by Wonny Lea
This time the howls of surreal laughter came from the man holding the gun, and he lost no time in telling his wife that his affairs had started less than a month after he had found himself married to a prude of the first order. When he had discovered that she could not even bear him the son he wanted, of course he had taken a mistress. Lefevre could see that these revelations were hurting Charlotte much more than her knowledge of any of the other crimes he had committed – and so, cruelly, he continued.
Under normal circumstances Martin would just have been embarrassed to hear some of the details that were being described but now he found himself hoping that the extramarital flings had been many and varied and that Monsieur Lefevre was going to give them a blow-by-blow account. Not that he wanted to know the sordid details – he just wanted to kill time and hopefully avoid anyone else being killed.
The insults had now come around to the role that Mrs Mansfield had played in their lives, and it was clear that she had been seen by both of them as nothing more than a cheque-book. It seemed as if this was something on which the couple agreed but then Frederick Lefevre put the final nail in the coffin that was a fitting image of the couple’s pseudo-marriage.
He told his wife how, every time he looked at her mother, he saw a physically crippled old woman who felt pain at just the touch of another human being and he could see Charlotte heading fast in that direction.
‘At least your mother produced one child,’ he said. ‘One more than you could manage, and you always knew how much I wanted a son.’
It was then the final bombshell was delivered and he laughed as he spoke the words. ‘But don’t you worry your pretty little head on that score – I haven’t just got the one son you denied me – I have two sons!’
At that moment, and simultaneously, both Martin and Frederick Lefevre saw three men pointing guns in their direction. There was an ear-piercing noise as a single bullet was fired.
Martin didn’t need to check on Matt or Charlotte Lefevre to see if they were alright and he also knew that none of Lieutenant Beaumont’s men had been responsible for the gunfire. He knew because he had watched, unable to move, as Lefevre had taken a single step backwards before inserting the barrel of the gun inside his mouth and pulling the trigger.
Unlike the images often seen on film screens, Lefevre’s body did not contort or twitch but just dropped like a stone. Whatever had been blown through the back of his head had been spread over the hydrangea macrophylla, and it was ironic that the last thoughts of Monsieur Lefevre were now covering the white and pinkish white blooms of a variety known as the ‘blushing bride’.
For what seemed like an eternity, but was probably just seconds, no one moved, but then the two men who had arrived with Beaumont moved towards the body.
Martin looked at Charlotte, who was sitting with her head resting on her hands and staring at the place where her husband had been standing. He was about to suggest they go inside when Madame Sheldon stepped in. ‘I will take Madame to her room if that is permissible,’ she said. ‘There is nothing either of us can do here, and you gentlemen will have things to sort out. Madame will undoubtedly like some tea, and I will make some strong coffee for the rest of us – it will be in the kitchen whenever you are ready.’
As Madame Sheldon took her mistress’s arm and guided her towards the house, Martin marvelled at the composure of the housekeeper. Matt must have been doing the same. ‘Now that’s what I call being calm under pressure,’ he remarked. ‘Charlotte Lefevre is lucky to have her around.’
‘Perhaps we are all lucky to have her around,’ suggested Lieutenant Beaumont. ‘It was she who alerted us to the fact that Monsieur Lefevre was armed. Apparently she was bringing a telephone message out for Frederick Lefevre when she saw the gun, and she told us that she had got back to the house without anyone seeing her.’
‘I saw her,’ responded Martin. ‘I hoped she would get in touch with the police, but as time went on I wasn’t really sure what she had done.’
The men spent the next few minutes formally introducing themselves and then Matt wandered over to where his opposite numbers were looking at Lefevre’s body. It was a strange feeling for Martin and Matt to stand back and watch others make the necessary arrangements with the various criminal investigation departments, but that was what they had to do.
‘What exactly happened after you got Madame Sheldon’s call?’ asked Martin.
