‘It’s pretty evident that she wasn’t the most popular resident on the estate, Sarge,’ said DC Penny Osborne, ‘but most of the criticism seems to have come from women. Maybe they were jealous. You did say she was quite good looking, so perhaps—’ She broke off in some confusion; despite having worked in the department for some time as part of his team, she had not yet completely overcome her initial awe of him, or of his sometimes unpredictable moods.
Rathbone nodded. ‘Could be. Anyway, Penny, I want you to go and see Miss Springfield and find out a bit more about the spat at the residents’ meeting. And tomorrow I want to see Ellerman again and also have a talk to Anton Maxworth, so first thing in the morning set up interviews with them. I have to attend the press conference at eleven so make it as soon as possible after that. You can sit in and take notes, and then you can come with me to Maxworth’s.’ He printed off the list of assignments and handed them out. ‘Right, you lot, you’ve got work to do, so get on with it. Being Sunday not everyone will be available, but there are still some outstanding witness statements to follow up,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘Why d’you suppose the Sarge is taking Penny instead of you to see Ellerman?’ asked Vicky as she and Sukey sat down to plan their approach to Mr Bradley Donaldson. ‘I thought you and he were sort of partners.’
Sukey shrugged. ‘It’s true we’ve worked quite closely on a number of cases, but I think he probably wants to build up Penny’s confidence by giving her more experience in dealing with difficult witnesses. And from what I’ve seen of Ellerman so far he seems to go out of his way to be difficult.’
‘You’re probably right. I’ve thought once or twice that Penny needs toughening up a bit.’ Vicky hesitated for a moment before saying, ‘I wondered for a moment . . . don’t get me wrong . . . whether he might be a tad jealous of your relationship with Harry Matthews?’
Sukey stared at her. ‘Jealous of Harry? There’s nothing between me and the Sarge apart from the job. To be honest, I found him rather patronizing at first and I had to work hard to earn his respect, but I think it’s fair to say he takes me seriously now – most of the time anyway! It’s true he has confided in me once or twice about his family problems,’ she added after a moment’s thought. ‘He had some worries a while back – he was afraid his ex was going to move north to be near her sick father, which would have meant he’d no longer be able to have his son for alternate weekends, but that problem solved itself when the old man died.’
Vicky nodded. ‘I see. Right, let’s see if this guy Donaldson is at home and find out if he can add anything to what he’s already said about his mother’s death at the Holmwood Care Home. He’ll be hopping mad when he finds someone’s topped his star witness!’ She reached for the phone, but it rang before she had time to pick it up. ‘Armstrong. Yes . . . put him through.’ She mouthed, ‘It’s him!’ at Sukey and then said: ‘Good morning sir. I was about to call you . . . yes . . . yes . . . of course . . .’
The caller’s voice was so penetrating that Sukey could hear most of what he was saying, which seemed to amount to a demand for the entire Avon and Somerset Police Force to drop work on its other cases and focus all its energies on unmasking the killer of Fenella Tremaine. When at last Vicky managed to get a word in edgeways she said, ‘May I suggest, sir, that my colleague and I come to see you to take a detailed statement? . . . I’m sorry . . . no, I’m afraid that isn’t possible without evidence . . . there are procedures that we have to follow, including interviewing certain other people, but we have to have a word with you first . . . yes, I understand how you feel and I assure you the case is being given the highest priority . . . yes, we can come now. If I may have the address . . . thank you, sir. We’ll be with you in half an hour.’ Vicky gave a grimace as she put down the phone and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow.
‘I gather he’s a mite concerned about Fenella’s demise?’ said Sukey.
Vicky gave a hollow laugh. ‘In spades. He’s quite convinced that her killer is the member of staff at the Holmwood Care Home that he blames for his mother’s death and that the motive was to stop her giving evidence to support his claim against the home for negligence. He only wanted us to go there straight away and arrest the woman.’
‘He makes Ellerman sound like a pussycat,’ said Sukey wryly. ‘You’ve been doing a bit of work on the case; what have you found out so far?’
