‘You’re right.’ Vicky bit into her tuna sandwich and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. ‘But if he didn’t do it, who did? We’ve interviewed scores of witnesses and haven’t come across a single lead pointing to anyone else who might have a motive for killing Fenella Tremaine. We’re fairly confident that the Fiddler’s Patch victim is Aggie, but supposing she isn’t?’
‘In that case,’ said Sukey despondently, ‘we’re back to square one.’
TWENTY-FIVE
Despite being subjected to several more hours of questioning by successive teams of detectives, Ellerman refused to change his story. As there was no possibility of seeking further information either from his colleagues at Maxworth Engineering or from Mrs Shilling at the cleaning agency until their respective offices reopened on Monday morning, DCI Leach had no option other than to order that he be detained pending further enquiries. Jason Pollard put in a strong plea for bail, pleading that his client was unfit to spend a night in the cells and insisting on a doctor being summoned. After a considerable delay a somewhat disgruntled doctor appeared, examined Ellerman and said that in his opinion there was no medical reason why he should not remain in custody overnight. Pollard’s request was therefore refused and the team was told to go home and report for duty as usual the following morning.
It was a little after eight o’clock when Sukey returned home. She had been indoors barely ten minutes when Harry rang her bell. ‘I didn’t think it’d be long before you showed up,’ she said resignedly as she opened the door. ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’
‘Well, there’s a nice way to greet your beloved,’ he said reproachfully. He held her close for several moments before releasing her and saying, ‘What you need is a stiffener.’
‘Oh yes, please.’ She sank into an armchair and shut her eyes. ‘This case is an absolute nightmare; we’re ninety-nine per cent sure we’ve got our man but we haven’t been able to nail him yet. He’s as slippery as an eel; we’ve all been having a go at him in relays for several hours and getting nowhere. Thanks love,’ she added as he put a glass of wine into her hand and sat down beside her. ‘And now I suppose you’re going to try and winkle some extra information out of me. I wouldn’t bank on it . . . as it is I’ve already said too much.’
Harry chuckled. ‘Your problem is you just can’t resist my winning personality. Do I take it the slippery customer you’re referring to is Doctor Marcus Ellerman?’
‘No comment.’
‘All right. Let me tell you what I have found so far and you can fill in the blanks.’
‘In your dreams!’
‘We’ll see. Now, I and my fellow news-hounds already know that your people have, shall we say, shown a lot of interest in Marcus Ellerman ever since the discovery of Fenella Tremaine’s body. No, we haven’t had any leaks and my editor would cut off his right arm rather than pay for info,’ he assured her as she was about to interrupt. ‘Just the same, we do have a very effective bush telegraph and we’re pretty sure that your sergeant’s recent visits to Ellerman weren’t social calls.’ He broke off for a moment to take a generous mouthful from his own glass of wine. ‘Right, fast forward to yesterday afternoon when a woman’s body – as yet unidentified so far as we know – is found on a patch of waste ground not much more than a mile from where Ellerman lives. Am I right so far?’
‘Since the media flew to the scene like wasps to a picnic there’s no point in denying it,’ Sukey admitted. ‘I take it you were there?’
‘I’m asking the questions. What about the ID or lack of it?’
‘I suppose there’s no harm in answering that,’ she said after a moment’s thought. ‘A description of the dead woman will be given at tomorrow’s press briefing and you’ll all be asked to appeal for information from anyone who thinks they may know her identity. An artist’s impression will be circulated as soon as it’s been made.’
‘No mug shot; I imagine that means the face has been beaten to a pulp or she’s started to decompose,’ said Harry.
‘No comment,’ said Sukey. ‘Look, I’ve just said you’ll get more information first thing tomorrow. Can’t you wait till then?’
‘I haven’t finished telling you what I already know,’ said Harry.
‘All right, clever clogs; get on with it.’
