The officer thought for a moment. “That’s pretty obvious as well,” he said. “Porton Way goes straight and then it suddenly curves to the right. It’s not very well lit. If a driver was inattentive—if he was talking to his passenger, or something like that—he could miss the turn, carry straight on and then be in big trouble.”

“And you think that was what happened?”

“We checked the scene. There were no skidmarks, so it looks as if the car left the road at speed.”

Dr. Sams grunted, scribbled some more notes, then asked the officer if he had anything else he wanted to add. The policeman looked at his notes. “The ambulance arrived a few minutes later. The two bodies were pronounced dead at the scene, but we knew that anyway.”

“Is there any suggestion that any other vehicle was involved in the crash?”

“No,” said the officer. “If he crashed because he was avoiding another vehicle, there would have been skid marks of some kind.”

Dr. Sams looked toward those of us in the front row. “Does anyone have any questions arising from this statement?”

I had many, many questions buzzing around my head, but I didn’t think that the answers to any would be found in that officer’s little black notebook. Nobody else spoke either.

“Thank you,” said Dr. Sams. “Could I ask you to stay for a few minutes, in case any questions arise?”

He nodded and made his way to his seat, a few rows behind. It occurred to me that this was probably a morning off for him, an escape from the office and having to fill in reports.

Dr. Sams then called Dr. Mackay. A woman in a trouser suit came forward and sat in the chair. She was about fifty with dark hair that looked dyed. She didn’t swear on the Bible. Instead she read a promise from a piece of paper. I agreed with that in theory, but as she said the words, they sounded thin and unconvincing. I preferred the idea that if you didn’t tell the truth a bolt of lightning would strike you dead and you’d be punished in hell for all eternity.

Dr. Sams looked at us again, especially me, the grieving widow, and him, the grieving widower.

“Dr. Mackay carried out the post-mortem examination on Mr. Manning and Ms. Livingstone. It’s possible that the details in her evidence will be distressing. Therefore some of you might wish to leave the court.”

I felt a hand grip one of my arms. I didn’t look around. I didn’t want to catch anybody’s eye. I simply shook my head.

“Very well,” said Dr. Sams. “Dr. Mackay, will you give us a brief account of your findings?”