Unnatural Wastage

by Betty Rowlands

  ‘Well, I didn’t exactly say that,’ Mrs Thornton said hurriedly.

  ‘But that’s what you thought?’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘You could have been right. And around that time you and your husband went on a long holiday and came back to find the Ellermans gone and the house up for sale. When exactly was that?’

  ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t remember the details after all this time.’ Mrs Thornton cast a helpless look at her husband. ‘Perhaps Albert will know.’

  ‘That’s easy.’ Her husband went to a bureau and took out a folder. ‘It’s all in here.’ He began flicking through the contents. ‘It was a special trip to celebrate our ruby wedding and my retirement; we flew to New Zealand to visit our daughter and her family and we stayed with them for just over two weeks. Then we joined a cruise ship and came back by sea.’

  ‘Oh, it was such a lovely trip, wasn’t it Albert?’ His wife had been listening with a dreamy smile on her face.

  ‘I’m sure it was.’ Sukey was beginning to think Rathbone must have found Mrs Thornton a somewhat frustrating witness. ‘But it would help us if we knew exactly when and for how long you were away,’ she added.

  ‘A little over six weeks,’ said her husband. ‘We left here on the fifteenth of March and arrived back home on the thirtieth of April.’

  ‘So it was some time between those dates that the Ellermans moved out,’ said Sukey. ‘We know that it was around that time that he moved into his present address on his own.’

  ‘On his own? Oh dear!’ Edie Thornton’s face crumpled in dismay. ‘Do you suppose something went wrong with the baby and she died and he just couldn’t bear to live here any more?’

  ‘We don’t know yet what happened or why he moved,’ said Sukey, ‘but we mean to find out. Did you happen to ask any of your neighbours if they could tell you the exact date?’

  Albert Thornton shook his head. ‘I certainly didn’t – chatting with neighbours is more in Edie’s line.’ He turned to his wife. ‘You did ask the lady at The Laurels, didn’t you?’

  Edie nodded. ‘You mean Mrs Parr, the music teacher? Yes, I did mention it to her but she couldn’t remember exactly. We all thought it was odd, them disappearing like that without a word to anyone, but they’d never been what you’d call neighbourly so—’

  ‘I understand,’ interrupted Sukey. ‘I get the impression that the Ellermans were younger than most of the people living round here. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Albert Thornton.

  ‘He was a few years older than her, though,’ said Edie.

  Sukey put away her notebook and stood up. ‘Well thank you very much for the coffee, and for being so helpful. By the way, do any of them still live here besides you . . . I mean the people who were here at the same time as the Ellermans?’

  ‘Oh yes, most of them in fact,’ said Albert. He, too, stood up and moved as if to escort Sukey to the door, then stopped and took a pair of secateurs out of his pocket. ‘Just a moment,’ he said. He opened the garden door, stepped outside and snipped a bud from the nearest rose bush. ‘For the lady who loves roses,’ he said with a courtly little bow as he tucked it into Sukey’s buttonhole.

  Back in her car, Sukey called Rathbone. He was out so she left a message giving the details of the car that according to Albert Thornton had been driven by the woman living with Ellerman. ‘I managed to get a few other bits of useful information from the Thorntons – mainly from Mister T,’ she added. ‘I think it’s worth speaking to one or two of the other neighbours and that’s what I’ll be doing if you want to contact me.’

  Sukey called first at The Laurels, one of half a dozen similar properties that formed a loop off a road skirting The Downs. She arrived just as a young woman was collecting a little girl carrying a violin case so she waited until the mother had installed the child in her car and driven away before ringing the doorbell, showing her ID and explaining the purpose of her visit.

  Mrs Parr invited her into the entrance hall and closed the front door. ‘I’m afraid I can’t be of much help,’ she said. ‘We all knew the Ellermans by sight, of course, although Edie Thornton was the only one who had much to do with them. She’s a very friendly soul; she called round soon after they moved in to welcome them and offer helpful information about the neighbourhood and so on, but I gather she got the impression that Doctor Ellerman politely told her they had all they needed thank you very much. They pretty well kept themselves to themselves and I suppose we all assumed it was because they were newly-weds and were quite happy to be on their own. And of course they were quite a bit younger than most of us.’

