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beside the doctor’s desk and faced the doctor who sat at the desk. It was clearly the patient’s chair in Dr March’s surgery and was, thought Webster, a preferable arrangement to that chosen by his own doctor who kept a large desk, barrier-like, between himself and his patient.
    ‘It is, isn’t it?’ Dr March, Webster found, was a doctor with a warm and cheery manner. His surgery looked out on to a brick wall, probably within reaching distance, and yet enjoyed a plentiful supply of natural light. It could not be overlooked from the outside and as such, was the only surgery that Webster had been in which did not have net curtains or some other means of preventing anyone outside from looking in on a consultation. ‘Unsettling also. So what can I tell you about Mr Housecarl?’
    ‘We need to establish the pattern of his life for some years prior to his death and also need to find his ex-employees.’
    ‘May I ask why?’
    ‘Yes, I can tell you, there is going to be a press release issued later today because we will need public assistance. There has been a discovery on his land; in the kitchen garden of Bromyards . . . though Mr Housecarl is not under suspicion.’
    ‘A discovery? A dead body?’ March asked with a slight smile.
    ‘Yes, in fact. You sound like you know something, sir?’
    ‘No, I can’t help you . . . it was just a logical deduction that it would take that sort of discovery to prompt a police officer to press me for my time in a very busy day and accept being squeezed in between morning surgery and “rounds”. So is that what it is . . . a dead body?’
    ‘Yes, five in fact.’
    ‘Five!’
    ‘And we are still searching the garden, it’s badly overgrown and so there may be more corpses to be found. It’s a big case . . .’
    ‘Oh my,’ March sat forward and held his head in his hands, ‘I am astounded. Years, you say?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘But Mr Housecarl only died recently. You mean that all the while myself and the nurse . . . and the Meals on Wheels folk . . . all the while that we were visiting there were bodies in the kitchen garden . . . the enclosed garden beside the house?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’ Webster paused. ‘The last body was probably deposited there only a few months ago. The Home Office Pathologist won’t be drawn on the time of death.’
    ‘I bet he won’t.’
    ‘She, actually, sir.’
    ‘She then. I tell you, the luxury of time of death being able to be determined is for TV programmes. It’s very hard to determine the time of death in actuality. You know, from the time that the person was last seen alive to the time the body was found is a near as science can get to determining the actual time of death.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘And corpses don’t always cool either. In the tropics a body will heat up after death and will then begin to cool. That can throw a real spanner in the works.’
    ‘Yes, sir . . . as you say. But the other victims were practically all skeletons . . . though some final victims still showed traces of internal organs.’
    ‘I see . . . yes, I see your need to establish Mr Housecarl’s life pattern.’
    ‘We understand that in his final months he lived in just one room?’
    ‘Yes,’ Dr March pursed his lips and nodded briefly, ‘yes, that was the case, and for years, not months. The last three or four years of his life he spent living in that little room, leaving only to use the bathroom opposite it. He kept himself alive by eating out of tins and on the meals the visiting catering service brought for him a few times each week.’
    ‘He wouldn’t move to a smaller house?’
    ‘Wouldn’t consider it, that was totally out of the question for him. He was fully compos mentis  . . . remember he had a “visit” from his brother Tommy . . .’
    ‘Yes,’ Webster tapped his pen on his notepad, ‘as we agreed, very interesting.’
    ‘But the point is . . . is that he was compos mentis  . . .