by John Eider
Superintendent Rose was a boss his investigative Inspector could get on with just so long as he took for granted that they each saw the job they both loved from utterly opposite directions. He had been a serving policeman himself before his promotions, yet the burdens of office denied him taking his officer’s part while also giving him a whole other set of things to worry about. These worries could come over as grouchiness; though thankfully something in the Superintendent’s nature meant that Grey knew never to take it personally, and so the pair of them got on fine.
‘We could have done with you there a bit earlier,’ the Superintendent mused.
‘Well we were out of town when the call came, and didn’t even know it was an emergency until we got here.’
‘A scene like that needs taking charge of.’
‘We’re on top of it, sir.’
‘Well make sure you don’t miss anything trying to catch up.’
‘Everything’s in hand.’
‘Is it? It doesn’t sound like you know what’s been happening there yet.’ (They had already been talking for fifteen minutes.)
‘There’s nothing obvious left for us to find – this isn’t an accident or a robbery gone wrong.’
‘Can’t be helped, I suppose. You’ll be there for the day now? And you’re sure it’s murder?’
‘As clear a set of finger bruises as I’ve seen, and big hands too. He didn’t give her a chance to get free.’
‘At an old people’s home – I ask you.’
The Superintendent’s enduring simple shock at the horror of crime was one of his best features, Grey considered.
‘A big man, strong grip… so does that rule out the residents? Could any of them have it in them?’
‘I haven’t seen them yet.’
‘Then get on to it! And give me an update later, call the house.’
‘Will do.’
As it turned out Grey had no worry over finding his own way to the dayroom, he being met at the foot of the stairs by a man of an age Grey guessed qualified him as a resident,
‘Hello, you must be the man in charge. I’m Derek Waldron, I’m on the first floor. So is it true, what’s being said, that Stella was killed?’
‘Hello. Inspector Rase.’ They shook. ‘It’s all far too early to say for certain. Now I must go and speak to my Sergeant.’
‘Oh, she’s in the dayroom where they’re taking the statements.’
‘You’ve given yours?’
‘Yes.’
‘First floor, you say? Was it you who saw the girl on the stairs?’
‘Yes, it was me. She was one of Stella’s students, though here far too late.’
‘How clearly did you see her?’
‘As clearly as I see you now – I was standing at my door, which is the one nearest the stairs on that floor.’
‘And you’ve put this in your statement?’
‘Yes… but there’s so much more that needs saying, isn’t there.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Who Stella was, what she was like. I don’t want that to be forgotten, for her to be just another listed crime.’
‘I can assure you that that won’t happen; and that Ms Dunbar’s background is precisely what I do need to know, and what I need to find your Duty Manager to ask her about.’
But again the man was ahead of him, ‘I really don’t know if now is the best time to be troubling her, Inspector.’ The man smiled in a way that didn’t seem inappropriate, ‘I don’t know what they saw up there this morning, she and Charlie, but I’ve never seen her so rattled. You know she and Stella were very close. She came back down just now after showing you up there and knocked a cup over, then ran to the kitchen with the pieces – I knew she was crying, and that’s quite unlike her.’
‘She seemed very together to me – I wouldn’t have let her take us back up there otherwise.’
‘And you buy that, do you, in your job, every time someone tells you they’re fine?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘It’s not your fault. Rachel’s a very competent woman doing a difficult job. We say goodbye to a friend a year here. The rest of us can step back, be sad in our own way; but she has to manage things, deal with the families.’
‘I understand.’
‘All I’m suggesting is that you let me tell you anything you need to know this minute, and spare poor Rachel the ordeal. I’ve been here as long as Stella had, and am an original member of the Trust; the only one surviving I’ve just realised.’
But the man’s sad reflection didn’t daunt him for long, ‘Believe me, Inspector, there really isn’t a thing about this place I couldn’t tell you as well as anyone. We can talk in here,’ he said, pointing to an open ground floor door.
Calling to a passing colleague that this was where he’d be if anyone needed him, Grey followed the man inside.
‘Come on in. Rachel won’t mind us using her office, I’m sure,’ said Derek Waldron leading the Inspector through into what the latter wondered wouldn’t be better described as her flat, the desk and filing cabinets taking up half of the equivalent space of Stella’s dining table. Grey could even see a basket of the poor woman’s washing,
‘This is one of the flats?’ asked Grey. ‘Rachel Sowton lives here?’
‘An on-site warden is a condition of the agreement formed by the Trust. The place really wouldn’t run without her.’
They sat down at the desk, which had spare chairs beside it. No sooner had they settled than Waldron lamented,
‘It really is the worst thing you know, that pair being the ones to find her; especially Charlie, he’s so sensitive. Is it harsh of me to say that it would have been better for Rachel to have walked in there alone? Of course I’d put myself in either’s place any day. The way poor Charlie’s been carrying on, it was all we could do to calm him. Rachel had it worst, having to get him out of that apartment and downstairs before she could call the ambulance. Was the scene really very awful?’