‘You think the dead woman is Marcus Ellerman’s cleaning lady who hasn’t been seen since she went to his flat as usual on Wednesday. He was there at the time, contrary to his usual practice, and he’s been at HQ all day helping with your enquiries into her disappearance.’ He could not resist a smirk of triumph at Sukey’s look of mingled astonishment and dismay, at which she gave him a thump on his free arm.
‘How the hell did you figure that out without inside info?’
‘Easy – I followed a hunch and went round to Sycamore Park after leaving Fiddler’s Patch. It was pretty obvious something was afoot, what with CSIs going in followed by uniformed making off with a load of stuff including a laptop – Ellerman’s no doubt since there is now a seal on his flat – and curious onlookers hanging around gawping and chattering. They were falling over themselves to tell me what one of the residents had seen from her window. The neighbourhood watch network at Sycamore Park is pretty slick, I can tell you.’
‘Let’s hope they’ll be as helpful in getting an ID for the Fiddler’s Patch victim,’ said Sukey. She drained her glass and held it out for a refill.
‘Oh, I’m sure they’ll be a great help,’ he said as he topped up both their drinks. ‘By the way, has Ellerman been freed on bail or banged up for the night? The Echo has a reporter hanging about outside HQ and he’d like to know so he can go home.’
‘I’m afraid he’ll just have to hang about . . . and I wish it was a snowy night in winter instead of mid-August,’ said Sukey with feeling.
‘You hard-hearted woman. What happened to the milk of human kindness?’
‘It’s curdled . . . and I’m not saying another word – except that I’m ready for some food.’
‘Me too. Why don’t I go out for some fish and chips? Or would you rather have a pizza?’
‘Fish and chips please.’
On Monday morning, as soon as the press briefing was over, the team were given their orders for the day. In view of Ellerman’s intransigence DCI Leach decided to lead the first session of questioning himself, with Rathbone’s support and DC Penny Osborne sitting in to observe. DCs Mike Haskins and Tim Pringle were sent to the Clean as a Whistle agency in search of further information about Aggie, while Sukey and Vicky were instructed to go to Maxworth Engineering and interview Ellerman’s PA.
On returning to headquarters at lunchtime the team were once again summoned to DCI Leach’s office. ‘You will not be entirely surprised,’ he began, ‘that we have been unable to shake Ellerman; DS Rathbone and I did our best to trip him up, but we got nowhere. He insists that on arriving home on Wednesday he merely exchanged a couple of words with “the girl” and went straight to his study to work on his project. He’s already agreed that she seemed what he called “a bit jumpy” when he walked in, but simply put it down to the fact that she was surprised to see him. So,’ Leach continued wearily, ‘unless any of you have come up with something to justify applying for an extension, we’ll have to bail him again. It seems our only hope at the moment is for his DNA to be found on the woman’s body or clothing, but barring a miracle it will be days or even weeks before we get a result. Tim and Mike, I’ll start with you. How much was Mrs Shilling able to tell you about Aggie?’
‘Quite a lot, sir,’ said Mike. ‘She was a bit cagey at first and waffled on about confidentiality as if she was Aggie’s lawyer, but when we told her why we needed the information and gave her a description of the Fiddler’s Patch victim she was horrified and only too willing to help us in any way she could.’
‘You think she recognized Aggie from the description?’
‘Undoubtedly, sir. Her full name is Aghami Hussein; she’s been working for Clean as a Wh
istle for about three months and all the clients speak very highly of her. She told Mrs Shilling when she signed on that she didn’t want any of her family – or the police – to know where she was, which explains why Mrs Shilling hesitated at first about giving us any more information.’
‘So I take it she went ahead and answered all your questions?’
‘Yes, sir. She began by confirming that Aggie didn’t have any more jobs after she’d finished at Ellerman’s flat so she assumed she’d gone home. When a client rang on Thursday morning to complain that she hadn’t turned up Mrs Shilling thought she must be ill as she’d never missed a job before. It wasn’t until the same thing happened on Friday that she became concerned; she called Aggie on her mobile but there was no answer.’
‘If she was so concerned, why didn’t she say so when you went to see her on Saturday?’