‘Like I said earlier, he refuses to accept the official verdict of accidental death and of course he sees Fenella’s murder as proof that he was right all along.’
‘What’s his background?’
‘He owns a company with a factory in Avonmouth that makes garden tools. He must be filthy rich; he lives in a very exclusive area just west of the M5 on the way to Weston-super-Mare, in a house called, would you believe, Excalibur, which is his company’s brand name.’
‘I’ve got a pair of secateurs with that name,’ Sukey commented. ‘I use them to prune the roses on my patio.’ She put on her jacket and picked up her bag. ‘I can’t wait! Let’s get rolling!’
An ornate pair of wrought-iron gates in a design incorporating a pair of scimitar-like shapes swung silently open as Vicky and Sukey approached. They were admitted to the house named Excalibur by a man of indeterminate age with an impassive expression, who meticulously scrutinized their IDs before escorting them through the house to a conservatory with a spectacular view over the Bristol Channel.
‘Detective Constables Armstrong and Reynolds, sir,’ he announced, in a voice as colourless as his appearance.
The man who rose to his feet and approached them with a hand outstretched in welcome was about sixty, of medium height, on the portly side, with a high colour and a shining bald pate. ‘Bradley Donaldson,’ he boomed, vigorously pumping their hands. ‘Glad to meet you! Sit down, sit down!’ His voice echoed round the confined space, making Sukey think of an army sergeant-major bellowing orders on the parade ground. He indicated a pair of basket chairs that matched the couch where he had been sitting. On a table in front of them was a tray with a Thermos jug and three cups and saucers. ‘Pour us some coffee, Evans, there’s a good chap!’ The manservant obeyed, handed round the cups, offered milk and sugar and then retreated into the house, closing the door behind him.
‘Now, sir,’ Vicky began, ‘it so happens that shortly before we learned of the discovery of Ms Tremaine’s body I had been asked to review the case of your mother’s death.’
Donaldson grunted. ‘It was about time someone took me seriously, and now I’ve been proved right, haven’t I? Maybe if your lot had got their fingers out earlier, poor Fenella would still be alive and those so-called nurses who were supposed to be caring for my mother would be behind bars before they could cause any more distress.’ His voice suddenly faded; he pulled a handkerchief and dabbed his eyes. ‘Sorry about this,’ he said gruffly. ‘My mother was very dear to me – and to my children. She was getting on in years, of course, and increasingly frail, but she still had all her marbles and she looked forward to my visits. I can still see her face, the way it used to light up every time I went to see her—’ Once again, he was cut short by emotion.
‘Please be assured of our sincere sympathy,’ said Sukey quietly.
He nodded, put away the handkerchief, took a deep swig of coffee and continued in his normal voice. ‘All right, let’s get on with it. What do you want to know?’
‘You referred to Ms Tremaine as “Fenella”,’ Vicky began. ‘How well did you know her?’
‘She used to visit an elderly woman who usually sat beside Mother in the lounge in Holmwood and we got chatting.’
‘A relative?’ asked Sukey.
‘No. I think she was a woman who used to look after her when she was a child. She called her “Auntie Peg” and said she was the only person who ever really loved her.’
‘Why do you suppose that was?’ asked Vicky.
‘I gather her father walked out soon after she was born and her mother took it out on t
he child, as if she was in some way responsible for the breakdown of the marriage.’
‘That must have had a pretty damaging effect,’ Sukey remarked.
‘I’m sure it did. She – Fenella – was in some ways an odd mixture. With Auntie Peg she was gentle and loving, but in her dealings with the staff she was a bit of a battleaxe. If she wasn’t satisfied with the treatment the old lady was getting she’d lay into the staff in no uncertain terms.’
‘Has Auntie Peg been told about her death?’
He gave a sad smile and shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t mean a thing to her. She calls all the female staff “Fenella” – one woman is the same as another to her.’ He made an impatient gesture. ‘Shall we stick to the point? I don’t see what this has got to do with the death of my mother or Fenella’s murder.’
