Unnatural Wastage

by Betty Rowlands

  Sukey noticed that at the mention of the agency Ellerman gave a slight start and his belligerent attitude appeared to soften. He hesitated for a moment before saying, ‘I have a contract with the cleaning agency you mention, yes. The lady who cleans my flat is employed by them.’ He spoke slowly with a hand to his eyes, as if groping in his memory for something half forgotten.

  ‘Do you happen to know her name?’

  ‘Good heavens no – why on earth should I? In fact,’ he went on, this time with renewed confidence, ‘she comes when I’m out; I’m in my office all day Monday to Friday and that’s why I agreed, subject to the usual assurances about the woman’s honesty and so forth, to allow the agency to supply her with a key.’

  ‘Are you telling us that you have never set eyes on this woman?’

  ‘Haven’t I just said so?’

  ‘Do you at least know which day she comes to clean your flat?’

  ‘I can always tell when she’s been by the state of the place.’ He put a hand to his forehead again and winced. ‘I think . . . yes, that’s right . . . I’m pretty sure Wednesday’s her day. Excuse me, I need . . .’ Walking a trifle unsteadily, he left the room.

  It was some time before he returned and sat down. Before Rathbone could speak, Pollard said, ‘Really, Sergeant, even if the dead woman turns out to be the same woman who cleans my client’s flat, it seems clear from what he has told you that he cannot possibly be involved in her death, nor have any motive for killing her. As you can see, he is far from well and I am therefore advising him not to answer any more questions. On his behalf I am asking you and your colleagues to leave.’ He stood up, and then sat down again as Rathbone put up a hand.

  ‘Not so fast, sir. I have further questions for your client. His indisposition doesn’t appear to be serious and if he refuses to answer we shall have no alternative but to arrest him.’

  Ellerman and Pollard exchanged shocked glances and then looked back at Rathbone. ‘And your reason for this assertion, Sergeant?’ said Pollard as Ellerman mopped his brow with a handkerchief, apparently bereft of speech.

  Ignoring Pollard, Rathbone leaned forward and fixed Ellerman with a penetrating gaze. ‘Doctor Ellerman, we have a witness who saw you return to your flat around midday last Wednesday, contrary to your usual practice. The same witness also observed a young woman – whom she has seen on a number of occasions entering the building shortly after midday on Wednesdays – arriving at her usual time. We therefore feel it is safe to assume that she arrived while you were there. She normally leaves a little over an hour after her arrival, but it appears that on this occasion she did not do so. And –’ Rathbone paused for a moment, as was his normal practice before delivering his most telling point – ‘that young woman has not been seen alive since.’

  Ellerman’s jaw dropped and he put both hands to his temples and closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Oh my God!’ he gasped.

  He cast an appealing glance at Pollard, who stood up, took him by the arm and drew him to his feet. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ he said in an urgent whisper.

  ‘In my study,’ Ellerman replied.

  Pollard turned to Rathbone. ‘Sergeant, I insist that you allow me some time to confer with my client.’

  Rathbone spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘By all means. We’ve got the bugger rattled,’ he said with satisfaction as the two withdrew, closing the door behind them. ‘He didn’t bargain for witnesses – there aren’t many people around at midday. I wonder what cock-and-bull yarn he’ll come up with.’ He rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. ‘What’s the betting he’ll give us a good reason to take him back to the station on suspicion and interview him again, this time under caution?’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Marcus Ellerman showed no reaction as DS Rathbone, seated between DCs Sukey Reynolds and Vicky Armstrong, switched on the tape and reminded him that he was being interviewed under caution. When asked if he understood he answered ‘Yes’ with more than a hint of arrogance as if, Sukey thought, what he would really have liked to say was, ‘Of course I understand – do you take me for a halfwit?’

  ‘When I questioned you an hour or so ago about the arrangements you have for cleaning your flat,’ Rathbone began, ‘you stated that this service has been carried out every Wednesday for the past few weeks by an employee of the Clean as a Whistle agency. You also went on to say – or at least to imply – that you had never seen the woman who does the work because she has a key to your flat and cleans it in the daytime, that is, during your absence. Is that true?’