‘It’s a quite complicated – and all too common, I understand – situation among some immigrant families, sir. Aggie comes from a Muslim family who settled in this country – quite legally, it appears – when Aggie was about twelve. She went to the local comprehensive school where she made friends with a girl from a Catholic family and secretly became a Christian, but of course didn’t dare tell her own family. When she was fourteen her father told her he’d arranged for her to marry his cousin, a very wealthy man much older than her. She didn’t dare defy her father, but she was revolted by the idea because she knew the man and found him repulsive. The next day at school she told her friend and begged her for help. The friend told her own parents; knowing that forced marriages are illegal in this country they wanted to contact Social Services in the hope that they could arrange for her to be taken to a women’s refuge, but she was terrified at the suggestion; she had brothers who were strict Muslims and would, she knew, be determined to seek her out and force her to return home. And if they knew she’d become a Christian she was certain they would kill her.’
‘Where was the family living at the time?’ asked DCI Leach.
‘Mrs Shilling isn’t sure, but she seems to remember hearing her mention Hackney.’
‘Hackney – that’s in East London.’ Leach made a note. ‘That’s a useful starting point for tracing her family.’ He turned to DS Rathbone. ‘Get one of your team to send her details to the local police, Greg.’
‘Will do, sir.’
‘Presumably she was at school in the area. How come she ended up in Bristol?’
‘It seems she was desperate to get away from London to be out of the reach of her family, sir,’ said Tim. ‘Her friend’s parents had relatives in Bedminster – a Mr and Mrs Franklin – and they arranged for her to stay with them for a while. Happily they took to one another straight away – the Franklins had no children of their own and she filled a gap in their lives. They found a place for her at a local school and eventually they offered her a permanent home.’
‘As she was a minor they should have informed us, but I suppose she managed to persuade them not to,’ Leach remarked. ‘How long did she live with them?’
‘Until she left school, sir.’
‘How old was she then?’
‘Just turned eighteen. It seems she was hoping to go to university but Mr Franklin, an engineer with a company making water treatment equipment, was unexpectedly moved to an overseas job and she was suddenly faced with the prospect of losing her home. The Franklins were very good to her; they helped her find somewhere to live and gave her some money. According to what she told Mrs Shilling she used to help with all the domestic chores and it was Mrs Franklin’s idea that she should look for work as a cleaner and study part time to get some kind of qualification. We’ve checked a few local adult education colleges but we haven’t come up with anything in that direction so far.’
‘She seems to have been very frank with Mrs Shilling,’ Leach commented.
‘She was obviously pretty low when she applied for the job, sir, and was probably desperate for someone to confide in. Underneath her no-nonsense, businesslike manner, Mrs Shilling struck us as a very kind, sympathetic human being. She showed us the letter Mrs Franklin had written testifying to Aggie’s honesty and reliability as a cleaner. It included the name of her doctor and a copy of her latest school report. Everything seems to be in order.’
‘She’s registered with a doctor eh?’ said Leach, his expression lightening for a moment. ‘That’s good news. He should be able to help us with an ID.’
‘Sorry sir, no luck there I’m afraid,’ said Mike. ‘She only saw a doctor once in all the time she lived with the Franklins and he died two years ago. No one else at the practice can even remember what she looked like.’
‘What about the Job Centre? Presumably she signed on when she was looking for work. Did she have a National Insurance number?’
‘Everything’s in order, sir. She knew where her father kept her passport and somehow managed to get hold of it. She actually showed it to Mrs Shilling as proof of her ID.’
Leach nodded. ‘There was no passport in her flat and her handbag is missing so it’s probably in that along with her purse and her mobile.’
‘Yes, it’d be a great help if that turned up,’ Leach remarked. ‘You mentioned in a previous report that Aggie caught a bus from outside Holmwood to her next job. Did you check on that?’
‘I did, sir,’ said Tim. ‘It’s route four-oh-two. We’ve contacted the bus company and asked them to check if any of the drivers noticed a woman answering Aggie’s description travelling on their bus around one thirty on Wednesday.’
