Unnatural Wastage (9 page)

‘So when are you seeing them?'

‘Ten o'clock tomorrow, sir,' said Vicky.

‘Good,' said Leach. ‘There are a couple of other things we have to consider. Sukey, both you and Penny commented on Ellerman's roving eye, so it's fair to assume he's a womanizer. He's already dismissed a suggestion that he found Fenella attractive, and it may be true, but I think we need to dig a little deeper into his past. The same goes for Fenella herself – she may have a secret life that she's managed to conceal from her neighbours. So far a search of her flat hasn't revealed anything of much help to us and hardly anything in the way of correspondence apart from letters from charities to thank her for donations. We think she probably did most of her business affairs such as banking on her PC. We've taken it away for examination but it'll be a while before we get any results there. It's interesting to note –' at this point he referred to the file on his desk – ‘that further house-to-house visits have revealed several neighbours who made more positive comments about her, saying things like “she was a really good person under that no-nonsense exterior” and “we could do with a few more people with her high standards”.'

‘Which suggests that the ones who rushed forward to give their opinions were people who'd had a brush with her and possibly come off worst,' Rathbone remarked.

‘That wouldn't surprise me.' Sukey detected a note of world-weariness in Leach's voice before he added, with an unexpected spark of humour, ‘I note that one person described her as “a bit of a lush who used to sneak down to the recycling centre after dark to dispose of her empties”.' Leach turned to DC Pringle. ‘You, Tim, mentioned that John Yardley's comments were on the whole positive, didn't you?'

‘That's right, sir,' said Tim, ‘but on reflection there is one thing he said that I thought rather strange. He said, “It's a pity she was the one who had to die” – as though he had some kind of gut feeling that one of them was for the chop.'

‘Do you think he suspects Ellerman then?'

‘He was careful not to say so but yes, I think he probably does.'

‘If Ellerman was aware of Fenella's habits of sneaking down after dark with her empties, sir, he could easily have watched out for a suitable opportunity,' suggested Vicky.

‘It's only hearsay of course,' said Leach, ‘and we certainly didn't find a large amount of booze in her flat, but of course she may have disposed of a lot of empties just before she was killed. Forensics are checking the contents of the bin for prints, but it was pretty full so it's a mammoth task.' He turned to Rathbone. ‘Right, Greg, it's over to you. I'd like all the written reports on today's interviews by the end of this afternoon. Make sure everyone knows exactly what they've got to do tomorrow.'

‘I'
m afraid, Henry,' Patsy Godwin informed the cat that was purring contentedly on her lap, ‘that I'm going to have to abandon you again – for a couple of days this time. Awfully sorry!' she added as the purring abruptly ceased. ‘But don't worry, you aren't going to starve. I've asked Mrs Puffitt to come in twice a day and give you your food and milk. You know how fond she is of you,' Patsy coaxed, giving him an encouraging tickle behind the ears. ‘She always brings you titbits on cleaning days.' After some hesitation the purring began again, although the volume was noticeably lower.

‘You see, Henry,' Patsy continued between sips from a cup of tea, ‘Cousin Kate is in a tizzy because she can't make up her mind whether or not to tell the police who she saw, or thought she saw, the night before that awful murder was discovered. She keeps saying she doesn't want to throw suspicion on an innocent person, and she can't be absolutely sure and so on and so forth, but if she says nothing and the person she isn't sure she saw goes on to kill someone else she'll feel absolutely dreadful. We've spent ages on the phone and I've told her till I'm blue in the face that she really should tell the police and in the end she said she would if I'd go with her and stay overnight in case they want to talk to her again. You do see my problem, don't you? Oh, all right, suit yourself if you want to sulk,' she added crossly as the cat jumped off her lap and stalked out of the room, his tail held erect as a symbol of disapproval. Patsy finished her tea, washed up her cup, saucer and plate, and went to pack an overnight bag.