  ‘About how long were they living there?’

  ‘I don’t recall exactly. There was an old man – a Mr Armitage, a widower – who’d lived there for years. When his wife died he went to live in a home and the house stood empty for a while.’

  ‘Presumably it went up for sale?’

  Mrs Parr thought for a moment. ‘No, I don’t believe it did – or at least, there was never a For Sale board outside.’

  ‘Perhaps it was sold before the agent got around to putting one up,’ Sukey suggested. ‘Going back to the Ellermans, would you say they were happy as a couple?’

  Mrs Parr shrugged. ‘Who can say? He used to be out during the day but now and again I saw them going out together and they seemed all right. I’m out myself quite a lot – I teach music at several schools, so I don’t . . .’ She spread her slim, tapering fingers in a slightly theatrical gesture that seemed to say ‘I have my own life to lead; what other people do is no concern of mine.’

  ‘I know this is going back about six years, but can you remember anything about the time they moved out of the house called The Laburnums?’

  ‘I can’t tell you the exact date, but I believe the removal company was Bryant and Wheeler.’

  ‘Thank you; that could be a great help,’ said Sukey. ‘I don’t suppose you remember the name of the estate agent who handled the sale?’

  ‘I do as it happens; it was Melton and Keen. They handle quite a lot of properties round here; in fact we bought this house through them.’ Mrs Parr gave Sukey a searching look. ‘You told me this is in connection with a murder enquiry. Would that be the woman who was found stabbed in Sycamore Park? It said in the Echo that a man has been questioned and released on bail – would that be Doctor Ellerman by any chance?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you anything that hasn’t been officially released,’ said Sukey. She turned to leave. ‘Thank you very much for your help.’

  Mrs Parr was about to close the door behind her when she reopened it and called her back. ‘Just a moment,’ she said, ‘I’ve thought of something else you might be interested in. I seem to remember seeing Mrs Ellerman there with another man some time before she and her husband moved in.’

  ‘Someone from the estate agent?’ Sukey suggested.

  ‘I don’t think so; they came together in his car and they seemed to know each other.’

  ‘Can you describe him or the car?’

  Mrs Parr shook her head. ‘It was over eight years ago,’ she pointed out. ‘I had the impression he was quite a bit older than her and he drove an expensive-looking car.’

  ‘Do you remember the colour?’

  ‘I have a feeling it was dark red, but I can’t be sure.’

  ‘I see. Well, thank you once again for your help,’ said Sukey warmly. She made a few notes before heading for the next house.

  ‘This is intolerable, Sergeant!’ Jason Pollard glared across the table at DS Rathbone. ‘Isn’t it enough that my client has been placed on police bail on the flimsiest of circumstantial evidence without this intrusion into his private grief? Can’t you see how distressing this is for him?’ He indicated Ellerman, who sat with his hands in his lap and his head slightly bowed.

  Penny Osborne, seated beside Rathbone, was struck by the change in his demeanour since the first time she saw him. Then, he had been self-assured to
the point of arrogance, even casting flirtatious glances in her direction; later, when caught out in lies and unable to give a convincing account of his movements at the time of Fenella Tremaine’s murder, he had become less and less sure of himself.

  ‘Murder is a distressing business,’ said Rathbone drily. ‘Now, we know that one woman is dead and that your client was closely associated with her. We also know that six years ago he was living in a house in North Bristol called The Laburnums with a woman some years younger than himself. At about this time the woman – whom the neighbours naturally assumed to be his wife – appeared to be pregnant, but looked to a concerned neighbour to be unwell, declined invitations similar to those she had accepted in the past, and in fact was not seen again. Subsequently your client put The Laburnums on the market and moved to his present address in Sycamore Park.’

  ‘My client has already told you that his wife died about six years ago,’ said Pollard. ‘What possible relevance can her death have to your enquiries?’

  ‘The fact is that your client is lying,’ said Rathbone. ‘He claims to be a widower, but is unable to produce either a marriage or a death certificate to support the claim and has refused to give us any information about the woman with whom he was living. Moreover, we have not so far found anyone who has seen or heard from her since your client left The Laburnums.’ He turned to Ellerman. ‘We shall of course find all this out for ourselves, but it would save us a lot of time and trouble if you would tell us the truth.’