‘I suggest we all go inside and make good use of the coffee she has made,’ said Lieutenant Jules Beaumont. ‘We both have information that needs to be shared.’
Moments later the five men sat around the kitchen table and Martin explained the events that had brought himself and Matt to France. As the two officers with Jules Beaumont understood very little English some translation was needed, and Martin and Jules, now on first name terms, shared the task.
It seemed somewhat unnatural that they were all sitting around sharing coffee in the home of a man who had, to use a common expression, just ‘blown his brains out’. Martin explained about the body that had been found in Coopers Field and about how closely it matched the description of a missing person, namely Daphne Mansfield, Madame Lefevre’s mother. He asked Jules what he would have thought if he discovered the DNA from the body did not match the DNA they knew had been taken from Daphne Mansfield’s hair brush.
‘I would have said the body could not possibly be Madame Mansfield,’ he answered. ‘So what made you pursue that line of enquiry?’
‘It was the grit and determination of Miss Elsie Forrester – Daphne Mansfield’s sister. She is over eighty years of age, and she recently travelled all the way to the Maison de Retraite to find out for herself how her sister was faring.’ Martin went on to explain how on her return Miss Forrester had made arrangements to bring her sister back to Cardiff. He related how Elsie had been able to totally convince him that under no circumstances would Daphne have gone back to France of her own free will.
‘Sorry,’ said Jules. ‘You’ve lost me. So where is this woman now? She can’t be your body if her DNA is not a match!’
Martin smiled and related what Madame Lefevre had told him about the hairbrush.
‘That’s one for the books,’ was Jules reply. ‘It’s a good job you have understanding senior officers. I can’t see one of our lot letting me and one of my juniors go to England on the basis of something an old woman believed.’
Both Martin and Matt laughed at this as they envisaged the fit Superintendent Bryant would have had when he had read their retrospective request for travel. Hopefully they would be vindicated by the outcome of their journey.
‘You were going to tell me what happened when you got the call from Madame Sheldon,’ Martin reminded Jules.
‘Yes, we were on our way here anyway as you know, but we stopped when we heard Lefevre was armed, figuring the sound of an approaching car could force his hand and possibly result in a bloodbath. So we walked from the nearest crossroads and came through the side entrance of the house – aided by Madame Sheldon.’
‘I was sure I heard an approaching car at one point,’ said Martin. ‘At the time I was disappointed that it stopped, but now I appreciate your actions.’
‘To be honest,’ continued Jules. ‘I would have been surprised if Lefevre had turned the gun on you. The action I anticipated was him shooting his wife and then turning the gun on himself, and I still think that would have happened if he hadn’t spotted us and reacted instinctively.’
All the men nodded their heads – even the two who did not fully comprehend the conversation.
‘Where do we go from here?’ asked Martin. ‘I guess the only thing we will want Madame Lefevre for is in relation to her conspiracy to pervert the cause of justice. If we were in the UK I would arrest her on that basis however in light of all that has happened and especially the suicide of her husband, there would be no problem with her being granted bail pending a trial.’
However we are not in the UK and your system may well
have a different way of dealing with this scenario.’
‘I think we will do best if we treat this situation as two separate but related events,’ suggested Jules. ‘We will deal with the suicide of Frederick Lefevre, and when you get back to Cardiff you can set in motion the necessary arrangements to deal with Madame Lefevre. I don’t think we will be locking her up, as I can’t see her going anywhere, and hopefully the bailiffs will leave her enough to live on.’
‘Yes,’ replied Martin. ‘If her husband had life insurance it may well be null and void depending on the small print relating to suicide, and I don’t know how your French law works regarding a wife’s responsibility for her husband’s debts.’
‘It’s complicated in the extreme,’ was the reply.
‘Can’t be as convoluted as our Proceeds of Crime Act 2002,’ said Martin. ‘If Madame Lefevre is implicated in the death of her mother, she may not be able to inherit any of her mother’s assets even if they have been willed to her. There is also the issue of the two sons he mentioned. The woman is left in a real mess, isn’t she?’
