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Authors: Robert V. Adams

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BOOK: Antman
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'Dr Detlev Brandt was a research fellow from the Centre for Entomological Studies at the Hull Wilberforce University, and until a year before his death, a special constable in the East Yorkshire constabulary. On November 17 last, he took the train from Hull to Beverley, and then a taxi to the Beverley Motel, a three-star hotel on the outskirts of this market town in East Yorkshire, about ten miles from Hull. He was due to attend a meeting with scientists from the Cawood agricultural research establishment the following morning. When he did not arrive at 9:00 hours, they telephoned the hotel, to find he had not yet appeared for breakfast. The hotel is one of those where the rooms are single-storey, detached from the main hotel block. Dr Brandt's room was the end one in the block and the adjacent room had been unoccupied the previous night. An investigation began: the hotel manager entered his room at 9:15 hours and found it empty. The bed, apparently, had not been slept in. Meanwhile, at about that time a body was discovered by Mr Alderson, farmer at Lowfield Farm, immediately adjacent to the hotel. This was subsequently confirmed as being that of Dr Brandt. Dr Edna Williams, consultant histopathologist, you carried out the post-mortem.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Please take us through your report.'

'Yes, sir. We normally begin the post-mortem by an external examination of the body and then carry out an internal examination.'

'If I may interrupt,' said Wilkes hastily as though realising he'd forgotten, 'I'll ask Dr Williams to summarise the report, omitting the unnecessary medical details for the sake of those members present.

'Of course,' said Dr Williams. 'In this case, the body lay on its back with the head facing upwards. A wound in the upper palate was visible in the open mouth. A shotgun lay between the legs. On measuring, the length of the shotgun from the trigger to the end of the barrel was found to be significantly shorter than the distance from the finger of the person to the mouth. This confirmed that it was physically possible for the person to have fired the fatal shot.'

'The second part of the necropsy consists of an internal examination, including all organs. The injuries confirmed the cause of death as from a shotgun wound to the head. There was massive damage to the skull and the brain, which would have led to instantaneous loss of consciousness and death within seconds through loss of blood. In carrying out further examination, it was evident that there was no significant disease or injury present which would have had a bearing on this death. Samples of blood and urine were retained for analysis. The blood showed an alcohol concentration of 185 milligrams per 100 millilitres and the urine showed 290. This greatly exceeds the legal maximum in the UK of 80 milligrams per 100 millilitres. It indicates a marked degree of intoxication which would be likely significantly to impair cognition, physical co-ordination and emotional responses.'

'Thank you, Doctor.'

'If the Court permits,' said Dr Williams, 'I should appreciate it if I could be excused, once I have dealt with any questions.'

'I understand. Does anyone have any questions?'

An expectant silence followed this question. But nobody spoke. The coroner nodded his assent and the consultant left the court.

The words special constable still echoed round Tom's head. He was staggered. There was no reason why he should have known, of course. He hadn't been a member of the interviewing panel when Detlev was appointed. But it was more than that. The information added to the intangible suspicion, already fed by occasional remarks from Laura. It lay out of focus and was un-addressed; so as time went by, it was increasingly threatening to his precise mind. He'd come to the coroner's court, hoping the process of the inquest would resolve his uncertainties. He particularly wanted to be dissuaded from the suspicion that there could be more to Detlev's former life, and so to his death, than a simple suicide – if suicide could ever be called simple.

 

*  *  *

 

'I'm sure you'll make the best of it, whether in Africa or at home,' said Laura, well aware of how adept Helen was at turning the conversation away from herself.

Laura thought Helen was avoiding eye contact under the guise of spooning the froth on her cappuccino.

'I'd rather not talk about it any more,' said Helen. 'How are you?' 

'Oh, business as usual I guess,' replied Laura with false jollity. 'The department and the Research Centre will go on having their crises of survival.'

'But that's not you. You're good at turning the conversation onto other topics rather than talking about yourself. You haven't told me how you are.'

'No, I haven't.' Laura bit her lip pensively.

'So?'

'Tom and I? We'll work it out, I suppose.'

Laura didn't want to talk about it. She saw Helen looking at her with a mixture of puzzlement and concern.

'I don't need sympathy,' she said sharply. 'We're doing what married people do after a few years of – whatever. It's okay. Anyway, if it's not, that's too bad. Plenty of other couples manage. We've been managing for years. We're experts at it by now.'

 

*  *  *

 

Coroner Wilkes had taken statements from relatives and other witnesses and was speaking again.

'Now we shall hear the statements from the police. You are Constable Tebbutt, Number 149?'

'Yes, sir.' Tebbutt looked nervously round the courtroom.

'Please read the court your statement.'

'Yes, sir. At approximately 9:10 hours on the Monday morning of 17 November 1997, I was on patrol in the village of Nesterton near Beverley, when I received instructions to proceed in response to a 999 call from Mr Alderson, a farmer from Lowfield Farm, Beverley Lane. On arrival, I found Mr Alderson, the farmer at Lowfield Farm, erecting some temporary fencing to prevent his cattle wandering into the immediate vicinity of the barn. Mr Alderson told me that he had heard a shot at about 8:45 and on going outside to search the farm outbuildings, had found the deceased lying in the barn. I walked with Mr Alderson to the barn fifty metres to the rear of Lowfield Farm. There I viewed the body of the deceased lying on a pile of hay beside a stack of hay bales. I directed Mr Alderson to wait while I confirmed that the deceased could not be resuscitated. I then contacted headquarters at 9:48 hours and arranged for them to call out the Scenes of Crime officer, ambulance and duty doctor. Meanwhile, I observed that a shotgun lay between the legs of the deceased, pointing upwards. The shotgun was the up and over type. I first made the weapon safe. Then I inspected the inside of the weapon and found a spent cartridge in the top barrel and that the bottom barrel contained an intact cartridge. The ambulance arrived at 10:15 and two paramedics checked the body and confirmed the death.'