  Ellerman raised his head and looked directly at Rathbone. ‘All right, I admit Julie and I weren’t married,’ he said, ‘but when she died it felt like being widowed. That’s all I can say.’

  Before Rathbone had a chance to put a further question, Pollard laid a hand on his client’s arm. ‘Sergeant,’ he said sternly, ‘are you seriously implying that in addition to suspecting my client of murdering Fenella Tremaine – for which you have failed to establish the slightest vestige of a motive – he also caused the death of the woman he loved?’

  Rathbone ignored the interruption. He showed no sign of being moved by what seemed to Penny to be genuine emotion. ‘What did Julie die of?’ he asked.

  ‘She had a miscarriage.’

  ‘What was her full name and when and where did she die?’

  Ellerman made a dismissive gesture. ‘That’s all I’m saying. Other people will be hurt if this gets out.’

  ‘If there’s anything suspicious about Julie’s death it most certainly will get out.’ Rathbone’s tone was harsh and his manner without pity. ‘All right, that’s all for now.’

  At the end of the afternoon the team foregathered as usual in DCI Leach’s office for the daily debriefing. When he had heard all their reports he gave a sigh of resignation. ‘We’ve obviously got a lot more work to do. It’s a pity Thornton couldn’t recall the complete registration number of Julie’s car, but at least he’s given us something to go on. In any case, if she is dead it will have been sold on, probably through a local dealer. We’ll need to trace the man who took her to the house shortly after Mr Armitage moved out. Maybe they were all related and he let the house to her. Greg –’ he turned to DS Rathbone – ‘did you get any joy from Maxworth’s about Ellerman’s salary at the relevant time?’

  ‘Not yet, sir, but they’re working on it,’ said Rathbone with a hint of resignation. ‘It was about the time Anton Maxworth was trying to persuade his uncle to computerize the accounts department and things were a bit chaotic.’

  ‘Stone walls at every turn,’ said Leach, ‘but with just a few chinks to give us hope.’ He glanced at the calendar on his desk. ‘Friday tomorrow – exactly a week since the night Fenella died. It would be good if we had a breakthrough by the weekend. Keep at it, troops!’

  Soon after Sukey reached home there was a call from Harry. ‘There’s a bit of late news that I think will interest you,’ he said. ‘Is it OK if I pop round?’

  ‘Of course. Love to see you.’ She slipped off her jacket, gently took the white rosebud from the buttonhole and went to find a vase. She had just set it on a low table by the sitting room window when he arrived. ‘Look what a handsome gentleman witness gave me as a token of his esteem!’ she said teasingly.

  ‘Very nice,’ he said. ‘Don’t you want to hear this hot bit of news?’

  ‘Of course I do, but you might at least pretend to be jealous.’

  ‘Never mind the small talk; this is serious.’ He showed her a mock-up of the next day’s early edition of the Echo and pointed to an item under the headline: ‘Car Leaves Road and Hits Wall – Woman Driver Killed.’

  Sukey read the report with growing consternation. ‘It names the victim as Jennifer Freeman,’ she said, ‘and the scene of the accident is only a mile or so from Holmwood. There’s nothing here to say what time it happened. I know she was going there after I interviewed her yesterday morning; was it on her way there or on her way back?’

  ‘Does it make a difference?’

  ‘It might.’

  FOURTEEN

  There was no breakthrough before the weekend. Meanwhile, uniformed police officers continued their search for the sheath that had contained Marcus Ellerman’s knife and Rathbone’s team continued to hunt for any possible link between him and Fenella Tremaine that might suggest a motive for murder. Regret was expressed by members of the team at the death of Jennifer Freeman, but it was generally accepted that enquiries into the cause of the accident were a matter for the traffic division and of no concern to the CID. Only Sukey had her reservations, which for the time being she shared with no one in the team but Vicky when, together with the rest of the team, they returned to the CID office late on Monday.

  ‘I keep telling myself it isn’t feasible,’ she admitted, ‘but I can’t get rid of the feeling that somewhere there’s a link. From some of today’s headlines, the red tops would certainly like to think so,’ she added.

  ‘Link between what?’ asked Vicky.