Leach nodded. ‘Well, at least we have a clearer picture of Aggie’s background, although I don’t see that it does much to strengthen our case against Ellerman. Sukey and Vicky, let’s hear from you.’
‘I’m afraid we aren’t going to be of much help either, sir,’ said Sukey. ‘We spoke to Ellerman’s PA, a Mrs Nuttall. She confirmed that Ellerman left his office a little after eleven on Wednesday morning, saying he might not be back but to call him on his mobile if anything urgent cropped up. He didn’t say where he was going, which didn’t surprise her.’
‘She was careful not to say anything critical about him,’ said Vicky. ‘However, she made it clear that the relationship between them is strictly a business one and that he neither volunteers, nor is she interested in, anything he does outside the office.’
‘You’re saying she thought he might have had some sort of assignation?’
‘That was our impression, sir.’
‘He does fancy himself as a ladies’ man,’ Rathbone remarked with a hint of mockery.
‘So she knew nothing about this so-called project he was supposed to be working on?’
‘No, sir,’ said Sukey, ‘but he did return to the office at about four, saying he needed to pick up some papers he’d left behind as he wanted to read them during the evening. We asked her if he seemed at all agitated, but she said he appeared perfectly normal.’
Leach thumped his desk with his fist in an uncharacteristic gesture of frustration. ‘Either the man’s completely without human feelings or . . . I hate to admit this, but I’m beginning to wonder if he’s telling the truth after all. The girl’s history has made me think . . . supposing her brothers had managed to track her down . . . found out where she lived and been lying in wait for her when she got home. Or maybe they’d been shadowing her, found an opportunity to grab her . . . bundle her into a car . . . she’d probably have put up a struggle and they accidentally strangled her while attempting to subdue her. We can’t be a hundred per cent sure that she never left Sycamore Park the day she went missing . . . not even the nosiest of neighbours spot everything.’
‘Surely, sir, someone would have noticed a couple of young men of Middle Eastern appearance hanging around near Aggie’s flat?’ said Rathbone.
‘They could have found the route she regularly took home and chosen the time and place carefully, Greg. Get your team to find out everything they can relevant to Aggie’s regular movements.’
‘Wi
ll do, sir.’
‘Meanwhile,’ Leach went on, ‘there’s some stuff from Ellerman’s flat to go through. The techies have hacked into his laptop, so you’ll have to trawl through everything on there. You might find something to help us get into his head.’
‘You think he might keep a diary, sir?’ said Mike.
‘That’s for you to find out. Uniformed also brought out a carved wooden box that was tucked away at the back of a cupboard. It looks Indian – probably another bit of kitsch that his wife insisted on buying. They think there’s something inside it but they haven’t been able to open it. There must be a secret catch somewhere – one of you should be able to find it.’ Leach made a few notes and closed his folder. ‘Right, that’s it for now.’
TWENTY-SIX
‘I’ve seen these things before,’ said Vicky as she examined the elaborately carved wooden box that Rathbone handed over.
‘So see if you can get into it,’ he said curtly.
‘I’ll do my best, Sarge.’ He gave a dismissive grunt and strode over to the drinks machine. ‘I do believe this case is getting him down; he seems to be on an even shorter fuse than usual,’ Vicky commented with a nod in his direction. ‘I have a feeling,’ she went on, turning her attention back to the box, ‘that you have to slide this bit one way . . . or maybe the other . . . no, perhaps it’s this bit . . . ah, that’s it . . . and then press something . . . voilà!’ There was a faint click as the lid sprang open. ‘Right, what have we here?’
‘A bunch of dried rosemary,’ said Sukey, peering over Vicky’s shoulder. ‘For remembrance,’ she said softly. ‘What else?’
‘Picture postcards,’ Vicky lifted out the items while she spoke and passed them one by one to Sukey. ‘The Colosseum . . . the Eiffel Tower . . . the Brandenburg Gate. Nothing written on them except dates so I suppose she bought them as keepsakes in places they’d been to.’
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