‘It’s important that we find out as much as possible about Fenella’s background,’ Sukey explained. ‘We know she had a daughter, Nancy, who identified her body. Did she ever mention her?’
Donaldson appeared surprised. ‘No, never. Were they close?’
‘We understand they had their differences,’ said Sukey, ‘but there is nothing to indicate that the relationship has any bearing on the case.’
‘Now, according to the medical report submitted at the inquest,’ said Vicky, ‘your mother suffered what was in effect a comparatively mild stroke which in a younger, fitter person would not have been fatal, but in her case—’
‘I know what was said at the inquest,’ Donaldson broke in angrily, ‘and I made the point then that had the staff been doing their job they’d have noticed there was something wrong and called the doctor, in which case she might still be alive. I couldn’t prove it, of course – not at the time. It was only when Fenella told me what she overheard that it became clear that not only was it due to negligence, but there was a deliberate cover-up.’
‘What did she overhear?’
‘She had occasion to go to the office one day some time after Mother’s death and as she approached she distinctly heard two members of staff talking. One said, “Her time was up anyway,” to which the other one replied, “That’s why I didn’t say anything.”’
‘And you assumed they were speaking about your mother?’
‘Well, it was obvious wasn’t it?’
‘Why didn’t this come up at the inquest?’
‘This was after the inquest – in fact, it was the day after Mother’s funeral, which was reported in the local paper. Mother was a local councillor for many years so a lot of people turned up and Fenella was sure that was what they were talking about. She got in touch with me straight away and I immediately said, “I knew those so-called carers weren’t doing their job properly,” and asked her if she’d be willing to give evidence in court and she said she would. And there’s your motive for murder, ladies. What more do you want?’
‘Mr Donaldson, as you are no doubt aware, Fenella Tremaine’s body was discovered in a rubbish skip on the Sycamore Park estate, which is several miles from here,’ Sukey pointed out. ‘Have you any theory as to why that should be the case?’
‘That’s for you to find out; there could be half a dozen reasons. They almost certainly know where she lived – not being a relative, she wouldn’t have been allowed to visit Auntie Peg without producing satisfactory credentials so her address would be on file in the office.’
‘We’ll need their names, of course.’
‘Got them here.’ Donaldson handed over one of his business cards with two names written on the back.
Vicky slid the card into her pocket. ‘Thank you, sir, we’ll be in touch. And thank you for the coffee.’
As the two detectives prepared to leave, Donaldson rose to his feet and said, ‘Anything else I can do . . . anything at all . . . just let me know.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Sukey repeated and then added as an afterthought, ‘In case you’re asked, I’d advise you not to say anything to the press about this interview.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll keep shtum until you’ve made the arrests.’ He picked up a small brass bell and rang it vigorously. ‘Evans will see you out.’
‘It looks as if we have to take this seriously,’ said Sukey as they returned to the car. ‘I guess our next step is to go to the home and interview these two women. The Sarge said we should contact whoever’s in charge beforehand. You’ve been doing the research – I take it you’ve got the details.’
‘Yes, but I vote we go and get something to eat first,’ said Vicky. ‘I’m starving; that mean old so-and-so didn’t even offer us a biscuit with our coffee.’
‘OK,’ Sukey agreed. ‘We may as well go back to HQ and call the home from there.’
FIVE
‘So, Penny, how do you feel after your first press conference?’ asked Rathbone while the media representatives were being escorted from the building shortly before midday on Monday.
‘It was fascinating, Sarge,’ said Penny enthusiastically. ‘I thought the way DCI Leach handled some of the questions was quite masterly. That journalist from the Bristol Evening Echo had obviously done his homework – he knew about Fenella Tremaine being called as a witness in the case that Mr Bradley Donaldson is bringing against the nursing home and he did his best to get more information.’