'You knew and worked with the deceased in his capacity as Special Constable?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Did you have any reason to suspect Dr Brandt might take his own life?'

'None at all, sir.'

'Thank you, Constable Tebbutt. Has anyone any questions? You may step down. I shall now take the statement of Constable Birch, the Scenes of Crime officer.'

Constable Birch stepped up, took the oath, sat next to the coroner and read her statement:

'I was on duty at about 9:30 hours on the morning of 17th November, when I received a radio message from headquarters directing me to attend a reported incident at Lowfield Farm, Beverley. I approached a group of people standing on the driveway. Following their directions, I approached the body, which lay in the barn, adjacent to some stacked hay bales. I observed a large pool of blood under and around the head of the deceased. I could see a shotgun between the legs of the deceased. I took photographs. The negatives of these are held at Central Police Station, Beverley, East Yorkshire. Prints PS one to nineteen from these photographs labelled HDS1 can be viewed at Central Police Station, Beverley, East Yorkshire. I searched the barn in the immediate vicinity of the body. I was unable to locate the spent cartridge from the shotgun in the loose hay surrounding the body. I also searched the hotel room occupied by the deceased. I took away a note book which was lying on the bedside cabinet. This item was entered in police property at Beverley Central Police Station and is available for inspection there as police item DS 1.'

'Am I right, Constable, that the writing on this notepad has been confirmed as that of the deceased?’ Wilkes asked.

'Yes, sir. The handwriting has been identified by Professor Fortius, a colleague of the deceased in the Centre for Entomological Research at the Hull Wilberforce University, as that of Dr Brandt.'

'And am I right that there was not any definite message in the writing? It was just scribbled notes.'

'Yes, sir. The content was not specific and was not of any interest or relevance to the death.'

'Thank you,' said Wilkes. 'Has anyone any questions to ask the witness? No? That completes all the evidence. Is there any further statement that anyone wishes to make? It is my responsibility, therefore, to summarise these proceedings and finally to give a verdict.'

 

*  *  *

 

'I'm sorry, Helen. I didn't mean to loose off at you.'

'Forget it.' Helen waved her hand. 'I'm an insensitive clod-hopper. I should have kept my nose out and my mouth shut.'

'Don't say that. I appreciate you like mad.'

'Mummy, Mummy, come and look at the insects in the window,' called Sarah.

'Wait, darling. Mummy's finishing her coffee.'

'Perhaps it would help if you had some space away from the kids,' observed Helen.

'Please, Mummy.'

Laura nodded. 'It might, but it's not a very practicable idea.'

'Too much going on.'

'Like life, for instance.'

Matthew now joined the chorus, with the one-liner he had found to be most effective in shops and at market stalls alike, whenever he was taken shopping:

'I really need it. Please, Mummy.'

Laura shook her head: 'I can't even think about it any more at the moment, Helen.' She couldn't cope with making serious decisions when she was out like this with the kids.

'I'm coming, Matthew. But I haven't the money for any more presents.'

At the centre of the display in the corner of the charity shop window was an old plastic container accompanied by a faded poster proclaiming "Ant Farm. Kids: Keep your own colony of ants and watch them lay eggs, feed their young and milk their ant cows."

'Listen, you two, I've no money to buy any toys today.'

The chorus from the children died away. Laura stood up, went over to the shop window and peered in. It was full of second-hand junk.

'I don't believe it. I bring my kids to town and the only things they show any interest in buying are the most common items of equipment in Tom's labs at the Uni. They also have an instinct for the most awkward items in every shop.'

Laura sat down again.

'At least yours have other interests. All my nephews want to do is surf the net and play on computer games …' said Helen. Her voice tailed off and she stared at the cup.

'Are you thinking about the inquest?' asked Laura. It was an inspired guess.

Helen nodded, lips pursed and eyes filling up.

'It was a bad accident,' said Laura. 'But he wouldn't have suffered. He'd have died instantaneously.'

Helen shook her head: 'Don't even try to soften it. I've seen the photographs. I happened to be there when Tom shared them with Robin.'

She sat staring at the table. Laura fidgeted, not knowing how best to help.

'He didn't do it. He would never have killed himself.' The words burst from Helen. She pressed her hands flat against her face, as though to shut herself off from the reality. She took a deep breath before removing her hands, composing herself.

'I'm so sorry, love,' said Laura, putting her hand on Helen's shoulder. They leaned together and hugged.

 

*  *  *

 

Coroner Wilkes was speaking again.

'Finally, I come to the verdict. In considering the possibility that the deceased took his own life, I have to bear in mind that whilst most verdicts are given on the basis of the balance of probabilities, this doesn't apply to the taking of one's own life. For this verdict to be given, the level of evidence used to prove it has to be far higher than for other verdicts. That is, it has to be clear beyond all reasonable doubt that all other possible explanations have been ruled out.

BOOK: Antman
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