The Pale Rider

Part: 3
Rating: T
Summary: What do you do when a body washes up on the beach?
Beta: Captn Becky
Notes: Canon up to May 1942. Anything else are lovely imaginations from the author's warped mind.
Disclaimer: All known characters are the creation of Anthony Horowitz and Dorothy Sayers. I make no money off this.

Scene three

Because of the picture Foyle brought back from Bexhill, the coroner decided on waiting until it was known whether or not the victim was actually Margaret Woollenhouse. The woman's cause of death would be revealed at the inquest, though Christopher had a pretty good idea how she died. He looked through his office door and down the hall that led to the common area in the station. Sam was seated on one of the benches with a book in hand. He jumped when the telephone rang.

"Foyle," he answered. "Yes...oh? I see. Have you notified the coroner yet? Good...Thank you." He placed the receiver back on the hook, disconnecting the call. Sam would be pleased. He let a smile cross his face before turning back to the never ending paperwork. The official inquest would most likely be the next day.

Changing his mind he picked up the telephone again and called over to Bexhill. This time he was able to speak to the senior detective personally. Christopher felt that it was common courtesy to let them know they were instrumental in identifying the body. He also asked if they could hold off on searching through Miss Woollenhouse's home until he was able to come back. The detective agreed, which relieved him to no end. Now he would have the time to dig into the victim's past and hopefully find the reason why she was murdered, since he wasn't all that interested in attending the inquest now.

Foyle leaned over and looked through the door once again and down the corridor. Sam hadn't moved at all. Whatever the book was, she was completely engrossed in it. He watched as Milner came out of his office and stopped in front of her. They spoke for a few minutes then she rose to her feet, while glancing into his office. They're eyes met then she broke and went over to retrieve a key for one of the police cars. She was officially his driver, but because of Paul's leg, Christopher allowed her to drive the sergeant to his destinations if she had the time.

Rising from his seat, he left his office and went towards the small kitchen for some tea. With cup in hand, he left the room and glanced over to the bench again, this time noticing that she left her book on the seat. Stepping over, he looked down at it, wondering if he knew the author or the title. The Fountain Pen Mystery. He had never heard of that one before. Shrugging he went back to the never ending petty crime reports.

If Sam returned at a decent hour, she'd drive him home. If not, he would walk. The station wasn't that far from his home. He tapped the end of the pencil on the paper before him, trying to think what his next moves would be. He supposed he could attend the inquest, that way he would find out the official cause of death, although it seemed fairly obvious to him.

Yet, the next morning he found himself standing just outside the Hastings Court. He pressed his lips together as he looked around the corridor. The only other people who were there were the fishermen from several days ago along with several other men who seemed extremely important. They weren't from Hastings, that was sure or he would have recognized them. He had been a policeman here so long that he pretty much knew or knew the names of all the residents. Sometimes it made for interesting conversations, especially when Sam first arrived.

The door into the court room opened, and everyone gathered followed the bailiff into the room just beyond. Since Hastings wasn't all that large, His Majesty's Court mirrored the size of the town. The city wasn't even important enough to have their own Coroner's Court, so they had to use the regular court when it wasn't in session. There were maybe twenty-five seats available, including the jury box. Christopher found a seat near the back of the room, and Sam quickly followed suit, same book in hand from the day before. The moment they sat down, she opened it up and picked up where she left off. "Sam," he kept his voice low while shifting in his seat.

"Yes?" her voice distracted as she turned another page.

He frowned. "Why did you bring that? The coroner might ask you questions on finding the handbag."

"But I'm bored," it came out sounding similar to a whine, "and I want to know what happens next."

He gave her a long look then shook his head in resignation.

A man came through the side door. "All rise."

Foyle stood at the command. For a moment Sam seemed like she hadn't heard the call, but quickly put the book down and scrambled to her feet. From his view he thought she cringed in guilt before letting it disappear. They stood not because of the next man who came through the same door, but for the King. The newcomer, who was the coroner, wore neither robe nor wig.

"Pray be seated," the man stated just as he sat down. As soon as everyone was seated he continued, "We are gathered here to answer four questions. I will call each man or woman, if any, involved to see if I can deduce the answers to how and where the victim died. This is not a court where I will be judging whether there is guilt or innocence, that is not my intention. We are all on the same side."

The corner, who it turned out to be, looked down at his notes and seemed to scan through the writing. "Will Dr. Archer approach the bench?"

Everyone turned to look at the older man who stood to his feet and came forward. He took the oath and sat down in the witness box.

"You are a pathologist, Dr. Archer?"

"Yes, sir."

"Through your examination, have you come to any conclusion on how the victim was killed?"

Archer cleared his throat. "I believe it was murder, and this is why. While she had major had contusions and penetrating lacerations on her back and around to her front, those were not lethal. She had prominent ecchymoses in the skin of the neck with the bruising extending into the muscles of her neck. While the globes in her eyes were missing there were still petechiae on her eyelids and conjunctiva covering the inner lid. Further there was a fracture of the hyloid bone. She shows no evidence of breathing at the time she was placed into the water. All my findings point to strangulation as the cause of death."

At these words, the quiet of the court was broken by the rising murmurs of voices, which one clap of the gavel immediately silenced.

"Order." Once decorum was reestablished the coroner continued, "Now what about the identity of the victim?"

Dr. Archer glanced towards Foyle. "From the photograph DCS Foyle retrieved from the Bexhill Constabulary, along with modern technology, I was able to positively identify her as being Miss Margaret Woollenhouse of Bexhill."

Foyle nodded, not all that surprised at what he heard. The only thing different was the fact that she was dead by the time she was in the water.

The rest of the men that gave testimony didn't really add to what was already stated. In fact, there seemed to be no other information available on the woman or what really happened to her in the events that led up to her death.

Now coming out of the court house, Foyle shook his head. It felt like the whole time with the Coroner's Court was a waste of his time and energy, that very same time and energy he could have been using to search for the murderer.

"So she didn't drown?" Sam's question came out more like a statement rather than a question when they neared the station.

Christopher glanced towards his young driver. "Nope."

She sighed. "You know, I wish they could find fingerprints on her body."

"Sam," he stopped, forcing her to stop and look at him. "Even if we had that kind of technology, I don't think it would have worked."

"I still wish we could do that." She shrugged as they paused at the main doors to the station.

"Well, I don't think that will ever happen." He opened the door and stood to the side. Out of habit, he placed a hand on her lower back to steer her into the building before following.

She turned back to him with a smile that lit up her face. "So, when are we off to Bexhill?"

He gave her a smile that reached his light blue eyes while giving her an upside down smile. "Tomorrow morning."

TBC...