‘Ah yes, young Harry Matthews,’ said Rathbone. ‘As a matter of fact he’s been helpful to us more than once by turning up bits of evidence. He also nearly got himself and Sukey killed in a tattoo parlour a while back,’ he added with a grin. ‘We’ve laughed about it since, but it wasn’t funny at the time.’
‘I heard about that, of course, but I didn’t recognize him.’ Penny thought for a moment and then began hesitantly, ‘You don’t suppose—’ and then broke off in evident embarrassment.
‘Suppose what?’ said Rathbone impatiently.
‘It’s just that I believe he and Sukey have been seeing each other quite a lot lately.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me. They’re neighbours. What of it?’
‘Well, Sarge, there’s been a lot of stuff in the papers lately about journalists finding out personal details of people involved in criminal cases by hacking into their mobile phones and listening to their voice mail. Could that be how Harry Matthews got his information about Fenella?’
Rathbone frowned. ‘I’ve always thought him pretty high principled in spite of being a journalist. I wouldn’t like to think of him turning out to be that sort of low life, especially as he’s a friend of Sukey’s.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I’m pretty sure, from what Matthews said just now, that everything he knew was already public knowledge. Donaldson isn’t exactly a shrinking violet – he’ll talk to anyone who’ll listen.’
‘So what happens next, Sarge?’
‘As far as you and I are concerned, a quick snack in the canteen before our appointment with Doctor Ellerman. A word of warning,’ he added drily. ‘Mind you don’t fall under the spell of his fatal charm!’
‘You can see why they need new premises,’ Rathbone remarked as they approached the three-storey red-brick building. ‘That pile was put up at the beginning of the last century; it was probably the last word in high-tech disguised as architecture in those days.’
‘It looks more like a country house from here,’ Penny remarked as, after they had been admitted by a uniformed guard, they drove through the gates and followed the drive that ran through well-tended lawns bordered by flower beds on either side. ‘You’d never associate it with an industrial company.’
‘Wait till you get round the back,’ said Rathbone.
Following the signs, Penny found a space in the car park and switched off the ignition. ‘Yes, I see what you mean, Sarge,’ she said, glancing at the heaps of metalwork and various unidentifiable pieces of machinery which were being loaded on to heavy trucks. ‘It looks like a scrap-metal yard.’
‘Which is more or less what it is,’ commented Rathbone. ‘Most of that stuff is well past its sell-by date. That’s why the company’s movi
ng to a new purpose-built factory. I wonder if our friend Ellerman will be one of the unfortunate victims of “natural wastage”,’ he added as they made their way to the front of the building and entered by the main door. ‘It could be that his arrogant manner is a cover-up and that he’s as scared of losing his job as the rest of the staff.’
The receptionist smiled and nodded as she inspected their IDs and said, ‘Doctor Ellerman is expecting you so please go up. His office is on the second floor.’
‘I hope this lift doesn’t break down,’ said Penny as the old-fashioned metal cage creaked its way upwards.
‘It’s in keeping with the terminal state of the premises,’ commented Rathbone.
Ellerman’s office was at the front of the building overlooking the garden. On this bright summer afternoon the room had a cheerful aspect, despite the dark panelling on the walls, the dull red carpet and curtains and the narrow sash windows. On a sunless day in winter it would, Penny thought, be thoroughly depressing.
When they entered, Ellerman was seated behind a huge mahogany desk. Two chairs had been placed in readiness facing him, and with a gesture and a brief, ‘Good afternoon,’ he indicated that they should sit down. ‘I see you’ve brought another attractive member of your harem, Sergeant,’ he said, with an approving glance at Penny.
‘DC Osborne is a valued and highly professional member of the team that is currently investigating the murder of Fenella Tremaine,’ said Rathbone.
‘I’m sure she is,’ said Ellerman, showing no sign of being abashed by the detective’s curt tone. ‘Let’s have your first question, Sergeant.’
‘First of all,’ Rathbone took from his briefcase a photograph of the murder weapon, ‘Do you by any chance recognize this knife – or can you recall seeing one like it?’
Unnatural Wastage Page 4
