The Forgotten Murders by John Wainwright

Author:John Wainwright [Wainwright, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

39

The forensic science laboratory liaison officer hummed and hawed a little. His was an invidious position. He was a police inspector but the rank carried only the pay; he had little authority and even less responsibility; he was neither uniformed nor CID. He was the official conduit between the police and the scientists, was neither one nor the other and took orders from both.

At first it had seemed one of the proverbial “cushy numbers”. Office hours, a neat little office near the entrance of the laboratory building, the easy companionship of men and women learned in the various sciences harnessed to the detection of crime and a certain standing within the community of his fellow-officers.

His main duties demanded that he know the various forms which require to be completed before specimens and exhibits were allowed to be examined. To know which department of the laboratory each specimen or exhibit should be forwarded to. To give some approximation of the time required for a scientific examination. To officially notify the result of that examination to the appropriate officer.

He was a man of rote. He would argue (and often did argue) that, in a building staffed by experts who tended towards the eccentric or the absent-mindedness of the specialist, his was the firm hand of order. He it was who ensured that order did not give way to chaos.

Unfortunately he was no decision-maker. If “B” did not follow “A” and immediately precede “C” the forensic science laboratory liaison officer was well out of his depth.

He said, “Well, I don’t know about that,” and the man who had just presented his credentials knew he was bluffing.

“You know now,” smiled the man.

“Yes, but…”

“Get your boffins away from the scene.”

“I—er—I don’t know whether I have the authority.”

“I’ve just given you the authority.” The man continued to smile, but the smile became slightly fixed and without friendship.

The liaison officer said, “I’d have thought the Civil Aviation people.”

“No. The Home Office.”

“It’s just that…”

“You have the authority.” The man tapped the letter he’d handed to the liaison officer. “That’s all you need. Any arguments, ring London and they’ll verify. Meanwhile, get your forensic people away from the crash and my men will take over.”

“The director…” began the liaison officer.

“Like you.” There was no mistaking the warning. “The director of the laboratory will do what he’s told—or stand the consequences.”

“I’ll—I’ll tell him.”

“Instruct him,” corrected the man.

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