‘They’re always bad enough.’
‘Do you get used to it?’
‘Not the worst of it, no.’
‘What would Charlie have seen?’
Grey tried to balance his description between what he could say, what would be upsetting in itself, and what was prosaic enough to at least clear up the most lurid of Waldron’s imaginings of what the discoverers were faced with,
‘They would have seen her lying there on the rug as they came in. No blood though, no mess; and it doesn’t seem as though they’d spotted the bruising on her neck then either. They would only have known the fact of her being dead, the scene itself held no other horror.’
‘“The fact of her being dead”, as if that wasn’t enough.’
The two men sat in silence a moment, but Grey had to press on,
‘I really will need to speak to Mr Prove also.’
‘Your Constables are already doing that, as well as talking to the other people who live here. Please let me spare him a second interview with yourself as I am for Rachel; before you speak to both of them in much better circumstances anon.’
Grey nodded, ‘He’s seeing a doctor?’
‘Yes, he came this morning.’
Grey would speak to him too.
‘You don’t think that the girls could be involved?’ Waldron asked suddenly.
‘Girls plural?’
‘The one who was here last night and her friend. Stella teaches them both. They loved her, you could see that. They would never do anything to hurt her.’
‘Do you have their names?’
‘No, I only see them, not speak to them.’
‘Do they have regular appointments? Do you see them on certain days?’
‘It’s hard to remember specific days, and they often arrive together or meet here afterward.’
‘You see them then?’
‘I see everyone walking along the drive from my window, hear them if the window’s open.’
‘Anyone last night after around eight?’<
br />
‘Oh, I’m afraid I had my curtains closed by then.’
‘But you did see someone inside the building. So why were you out of your room at ten o’clock?
‘A carton of milk – I like to make a cup of tea first thing, but noticed I’d none in my own kitchen, so…’
‘…you borrowed one from downstairs?’
‘There’s no need to look at me like that, we all pay to be here, and not a small amount either – the kitchens are communal.’
‘And you saw no one else?’
‘On the stairs, or anywhere?’
‘Anywhere.’
‘No, I don’t think I did.’
Holmesian logic time: ‘So, would you see everyone who went up or down the stairs?’
‘No – I only happened to be at my door at that moment.’
‘So it wasn’t that the girl was the only one on the staircase that evening, she just happened to be the only one you saw.’
‘Yes.’
‘What about footsteps – would you hear anyone going up or down?’
‘In the background maybe, but not that I’d notice.’
‘Even at ten, or later? Would the residents have gone to bed by then?’
‘Most of them around then possibly; but there could be Rachel or one of the nurses checking up on one of them at any hour.’
‘When you saw the girl, did she see you?’
‘Yes, I surprised her by being there. I came out the door just as she appeared on the landing.’
‘Description?’
‘Long dark hair, very pale.’
‘How did she seem?’
‘Startled, and a little sad maybe. I thought it might have just been me surprising her, but before I could apologise she was carrying on her way down. I thought I’d check with Stella at breakfast that everything was okay. Perhaps I should have gone straight up? I might have helped…’
‘So were you part of this breakfast meeting with Charlie Prove?’
‘There might not have been a meeting as such, we would often just see each other if we were down for breakfast.’
‘But you weren’t in the party that went looking for Stella?’
‘No. Truth be told, I only hoped she might have been down there; I wasn’t waiting at their table. If she and Charlie had arranged to meet then I know not what for.’
‘So did the pair of them often meet to talk privately?’
‘If they wanted to talk I let them.’
‘Let me put it another way: did they have anything private to talk about?’
‘Secrets between themselves, you mean? There was a connection but not in the way you may be inferring, Inspector. Charlie… had a very emotional life. Stella was kind of like his keeper, though in a totally non-possessive sense. Oh, I’m not explaining this well.’
‘Stella has no secrets now, Mr Waldron.’
‘It was she who brought him here originally: found him a flat, settled him in and introduced us all, took care to make him involved in everything going on here, for he was terribly shy when he arrived.’
‘So they knew each other before Cedars?’
‘Yes, but how well I couldn’t tell you.’
‘But enough to want to help him.’
‘Make no mistake, Inspector, there was emotional care going on. She obviously knew something of his former life.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Well, I know so little myself that I don’t know if saying it wouldn’t muddy the waters.’
‘Go on, we can sort out the details.’
‘He had a daughter who died, was killed I believe.’
‘Yes, that would do it.’
‘But it wasn’t just that: I think the daughter must have died on the estate they lived on, as Charlie couldn’t bear to go back there.’
