The only other way you can access the old beach is by passing through one of the corporate reception areas and subjecting yourself to a grilling by a headset-chimp.â
âHigh and low tides must vary a lot at this time of the year,â said May, squinting up. A few rags of mist were still clinging to the pier stanchions. âThey should give you a rough time of death. What was holding her in place?â
âWell, this is weird,â said Banbury, digging the sand away. âCome a bit closer.â May found himself looking at the stone stump, about a foot in diameter, into which a rusty iron ring was embedded. âItâs the top of an old stanchion, probably used to tie up boats, late 1940s, early 1950s.â
âHow can you tell the period?â May asked.
âPost-war concrete.â The CSM held up a fragment of wet cement and rubbed it in his fingers, watching it dissolve. âThe good stuff was in short supply so they bulked it up with pebbles and shale. You donât think she was chained here alive, do you?â
âGod, I hope not. I wouldnât want to die by ingesting this stuff.â
âOur noble Mayor says the Thames is clean now.â
âI think itâs safe to say that drowning in it would still be a fairly unpleasant experience. What a lonely, miserable death.â May frowned. The ghost of an idea had formed.
Banbury fought the breeze and erected the tent. âIf I get this logged in the next half-hour you can whip her straight over to Giles and he can run tests on her lungs.â
âPunishment.â
âSorry?â
âIsnât that what it feels like to you?â May pointed at the position of the body. âChaining someone to a post in a public place and letting them die? Itâs almost a tradition in this part of the city. Smithfield is just behind us. Thousands died there. Like putting someone in the stocks.â
âYouâre talking about centuries ago,â said Banbury. âDonât start sounding like Mr Bryant.â
âSomebody has to, now that heâs not around.â May rose unsteadily to his feet and stretched his tight spine. The November air was damp and cruel to older bones. âIf she was still alive when she was chained up, why didnât she cry out? Youâd think somebody might have heard her.â
âWhy would they?â Banbury wrestled with a telescopic leg. âItâs deserted around here after midnight, and if you go back a bit thereâs the noise of all-night traffic on the A3211. Maybe she did scream and there was nobody to hear her.â As if on cue, a shriek of laughter came from somewhere on the walkway â the sound of children was rare in this part of the city.
âA good spot for a murder, if you can reach it.â May studied the few boats that traversed the greenish-brown expanse ahead of him. âI donât suppose thereâs any CCTV on the river itself, or the foreshores. But there must be on Lower Thames Street and at the entrances to the underpasses. Know what Iâd do if I wanted to kill someone here? Strangle them in the middle of the subway, out of the sight of cameras, lift the body over that steel gate â causing the contusion on the back of the head â then drag them down to the beach.â
âThen you wouldnât make a very good murderer,â said Banbury. âWhy not leave her in the subway? And youâre going to toss a dead weight over an eight-foot gate? Why go out of your way to make things complicated?â
May shrugged. âYouâre right, weâre missing something. After Iâve got her off to St Pancras, see what you can turn up in the way of video footage. Can you makeââ He stopped and turned. âWait, thatâs no good.â
âWhat?â Banbury rose and followed Mayâs eyeline.
âI was going to say can you make casts, but there shouldnât be anything to