‘Good morning. Please come in.' The speaker, a slim, apple-cheeked woman of about fifty, escorted DCs Vicky Armstrong and Sukey Reynolds into a pleasantly furnished sitting room where a woman who appeared a few years older was already seated on a couch in front of the window. She sat down beside her and waved a hand at two chairs facing them. ‘Please sit down,' she said. ‘My name's Patricia Godwin and this is my cousin, Kate Springfield, who has some information she thinks may be helpful to your enquiries. She has asked me to sit with her while she talks to you. I hope you have no objection?'

‘None whatsoever,' Sukey assured her. ‘We appreciate your response to our appeal for further information, Ms Springfield. Just in case you're worried about publicity,' she went on, noticing the agitated movement of Kate's hands, ‘any information you give us at this stage is confidential and we won't release your name to the press.'

‘That isn't what I'm worried about,' Kate said hurriedly, ‘although of course I wouldn't want my name to be in the papers so thank you for saying that, but what worries me is not being sure about whether I'm doing the right thing you see, and . . . well, I did think of saying something to that nice young officer who came to see me yesterday morning, DC Osborne, but all she asked about was that disagreement and in the end I didn't—'

‘Ms Springfield, it's not unusual for people to feel hesitant about speaking to the police,' Sukey interposed, sensing that the witness had a tendency to ramble on and anxious not to be late for their appointment at the Holmwood Care Home, ‘so just relax and tell us what's on your mind. We're talking about the evening of last Friday, the twenty-sixth of July, aren't we – the evening before Ms Tremaine's body was discovered? What exactly happened that you think might be important?'

Kate glanced at her cousin, who gave an encouraging nod. ‘It was a little before ten,' she began. ‘I'm sure of that because it was nearly time for the news. It was getting dark so I went to close the curtains.'

‘And while you were doing that, did you look out of the window?' Sukey prompted.

‘Yes . . . that is, no. I mean, I'd left the balcony door open and before I closed it I stepped out on to the balcony to get a breath of air. It was rather a warm evening, you see.'

‘And did you look around?'

‘Yes, I suppose I must have done,' said Kate. ‘And then I saw,' she went on, speaking slowly at first but then in hurried, staccato bursts, ‘or I thought I saw . . . I didn't think anything of it at the time . . . after all, he lives here and there was no reason why he shouldn't be there . . . although of course it was rather late . . . it was only after we heard the dreadful news of the murder, that I remembered it . . . and I kept thinking about what happened at the meeting.' Kate broke off and put her hands to her eyes. ‘Oh dear!' she wailed. ‘I can't be sure it was him and it might not have anything to do with this dreadful business.'

‘Suppose you let us be the judge of that,' said Vicky. ‘Just tell us what you saw. You said “he” – you're certain it was a man?'

‘Oh yes, I'm pretty sure of that.' Kate began to sound more confident. ‘A well-built man, quite tall.'

‘How was he dressed?'

Kate closed her eyes as she tried to recall the image. ‘Let's see. I'm sure he wore trousers, not shorts, quite light coloured, and a shirt with long sleeves. No jacket; as I said, it was a warm evening.'

‘Very good,' said Vicky. ‘What was he doing?'

‘He wasn't
doing
anything.' Kate began to hesitate again. ‘He was just there, and I only saw him for a few moments. He seemed to be looking this way and that, almost as if he'd heard something.'

‘Did you recognize him?'

‘Oh dear, that's what I can't be sure of . . . I don't want to accuse an innocent person.' Kate became visibly distressed and her cousin put an arm round her shoulders and pushed a tissue into her hand.

‘Just saying you thought you saw a certain person in a certain place at a certain time doesn't amount to an accusation,' Sukey began, doing her best to conceal her impatience. ‘Even if it is the person you thought you saw, he may have had a perfectly innocent reason for being there. So just tell us who you thought this man was.'

There was a long silence while Kate blew her nose, dried her eyes on the soggy tissue, swallowed hard and whispered. ‘I thought it was Doctor Ellerman.'

‘Can you say why you thought it was him and not some other person of similar build?'

Kate frowned and thought for a moment before saying. ‘I've only lived here a short time so I don't know many people. I particularly noticed Doctor Ellerman at the meeting because he had a lot to say and there was that disagreement so I paid a lot of attention to him.'