  ‘Remember Penny’s suggestion that Carla Seaton might have killed Fenella because of her affair with her husband?’

  ‘And was shot down in flames by the Sarge?’ Vicky grinned.

  ‘Yes, well, having met Carla I think we’re both prepared to believe she’s capable of murder, but it’s hard to see how she could have got her hands on Marcus Ellerman’s knife, let alone have known when and where she’d have a chance to use it. As for Jennifer Freeman’s accident, I know she was going to Holmwood on Wednesday morning after I interviewed her; if it happened on the way there, it’s hard to see how Carla could have caused it, but if it was on the way back . . .’

  ‘Well, the boys in traffic division will soon find out if there was anything suspicious about it,’ said Vicky. ‘It sounds pretty far-fetched to me, but knowing what you’re like, you won’t let it rest until you find the answer. My money’s still on Ellerman as Fenella’s killer and Jennifer’s accident having nothing to do with the case. Ah, here’s the Sarge; I think we’re being summoned to the presence.’

  ‘It comes as no surprise,’ said DCI Leach when they were all assembled in his office, ‘that certain sections of the media are hinting at some kind of ghoulish connection between Jennifer Freeman, Fenella Tremaine and the man we’ve been interviewing in the latter’s murder. “Serial Killer at Large?” is a typical headline. Needless to say, we’ve done our best to discourage that sort of speculation; this morning’s press release warned against causing panic among women living alone and stressing that we’re following a number of leads . . . hundreds of officers working on the case . . . appeals for anyone with information to come forward . . . the usual stuff. It seems from your verbal reports that we’ve made some progress. Greg, you go first.’

  ‘I checked first of all with the management company at Sycamore Park, sir,’ Rathbone began. ‘I’d assumed that Ellerman moved into the flat where he’s now living when he left The Laburnums, but it turned out that he actually bought the lease on the flat about twelve years ago and lived there for a
while – maybe three or four years; I haven’t been able to establish the exact dates – and then moved out. Presumably that was when he moved into The Laburnums with Julie, but it turns out he didn’t sell the flat, he rented it to a couple who lived there until he went back after her death. Incidentally, he joined Maxworth’s at about the time he first moved in.’

  ‘Have you spoken to anyone in Sycamore Park who remembers that far back?’ asked Leach.

  ‘Unfortunately not, sir. Only a handful of the people living there now have been there longer than five years.’

  ‘Hm.’ Leach tapped his front teeth with his ballpoint pen. ‘There’s one aspect of Ellerman’s character that’s been puzzling me over the weekend. He came across at first as arrogant and full of self-assurance, and most of the people we’ve interviewed have said the same. He also likes to make out he’s a bit of a ladykiller, but no one has mentioned seeing him out with a woman, or seen women calling on him. Julie obviously fell for him in a big way – enough to move in with him and get pregnant. Sukey, I believe you’ve managed to find out a bit more about her.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I went to see old Mr Armitage, the previous owner of The Laburnums. The neighbours thought he’d gone into residential care, but it turns out he’s living in sheltered accommodation and still has a degree of independence. It was rather an emotional interview because Julie was his granddaughter and his only living relative. He absolutely doted on her and was heartbroken when she died.’

  ‘So she is dead?’

  ‘Oh yes, sir, but it wasn’t from a miscarriage. Julie went to him in great distress one day and told him she was pregnant. She’d expected Ellerman to be delighted, but instead he told her to have an abortion because he didn’t want to be bothered with a child. He said in effect it was either that or it was all over between them. The old man was shocked, of course, and tried to persuade her to have the baby and he’d look after them both, but she was completely besotted with Ellerman and said she would go along with whatever he wanted. So she had the abortion, but soon after picked up an infection from it. Unfortunately, she attributed the heavy bleeding and pains to the abortion itself and didn’t seek medical attention. A couple of days later she went into toxic shock syndrome, and by the time she got to the hospital it was too late to save her, even with antibiotics. Unsurprisingly, Mr Armitage blames Ellerman for the delay in getting Julie treatment.’ Sukey checked her notebook. ‘Mr Armitage said, “I couldn’t believe what a heartless swine he turned out to be, but he fooled me completely. He came across as a decent sort with a steady job who really cared for Julie.”’