  Ellerman glanced at his lawyer, Jason Pollard, who was seated beside him. ‘May I point out, Sergeant,’ said Pollard, ‘that my client has already admitted inadvertently making a slightly misleading statement due to a temporary lapse of memory.’

  ‘And may I point out,’ said Rathbone in a voice that held a hint of steel, ‘that the question I have just put to your client was a perfectly straightforward one to which I require a straightforward answer.’ He turned back to Ellerman. ‘Do you admit to having made that slightly misleading statement –’ he made quotation marks with his fingers – ‘as your legal adviser puts it?’

  ‘All right, yes . . . I did say that at first,’ Ellerman admitted, ‘but that was before—’

  ‘Before you were confronted with evidence that proved you were lying?’ Rathbone interrupted.

  ‘I was not deliberately lying,’ Ellerman retorted angrily. ‘As I’ve already explained, I made a simple mistake . . . I so rarely return home during the day that for the moment I simply forgot. As you know, I’m not feeling very well this morning,’ he went on a little peevishly, putting a hand to his forehead as if appealing for sympathy. Behind Rathbone’s back, Sukey and Vicky exchanged glances. ‘Your unannounced arrival caught me on the hop,’ he continued. ‘I suppose it just slipped my memory.’

  ‘You so rarely return home during the day,’ Rathbone mocked. ‘Most people tend to remember anything out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t seem to apply in your case. Are you saying your brain can only deal with routine, run-of-the-mill events?’

  ‘I have a very responsible job which requires me to deal with a great many important matters,’ Ellerman retorted, evidently stung by the implication. ‘Multitasking is something I have to do all the time. As I’ve just said, your visit so early in the morning was totally unexpected and I spoke without thinking.’

  ‘Ah yes, we caught you on the hop, didn’t we? A rather thin excuse for such an obvious error, especially from a man holding a senior position in an industrial company, don’t you think?’

  ‘No comment,’ said Ellerman after a quick glance at Pollard.

  ‘Doctor Ellerman,’ Rathbone continued, ‘I put it to you that there was a particular reason why you went back to your flat that day . . . a very urgent reason connected with this.’ He picked up a newspaper that was lying on the shelf beside him and passed it across the table. ‘For the tape, I am showing Doctor Ellerman the front page of the Bristol Echo dated Wednesday the seventh of August. It carries a picture of the sheath belonging to the knife used to kill Fenella Tremaine, found the previous day by a member of the public. Did you see this report?’

  Ellerman gave the paper a cursory glance before tossing it back. ‘I don’t read the local rag,’ he said disdainfully.

  ‘Can I take that as “no”?’

  ‘If you like.’

  ‘I am told that the Echo is highly regarded for its coverage of regional business affairs and local politics and is read by many people of your standing,’ said Rathbone.

  Ellerman shrugged. ‘That’s as may be. I prefer something with a bit more substance, such as the Financial Times.’

  ‘Do you recognize the object in the photograph?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Doctor Ellerman, you have previously admitted ownership of the knife used to kill Fenella Tremaine – a knife that you claim was stolen. The detailed workmanship on the sheath in this illustration
is identical in design to that on the handle of your knife. Are you suggesting there is no connection between the two?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘The report accompanying this picture says that the sheath was recovered in Corley Woods. Do you know the area?’

  ‘I’ve heard of it.’

  ‘Have you ever been there?’

  ‘Not that I remember.’

  ‘Today is the eleventh of August and the seventh of August, the date this report appeared, was last Wednesday. Wednesday is the day your cleaner comes to clean your flat. Witnesses have told us that in the morning of that particular Wednesday she saw this report and appeared very upset by it. She then appeared uneasy about going to her next job – something the witnesses are convinced was in some way due to the picture of the sheath. Have you any idea why this should be so?’

  ‘None whatsoever.’

