its conclusions. These were: that Coutoules had died some time one side or the other of midnight, but not earlier than nine o’clock on the previous evening; that death had been due to asphyxiation; and that the body had been moved and handled after death.
‘Have you any comments to make, Doctor?’ asked Benucci, when the statement had finished.
For form’s sake, Doctor Simmonds asked a few questions and Mordaci translated them, and retranslated the professor’s answers. He asked the professor if he had noticed a bruise on the back of Coutoules’ neck. The professor had noticed it. He suggested it might have been made by a stone in the fall of sand. Doctor Simmonds agreed that it might. It was quite clear to him that the professor knew his job – as he would be likely to do if he was, in fact, the police consultant.
‘Well, Doctor,’ said Benucci again, at the end of it, ‘what are your conclusions?’
‘I’m not sure that I follow you.’
‘It seems plain to you that Coutoules was moved after death?’
‘That’s a matter of argument and inference. Not a matter of fact.’
‘If we accept it,’ said Benucci, ‘is it not logical to surmise that Coutoules was smothered first, and placed in the tunnel afterwards, in order to conceal the truth about his murder – and his murderers?’
‘You mean that you think he was killed in one of the huts and put in the tunnel afterwards?’
‘It is not a question of thinking,’ said Benucci, in an ill-natured parody of the doctor’s professional manner. ‘It is a question of evidence.’
‘But that’s absurd,’ said Doctor Simmonds. ‘Did you look at his hands?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘He must have died under the sand. Why, he’d pulled half his nails off trying to claw his way out.’
The last few exchanges had been in
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