‘I can’t believe you’re feeling even a modicum of sympathy for that woman,’ exclaimed Matt. ‘I still can’t get over her saying that she found the dumping of her mother’s body in Coopers Field quite exciting – I was horrified when she said that. If there is anyone that has my sympathy, it’s Madame Sheldon. If the house has to be sold to pay off debts, or whatever, then she’ll lose her home too.’
‘Well, thankfully, those things are not for us to sort out – and on that subject, is there anything else we have to do before leaving?’ asked Martin.
‘Nothing at all,’ was the reply from Lieutenant Beaumont. ‘Do you plan making the journey back today, or getting an overnight stay and going back in the morning?’
Martin checked his watch – he had still not physically made the time adjustment and although it was only a question of adding an hour to the time his watch was showing he could not quite believe that it was only 4.35 p.m. French time. He checked with Matt.
Matt agreed the time and thinking along the same lines as his boss added. ‘It seems unbelievable that it is only just over one and a half hours since we pulled up outside this house. So much has happened and I must admit there was a time when I wondered if we would be leaving feet first. No offence, Jules, but I was born in Wales and that’s where I want to die – though not just yet.’
They all laughed and Martin looked up from searching the internet on his iPhone. ‘There’s a ferry tonight – in fact there are two. Both go from Cherbourg, but not to Poole – they go to Portsmouth. It means a different route home, but not much difference in either the crossing time or the journey in the UK. Only problem is, will we make it to the ferry in time?’
‘What are the departure times?’ asked Matt.
‘First one leaves at a quarter to eight and the next at a quarter past. It took us about three and a half hours to get here, so if it takes the same time to get back we should get to the ferry port around eight o’clock. So the first ferry is out of the question, and we’ll only make the second one if the traffic allows. What do you think?’
‘I’d like to give it a try,’ replied Matt. ‘We could crash out on the ferry, and then be in the UK before 10 p.m. and home in the early hours – it’s worth a go, isn’t it?’
Lieutenant Beaumont had been listening to the conversation and suggested they get moving, as the traffic around Nantes would soon be at a peak. ‘I will make an official call through to the ferry company and ensure that the 20.15 crossing from Cherbourg to Portsmouth does not move from the port until Detective Chief Inspector Phelps and Detective Sergeant Pryor are on board,’ he added.
No one knew if this order would have any bearing on the departure time, but it would be worth a shot and they made their way to Martin’s car.
‘Please say goodbye and give our thanks to Madame Sheldon,’ said Martin. ‘We are very grateful for all the help you have given us, and especially for the spirit in which it has been given. If there is anything we can ever do for you …’
The words had barely left Martin’s mouth when Jules pounced on them. ‘The next time Wales plays France in the Six Nations in the Millennium Stadium I will expect some tickets – preferably with some hospitality attached.’
This time it was Matt who responded, echoing the words previously spoken by Jules.
‘Consider it sorted!’
Chapter Fifteen
Enid Next?
Sarah dragged herself out of bed, wishing she had never got back in it after she had made herself that cup of tea earlier. She would have been better without sleep rather than suffering the effects of the dozing, dreaming, and tossing and turning she had endured for the past couple of hours. A brisk shower now and lots of coffee during the day would see her through, and then she had four days off work to look forward to.
Without a doubt she would normally be looking forward to her days off and she had agreed to visit one of her ex-workmates in Bristol on Saturday. If that went the way it usually did it would be a laugh a minute, and the sort of therapy Sarah felt she needed, but her heart wasn’t in it at the moment and she could think of nothing else other than the possible fate of Mrs Enid Prosser.
She drew back the blue check curtains in her kitchen and saw the promise of a warm sunny day but not even this lifted her spirits. Please let me be wrong about all this she told herself – all these premature deaths – it’s like something out of a crime novel, not anything to do with real life.