  ‘Well I have.’ It was clear to Sukey from his tone that Rathbone was beginning to lose patience with Ellerman’s evasive replies. ‘The woman’s next job was to clean your flat, and in the circumstances it is not unreasonable to draw the conclusion that this was the cause of her anxiety. I put it to you,’ he went on, leaning forward and thumping the table with his fist to emphasize each point, ‘that having used your knife to kill Fenella Tremaine you had the problem of disposing of the sheath. To leave it in one of the skips was out of the question and to discard it in the immediate neighbourhood was also too risky. Sycamore Park and the surrounding area was obviously where the police would begin their search, so you decided to wait for a few days and then find a suitable opportunity to dispose of it some distance away – such as in Corley Woods, for example. Meanwhile, you had to keep it somewhere in your flat – out of sight, naturally, possibly in a drawer in your study – before disposing of it. You saw that report and realized that your cleaner had probably seen it as well. She might even have noticed the knife in the display case before you used it to kill Fenella and thought nothing of it at the time . . . but it suddenly struck you that if she happened to be of a prying nature she might have come across the sheath in the course of her cleaning duties and put two and two together.’

  ‘Really, Sergeant,’ said Pollard angrily, ‘all this is pure supposition on your part.’

  ‘If you will allow me to finish I think I can show beyond any reasonable doubt that it is the only possible explanation of the woman’s reluctance to enter your client’s flat on that particular day. Or perhaps,’ he turned back to Ellerman, ‘you can offer another reason. Have you perhaps made unwelcome advances to her?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ said Ellerman indignantly.

  ‘So we have to think of an alternative explanation, which I put it to you is this: even if she had not found the sheath, this report would have reminded her where she saw the actual knife, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Sergeant Rathbone, once again I must object to this line of questioning,’ Pollard interrupted a second time before Ellerman had a chance to reply. ‘You have not produced a shred of evidence that my client murdered Fenella Tremaine, neither can you even be certain that the woman whose body was found yesterday on Fiddler’s Patch and the woman who cleans my client’s flat are one and same. People disappear every day for a variety of reasons.’ He turned to Ellerman. ‘I advise you not to answer that question.’

  ‘Well, Doctor Ellerman?’ said Rathbone, ignoring the interruption.

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘All right, let me ask you another question. What was your reason for coming home at lunchtime on Wednesday, contrary to your normal practice?’

  ‘I’ve already given you the reason.’

  ‘That was while we were in your flat, so repeat it for the tape, please.’

  Ellerman affected exasperation by taking a deep breath and rolling his eyes upwards. ‘All right, I’d been working in my spare time for a couple of weeks on research into a small company that I thought Anton Maxworth might be interested in taking over. I’d almost finished but I was anxious to get it out of the way. Things were quiet that particular morning so I decided to take my lunch hour at home and try to get it off my back.’

  ‘Is that the reason you gave your PA or any of your colleagues for unexpectedly leaving the office in the middle of the day?’

  ‘I’m not the office boy and I don’t have to account for my every movement,’ Ellerman retorted. ‘I told her I was going out and would be back after lunch to deal with anything that cropped up in my absence.’

  ‘Was Mr Maxworth aware of what you were doing?’

  ‘No. I didn’t see the point of mentioning it until I was ready to put the idea before him.’

  ‘Doctor Ellerman,’ said Rathbone, ‘I put it to you that the reason you have just given me for returning home at lunchtime on Wednesday is a completely spurious one. Your real motive was to confront the woman who, you feared, might have seen this report –’ he made stabbing movements with the newspaper in Ellerman’s direction – ‘and so be in a position to give evidence which could prove that you were Fenella Tremaine’s killer. It was a risk you couldn’t afford to take so you invented an excuse to leave the office and return home.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Ellerman shouted. It was his turn to bang a fist on the table.

  ‘You were there when she arrived,’ Rathbone pursued. ‘She was already apprehensive about coming to your flat but, being fairly confident that you would be at work as usual, she was prepared to take the risk – probably because she needed the money and could not afford to lose her job. I can imagine her ­reaction when she saw you there. She must have been terrified . . . her worst fears were realized . . . no doubt she screamed and tried to run from the flat . . . but you didn’t dare let her go because she knew too much . . . you had to silence her . . . and so you strangled her and later disposed of her body on Fiddler’s Patch.’