‘Yes, we know about the meeting,' said Sukey. That was some weeks ago, we understand. Let's go back to Friday evening. How clearly did you see him? Is there a light in that area?'

‘It wasn't quite dark, you see . . . and when I first saw him he was in shadow and then he stood still for a moment like I said, looking around, and then he walked away and I just came indoors.'

‘Do you mean he was in shadow at first and then moved into the light?' asked Vicky.

‘It wasn't exactly light where he was standing; just less dark.'

‘The security lights by the waste centre are comparatively dim,' Patsy Godwin interposed. ‘I don't imagine they expect people to go there after dark.'

‘That's what struck me as strange; I mean, that anyone should be there as late as that,' said Kate, with a surge of confidence as if her cousin's comment strengthened her justification for speaking out.

‘You said he moved away – do you mean back into the shadows?'

‘No, in the other direction.'

‘Towards the front door to the flats?'

‘No, past the side of the building and out of sight.'

‘Did you hear anything? Voices, perhaps, or a car starting up a few moments later?'

Kate shook her head. ‘No, I came in and shut the door. As I said, I thought nothing of it until—' Her momentary flash of confidence seemed to evaporate and she began pounding closed fists on her lap. ‘Oh, dear, I do hope I haven't been wasting your time!' she exclaimed.

‘On the contrary, Ms Springfield,' said Sukey, ‘it's possible you have given us extremely valuable information. I have just one more question about the meeting where Doctor Ellerman and Ms Tremaine had what we understand was a rather strong difference of opinion. What makes you think it has anything to do with this murder?'

‘They had been arguing for several minutes . . . they really became quite cross with one another, and then . . . just as the chairman intervened . . . I'll never forget the way he . . . Doctor Ellerman looked at Mrs Tremaine as he sat down . . . almost as if he'd like to . . .'

‘Like to what?' said Vicky.

The response came in a barely audible whisper. ‘Kill her.'

‘I thought we'd never get away!' said Vicky with some feeling as she and Sukey returned to their car after thanking Kate for her help and giving repeated assurances that she had done exactly the right thing in talking to them. ‘The old bat did go on a bit – we'll have to get a move on if we're going to be at Holmwood by ten.'

‘We'd better report back to the Sarge,' said Sukey. ‘You drive; I'll call him on the way.'

By the time they reached the entrance to Holmwood, Sukey had given DS Rathbone a brief outline of Kate Springfield's observations, which he pounced on with a rare show of enthusiasm. ‘Let's see what the cocky bugger has to say about that!' he almost gloated. ‘Well done the pair of you!'

‘It seems we've collected some Brownie points.' Sukey grinned as Vicky turned in through the gates of Holmwood Care Home.

‘Great. Let's see if we can rack up a few more.'

They pressed the bell beside the front door of the modern, brick-built building and were admitted by a young olive-skinned woman wearing a spotless white overall and a blue headscarf. ‘Mr Seaton is in the office,' she said in a soft, lilting voice as they showed her their IDs. ‘Please come this way.'

Brian Seaton was tall, fair-haired and unexpectedly youthful in appearance. He rose to meet the detectives with a smile of welcome, revealing immaculate teeth. ‘My wife told me to expect you and she apologizes for not meeting you herself,' he began as he reached across the desk to shake their hands and invited them with a wave at a couple of chairs to sit down. ‘She's having a discussion with the doctor – we're rather concerned about one of our residents. I do assure you,' he went on earnestly, ‘that the well-being of all our residents is of paramount importance to us and we have been greatly distressed by Mr Donaldson's allegations. The coroner's verdict at the inquest indicated quite clearly that no blame attached to any of our staff, so we completely refute his charge of negligence.'

‘As I explained to your wife on the telephone,' Vicky began, ‘we are currently investigating the murder of Ms Fenella Tremaine. As part of our investigations we are trying to build up a picture of her background and private life. We understand that she was a frequent visitor to one of your residents; we don't know the lady's name but we understand Ms Tremaine used to call her Auntie Peg.'