Sarah had left two messages using the number DS Pryor had given her, but he hadn’t come back to her yet and she was reluctant to call again. He probably thought she had an overactive imagination and had decided there was not enough substance in her concerns to warrant police intervention. Unfortunately for Sarah he had asked her to take a look at something and now she couldn’t get it out of her mind and the more she looked the more questions raised their heads – all requiring answers.
Regardless of whether or not the police thought an investigation was needed, Sarah had reached the point where she was not prepared to do nothing. She planned to get a proper look at Enid Prosser’s medical record and read the note Dr Shaw had made regarding Enid not wanting to be admitted to hospital.
Sarah thought it would also be useful for her to check a couple more of the existing residents’ notes just in case this was something he wrote in everyone’s records. Sarah could not think of any possible reason why this should be and in fact she then remembered that Mavis Edwards had actually been admitted to hospital two days ago – so there was obviously nothing in that resident’s record.
For the past two days Sarah had taken a different route to work because she hadn’t wanted to pass the spot where the body had been found. Today she followed the steps she had taken on Monday morning, and tried to see the beauty of the surroundings rather than imagine the horror of what had been found there. The trees and flowers were truly magnificent, and normally walking through Bute Park before 7 a.m. would be a fairly solitary experience, but today there was something of a bustle.
Preparations were already underway for a day of celebrations, planned to mark the awarding of yet another Green Flag for the area. Who would have thought, when the body had been discovered in the miserable drizzle of Monday morning, that by the start of Thursday the place would have lost its ghost and would be displaying such glorious shapes and vibrant colours?
She wondered if Matt and his DCI had made any progress with discovering the identity of the woman, and if that had led to them finding out who had murdered her. What a job, she thought, it must make you suspicious of everyone – a bit like I am at the moment. Then she thought about the peculiarities of chain reactions and the what-ifs associated with them. What if she hadn’t been on duty on Monday morning – what if she hadn’t stopped to help with the woman who had found the body? Those two things had led to Sergeant Evans, with his nose for trouble, visiting Parkland to take a statement from her – but then
again, what if Mr and Mrs Morris had not been around when the police had visited?
Was it a question of ignorance really being bliss or was there some unknown phenomenon at work – and was it creating an opportunity for the forces of evil to be discovered?
It really was a one-thing-leads-to-another situation, and what worried Sarah at that moment was where it was leading her. All she knew was that she would not be finishing her shift today before she was absolutely certain that Enid Prosser was not at risk. If that meant rattling a few cages, then so be it. She had a professional duty of care to all the residents, and so what if it turned out that she had misread the whole situation – better for her to look a fool than for Enid to meet an untimely death.
As she reached the drive to the nursing home Sarah wished, once again, that Matt would answer her call, but of course she was unaware that at that moment he was not answering anyone’s messages – he was sound asleep!
He had been dropped off by DCI Phelps at twenty past one in the morning, and it had taken hours before sleep arrived but now he was well and truly out of it and unlikely to stir any time soon.
Sister Grey was waiting for Sarah, and jokingly asked her what the body count had been on the way to work today. Sarah didn’t respond to her colleague’s dubious humour and instead asked a question of her own. ‘How is Enid – Enid Prosser, is she alright?’
Eva looked puzzled. ‘Enid Prosser?’ she questioned. ‘As far as I know she’s fine, at least she was when I did a round earlier, but I didn’t wake her. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, no reason really,’ Sarah answered quickly. ‘For some reason she was on my mind earlier.’
‘She is on the mind of quite a few of our elderly gentlemen,’ responded Eva. ‘You’ll never guess what she had them all doing last night – playing charades! Enid got Patsy, one of our new care assistants, to bring that trunk from her room down to the residents’ sitting room. There were wigs, masks, costume jewellery, and all sorts of dressing-up clothes in the trunk and they all had a whale of a time. It wasn’t just the men who joined in, and it was way past most of the residents’ normal bedtime before everything was packed away.