Grey’s heart sank, ‘One of the Hills estates?’
The man nodded, ‘That’s half the reason Stella bought him here; and I’ve often wondered if she wasn’t paying at least some of his way, for I don’t imagine he’s ever been a rich man.’
‘When was all this?’
‘Not long after we’d formed the Trust, so maybe fifteen years ago?’
‘We can look into it.’ Grey made a mental note to set his support staff the task. ‘Meanwhile, I could do with learning a bit about your Trust.’
‘Well our solicitor, Mrs Rossiter, would be your woman there; but in principle, it’s formed by the residents for the residents.’
‘And how did it come about?’
‘Well, if you go back about, oh sixteen years now, several of those of us who owned flats back then found we were of similar ages. Some of us were getting on a bit, others would be in the not-too-distant future, and we found we wanted to have a bit more security. Some flats were standing empty, with young people looking to newer developments in town, and the place was beginning to feel its age a bit, so to speak. None of us wanted to leave for care homes in the future, you see, and so we spoke with the building’s owners, who were fine with our plans so long as no major structural work was done. We agreed to form a trust and each put in fifteen thousand pounds, and then another five thousand a year (more if the care they needed increased); which covered the deposit for a mortgage on two flats on the ground floor – always the first to empty, don’t you find? – and the salary for a permanent monitor-warden-duty manager, call them what you will, to mother us and be there any time of day and night. We also pay a woman to cook, and a couple of orderlies. We also built the dayroom at the back, which was our biggest success.’
‘So this is the first flat, and the second?’
‘That’s now a laundry and kitchen for those who can’t or don’t want to cook for themselves.’
‘So who runs things?’
‘The Trust, as a committee. Any resident can join informally, but the big decisions are taken by those who’ve been here over five years.’
‘And back at the start, were there any residents who didn’t want to join?’
‘A couple, yes, though it made no difference to them so long as they didn’t mind living among an ageing community.’
‘No noses put out of joint?’
‘No, in fact the last only left a couple of years back. You couldn’t meet a nicer fellow, he just didn’t want the engagement. He travelled a lot, and left for good for Australia.’
‘But new residents?’
‘New residents have to be approved by the Committee.’
‘And the building’s owners?’
‘They’re glad of us – empty rooms left unheated and uncared for are bad for buildings, but we’ve been full these last years.’
Just then something stuck in Grey’s recent memory, ‘But you’re not full, are you… unless there’s someone living under all that undergrowth at the end of the second floor corridor?’
The man considered his answer before delivering it, ‘You’re going to hear some things said about Stella that won’t always paint her in the best light. Don’t misunderstand her: most of what she did she did for the right reasons, like how she cared for Charlie; but I did wonder if a part of why she cared for him when no one else did was because at some point in her life no one had cared for her.’
‘The flat, Mr Waldron.’
‘You’re right, that end-flat is empty, has been since Mrs Cuthbert went into hospital a year ago, God rest her. When she first moved in, back before the Trust this was, Stella lived on the first floor next door to me. I became friendly with another fellow along that corridor, and we’d often be going back and forth to each other’s places for drinks and for company, treating the corridor as public space. Now don’t forget, these were private flats back then; and I think Stella thought there was just too much going on outside her door.
‘And so when her current flat… oh no, there’s nothing current about it is there.’
‘Don’t worry, go on.’
‘When her flat on the second floor became available, she went through the whole house-buying
and moving process just to be higher up in the building, and tucked in a corner where only one other resident would ever need to walk past: Mrs Cuthbert, who did nothing more distracting that listen to Radio 3 and keep pot plants.’
‘Did Mrs Cuthbert later became a trustee?’
‘A stalwart – if the history of this place were ever written she’d have a whole chapter.’
‘And when she died?’
‘As I say, this may not show people in the best…’
‘Go on.’
‘I can say it now – Stella used every trick in the book to delay the clearing out of the flat and putting it up for resale. I think it scared her that she’d get the tenant from hell up there, despite it being our decision who was let in. Anyway, it rumbled on for months, and recently we’d just given up mentioning it in Committee meetings. The fact that the Trust was in profit even without that flat’s five thousand a year income allowed us to leave it as the elephant in the room. Stella said she’d look after the plants meanwhile, which we all knew meant that Rachel would look after them. Well, you’ve seen them yourself, those plants just grew and grew: God, it’s like The Drowned World up there, what with Rachel watering them and the sunlight they get in that corridor. We’d have needed a gardener to remove them eventually. In fact, I could get on and arrange it now; or at least when you’re finished up there.’
‘What were her tricks?’
‘Sorry?’
‘How did Stella delay? I need to learn this side of her.’