  ‘No!’ Ellerman leapt to his feet; the uniformed officer standing on guard behind him moved forward to restrain him, but Pollard intervened by putting a hand on his arm. Reluctantly, Ellerman sat down, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. ‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘So tell me how it was,’ said Rathbone, ‘and try telling the truth for a change.’

  ‘I need to use the toilet first.’ Rathbone nodded to the uniformed officer, who escorted Ellerman out of the room.

  As soon as they returned Pollard said, ‘Sergeant Rathbone, before we go any further I wish to confer with my client. May I also remind you that my client has had very little to eat this morning and he is still feeling slightly unwell. I therefore request a break from questioning so that he may take a rest and have some nourishment.’

  ‘Very well, Mr Pollard,’ said Rathbone. ‘Interview suspended at twelve o’clock.’ He switched off the tape. ‘We’ll resume questioning your client in three hours’ time.’ He left the room, accompanied by Sukey and Vicky.

  ‘He’s going to be a tough nut to crack, by the looks of it,’ said DCI Leach after he had listened to Rathbone’s report. ‘Uniformed are going over his flat with a tooth comb,’ he went on. ‘So far, none of the shoes they found appear to match the impression taken from the crime scene, but he takes the same size so he probably disposed of the ones he was wearing the day he killed the cleaner. We’ve got his toothbrush and one or two other personal items for DNA samples to be compared with DNA taken from the dead woman. It’ll take time for the results to come through, of course – the Super will no doubt put in the usual request for fast-tracking – so if we can’t get a confession out of him within a reasonable time we’ll simply have to bail him again.’

  ‘We’re doing our best, sir,’ said Rathbone. ‘We know from past experience that Pollard’s a wily old bird and given half a chance he’ll play the sympathy card – accuse us of bullying a sick man.’

  ‘Sick?’ queried Leach.

  ‘He was well and truly hung-over, sir,’ said Sukey.

  ‘H
e had to go to the loo to throw up,’ Vicky added, ‘and then used body language in an attempt to rouse sympathy.’ She gave an impromptu impression, to which Leach responded with a slightly raised eyebrow. ‘It was really quite funny, sir.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t let your amusement show, or that would give him another excuse to have a go at us,’ said Rathbone in some alarm.

  ‘It’s all right Sarge, we did keep our faces straight,’ Sukey assured him.

  ‘DS Rathbone has a point so just be on your guard, all of you,’ said Leach. ‘Now, we have to do everything possible to contact the dead woman’s relatives. I’ve spoken to Doc Handley and an actual mug shot, even after she’s been cleaned up, might be distressing, so I’m sending an artist round to the morgue to produce a recognizable impression without showing the effects of decomposition. That should be ready to release tomorrow, so I’ll talk to the press in the morning and bring them up to speed. And naturally we’ll ask them to publicize our appeal for anyone who can help with ID to come forward.’ He turned to Rathbone. ‘Make sure you get more details from him of his so-called project . . . the name of the company he’s claiming Maxworth’s might be interested in and what work he’s done on it. It’s possible that’s something he’s dreamed up on the spur of the moment to account for coming home during the day. And send a couple of your DCs to check whether he’s telling the truth about leaving the office without explanation on Wednesday.’

  Rathbone made a note. ‘Will do, sir.’

  ‘I’ve arranged for one of our whiz-kids to check his computer.’ Leach glanced at his watch. ‘You’d better go and grab some lunch before you tackle Ellerman again.’

  ‘D’you reckon he did it?’ said Vicky as she and Sukey sat down to a sandwich lunch in the canteen.

  ‘It’s funny you should ask,’ said Sukey. ‘Common sense and logic tell me that having eliminated Carla Seaton from suspicion of committing the two previous murders – which was a pretty long shot anyway – Ellerman is the only one with motive and opportunity. I feel as if we’re in a dark room and pressing all the right buttons but the lights won’t come on.’