The Coffin Lane Murders Read Online Free Page A

horrific tableau that of the killer returned to the scene of his crime?
    Vince and Conan rose from their knees and he wondered if the same thought was in their minds as the woman's open eyes stared beyond them, beyond the confines of Coffin Lane towards the heights of Arthur's Seat.
    Even so, the gaze of the three men followed in the same direction and rested on the only habitation, Solomon's Tower, which would have been encompassed in that wild-eyed, horrified last look at the world.
    In ancient times this area had known many such grisly occurrences, thought Faro grimly: men slain in battles over the centuries, criminals hanged whose last earthly sight had been thus.
    The silence was broken by the clanging bell of the police carriage; swerving dangerously, it finally came to rest some fifty yards away. There were sounds of protesting wheels and horses, men's shrill curses and at last two policemen struggled through the snow carrying a stretcher.
    Young Dr Spens followed at their heels. 'Am I too late then?' His eagerness and barely concealed excitement as he stared down at the dead woman seemed all out of context with his young rosy face.
    Conan muttered, 'Obvious, isn't it?'
    'Been dead long, has she?' asked Angus cheerfully.
    'Some time,' said Conan.
    'Oh really?'
    'Yes. If you were hoping for a chance to practise survival methods you are several hours too late,' was Conan's sarcastic reply.
    Angus ignored him, pushing Vince aside. 'One moment please. May I?'
    Kneeling down he carefully scrutinised the body on the stretcher as if he saw a murder victim every day. He pursed his lips at the stab wound and nodded authoritatively while over his shoulder Vince and Conan shook their heads.
    As the policemen prepared to carry the corpse to the waiting mortuary carriage, Faro stretched forth his hand and carefully removed the woman's reticule, which was twisted round her wrist. 'I was about to do that myself, Inspector,' said Angus indignantly, a spoilt child deprived of a trophy. 'It may contain evidence, you know.'
    'Indeed? Her murderer's name and address, perhaps?'
    Angus coloured. 'No, her own, of course.'
    Faro nodded. 'All right, lads, you may proceed.'
    The small crowd let out a sigh as the body was bundled out of their sight as swiftly and in as dignified a manner as rigor would permit in the circumstances.
    'You may accompany them if you so wish, Dr Spens, said Faro, anxious to be rid of him.
    'May I really, Inspector?' Angus replied with almost indecent eagerness to visit the mortuary.
    Turning, he smiled sarcastically at Faro: 'Knowing your reputation, sir, no doubt you will have solved the case or at the very least produced a promising list of suspects by the time I get to the Central Office.'
    Faro merely nodded. He had reached a few conclusions about the woman's identity, merely from observation. The soaked, shabby, dark dress and thin cloak indicated a servant girl, most probably from this area. Death had not been kind; she could have been anywhere between eighteen and forty.
    The onlookers lingered and then dispersed unwillingly, trudging away back whence they had come, their drama over for the day. There was nothing more to see, but it gave them plenty to talk about for some time.
    Vince and Conan remained with PC Dean in attendance, carefully scraping the snow from where the corpse had lain, but apart from the blood-stained ground there was a complete absence of any clues as to why the unfortunate woman had been murdered.
    'Any sign of the murder weapon?' asked Vince.
    'It could be anywhere in the vicinity,' said Faro. 'But we'll have to wait until the snow clears to be absolutely sure.'
    They were aware that it could lie hidden for weeks before the thaw set in and indeed the heavy grey sky suggested there might be considerably more snow to fall, further hampering investigations.
    Vince frowned. 'A broad-bladed knife was used and with considerable force, I should think.'
    'Possibly a knife of the domestic kind.