‘She used the pretext of some letter not being received back from Mrs Cuthbert’s family. You see when a resident dies the Trust instructs Mrs Rossiter, our solicitor, to help the families with flat resale and the disposal of assets. To not hear back from a family usually means she would proceed as usual and the flat’s profits passed on to the beneficiaries; there’s even a proviso in our contracts automatically authorising this: After all, it isn’t as if someone inheriting a flat here could just move in if they weren’t suitable…’
‘I.e. not of retirement age?’
‘And other considerations. Even worse, they might try and sell the flat quickly to someone similarly unfitting. And this isn’t just snobbishness, Inspector: a lot of our residents are old and need a calm, controlled environment. There’s plenty of other places someone young and loud and brash would be happier living. There’s also the fact that we often have a waiting list, and so can make a very good sale for the family.’
‘While also bringing someone in who you’ve already vetted?’
‘Exactly. Everyone wins.’
‘But not this time?’
‘Stella insisted we hear back from Mrs Cuthbert’s family authorising Mrs Rossiter to sell the flat for them; even when she knew as well as any of us that Mrs Cuthbert’s relations were quite distant and hadn’t visited her for years, nor appeared to be making any effort to dispose of the property themselves.’
‘This caused a deadlock?’
‘We couldn’t even announce the vacancy to a couple who’d been waiting for two years.’
‘Stella knew who’d be moving in?’
‘Yes, we’d already met them; lovely people.’
‘So Stella’s response was… irrational, would you say?’
‘I prefer to think of it as a defence mechanism, an automatic response to protect herself, perhaps she not even knowing what from.’
‘Change?’
‘Yes, a knee-jerk fear that new is worse than old, that transition devalues. She could have loved having the new couple as neighbours for all she knew; at least with Mr Tanner’s place falling vacant since then we’ve been able to offer them a place at last.’
‘But the Cuthbert flat..?’
‘I think the situation would have resolved itself in time.’
‘And how would it have ended?’
‘We’d have had to face her down eventually, put it to a vote.’
‘So you were a democracy, you all had equal influence?’
‘There’s influence and influence.’
‘And did she often ride roughshod over the rest of you?’
‘Harsh terms again, Inspector,’ but the man was resigned now to telling it as it was. ‘I’d say she had a certain presence on the Committee; over Rachel too, for she pretty much ran things where she was concerned. Stella was very much more than just a member of the Trust, more like a chairman of the board, with Rachel her manager.’
‘Thank you. I know these aren’t happy questions.’
‘I suppose you have to know; but make no mistake, Inspector: Stella was a force for good, don’t judge her just on this example.’
There was so much Grey needed to know that he wasn’t sure what to ask next,
‘Now you mentioned the girls she tutored, but did she have any other visitors: family, friends, people we need to let know?’
‘No, mostly just her students.’
‘No friends?’
‘We were her friends, we have a very close-knit social group.’
‘I can imagine. And she’d been a teacher, I believe? Any contact from those days?’
‘Not that I recall.’
‘And so,’ he asked again, ‘what about family?’
The man who’d seemed so helpful was going reticent, ‘I knew you’d ask me about that area, and I knew I wouldn’t know what to tell.’
‘Why?’
‘She never liked to talk of her life before Cedars.’
The man seemed to be holding himself together tightly as he said this.
‘Mr Waldron, you’ve trusted me so far; now trust me with this.’
The man stayed silent.
‘Then tell me only what you know of her story, like you did with Charlie’s, for us to sort out.’
But Derek Waldron had slipped into his own defensive mode, perhaps in guilt at what he’d already told,
‘Stella worked hard all her days, educated young minds, paid her own way – and how many can say that in these times? She lived among us happily for decades, was a member of the Trust, was active in the running of the Cedars, was loved and trusted by all she knew, by those she lived with and those who she tutored in the afternoons and whose careers she inestimably brightened. A faultless life, wouldn’t you say? And I for one was proud to know her.’
The picture now being painted was mere hagiography with none of the details Grey needed, interesting only in what it left out: no mention of a boy for the blue bear or of a man for the pocket watch. Listening to this, Grey realised he’d made a mistake talking to a friend of the victim so soon, and who despite initial appearances was clearly not handling his loss any better than those he was seeking to protect were handling theirs.
At the sound of the flat door opening Waldron gathered himself, as if knowing he would soon be saved,
‘Inspector. You began calling her Stella back there, not Ms Dunbar. I think she’d have wanted you to call her that, she did with her closest friends, and there’ll be none closer than you by the end.’
With Grey stunned by this utterance, the conversation had come to a natural pause as Rachel Sowton walked it, her self-control resumed and seemingly unperturbed at seeing the men sat around her living quarters.
‘Rachel, I’ve explained to the Inspector…’ began the still quaking Waldron, but she spoke across him,
‘Inspector, could we take the air? I need a cigarette.’
Chapter 4 – Rachel Sowton
