‘That’s right,’ said Barbara Melrose. ‘We had to attend the inquest; the coroner was very kind and he seemed satisfied that we did everything we could for her.’
‘It appears that the old lady’s son doesn’t think so, and we are informed that you were overheard later saying something that suggested otherwise. To be precise –’ she referred to her notes – ‘our information is that one of you said, “Her time was up anyway,” to which the other replied, “That’s why I didn’t say anything.” Would either of you care to comment on those remarks?’
Two pairs of eyes widened, two jaws dropped and hands were clapped to two mouths. For a few seconds the nurses struggled to control themselves, failed, and exploded into giggles. ‘Perhaps you’d like to share the joke?’ Vicky suggested.
‘Oh dear, do we have to? It’s really very embarrassing – and we might lose our jobs if it gets back to him,’ said Sally.
‘Of course, he might give us a bonus if we promise not to tell Carla,’ Barbara tittered.
‘If it turns out that you’re withholding vital information you stand to lose more than your jobs,’ Sukey snapped, at which the women hastily straightened their faces. ‘What you have just said appears, on the face of it, to go some way to refute Mr Donaldson’s claim to have found evidence of negligence. However, it is possible it opens a rather different can of worms. And you are right; we are also looking into the murder of Fenella Tremaine. So it might be in your interests to come clean. When you said you might lose your jobs if it gets back to him, do we take it you were talking about your employer, Mr Seaton?’ The two women exchanged glances and then nodded.
‘You reckon he plays away?’ asked Vicky. Again they nodded. ‘And the one whose time was up anyway – would that by any chance be Fenella Tremaine?’
‘We reckon so,’ said Barbara. ‘We could see they fancied each other. He used to make a point of coming into the lounge when she was visiting Peggy Thompson and you could tell by the looks they gave each other and the way they exchanged whispers. They would have realized none of the old dears would notice anything and it probably didn’t occur to either of them that we might be keeping an eye on them.’
‘You’ve both been here a considerable time – had he had other affairs?’
Sally shrugged. ‘Who can say?’
‘Has he tried it on with either of you?’
‘No, we reckon he’s too smart for that.’
‘Do you think his wife knows – or suspects?’
‘It’s none of our business,’ said Barbara. ‘Look, is that all you want to ask us? It’s nearly time to make the mid-morning rounds.’
‘Yes, that’s all for now, and we can assure Mr Donaldson that you have given a completely satisfactory explanation of the conversation that Ms Tremaine overheard,’ said Vicky.
‘And you won’t say anything about . . . you know?’
‘There’s no need for us to take formal statements from you at the moment,’ said Sukey.
NINE
DS Rathbone had barely completed the formalities prior to resuming the previous day’s interview with Marcus Ellerman when he was called away to take the call from Sukey, reporting on the visit she and Vicky had paid to Kate Springfield. When he returned to the interview room Penny could see immediately that he had learned something significant. He resumed his seat and reset the tape recorder. He leaned forward with his chin jutting out and his eyes narrowed in a manner plainly calculated to intimidate.
‘All right, Doctor Ellerman, let’s recap shall we?’ he began. ‘First, although you were aware, from an overheard conversation, that the knife in Fenella Tremaine’s back had a distinctively carved handle, you were evasive when questioned about some souvenir items that you and your wife brought back from your overseas travels, even when knives with decorative handles were specifically mentioned. Second, when shown a photograph of the actual knife used to kill Fenella, you stated – having given the picture only a cursory glance – that you had never seen one like it. And third –’ with each new point Rathbone jabbed the table with a forefinger – ‘when pressed to look more closely at the photograph and answer the question again you refused to do so without first consulting your solicitor. Are we agreed so far?’ Ellerman nodded. ‘Please answer aloud for the tape.’
‘Yes.’
‘Fine. So now, having consulted your solicitor, you decide to admit not only to recognizing the knife but actually owning one of identical design, which you immediately offer to produce. Would you care to explain why, if you were so confident of being able to show us your own knife, you didn’t say so in the first place?’
Ellerman cast a pleading glance at Jason Pollard, who gave an encouraging nod. ‘I admit it was stupid of me,’ he said lamely, ‘but . . . I suppose I panicked. I’d already lied about it or, as you say, been evasive, and like I said, I thought you might suspect I had a second knife, but I swear I bought only one and I had no idea it had gone. Surely, it’s obvious it was stolen by the killer. Wilkins is the only person other than personal friends who’ve been in my flat recently, so surely he’s the one you should be questioning, not me. For God’s sake, Sergeant!’ He raised his hands, palms upwards, as if in supplication. ‘If I was planning to murder Fenella, which I emphatically deny, do you think I’d have been stupid enough to stab her virtually on my doorstep and with my own knife?’
‘You’d be surprised at the stupid things even people with a lot of letters after their names do in the heat of the moment,’ said Rathbone. He leaned back in his chair and said in a casual tone, ‘By the way, Doctor Ellerman, where were you between nine thirty and midnight last Friday?’
Ellerman appeared taken aback at the sudden change of direction. He glanced at Pollard, who indicated with a nod that he should answer. ‘Let’s see, what was I doing last Friday?’ He thought for a moment before saying, ‘Ah yes, I was at home, catching up with some work. We’d had rather a busy day at the office and I brought some accounts back with me to check.’
‘What time did you arrive home?’
‘I don’t remember the exact time . . . probably shortly after seven o’clock.’
‘So from then on you were at home on your own all the evening?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You didn’t go out at all? To get something to eat or drink, for example?’
‘I took something from the freezer, heated it in the microwave and ate it sitting at my desk.’
‘Did you have any visitors?’
‘No.’
‘Did you receive any phone calls?’
‘Not that I remember.’
‘Or make any calls?’
‘No.’
‘What time did you go to bed?’
‘About midnight, I suppose.’ Ellerman appeared both bewildered and uneasy as Rathbone pressed on with his questions. ‘Look, what is this all about?’
‘So we have only your word for it that you were indoors, in your own flat, from approximately seven o’clock until midnight? In other words, you are unable to produce a single witness who can confirm what you have just told us.’ Ellerman drew a sharp breath and opened his mouth, but no sound came out. ‘Supposing I were to tell you,’ Rathbone continued, ‘that we have a witness who saw you in the recycling area at Sycamore Park at about the time when, according to the forensic pathologist, Fenella Tremaine was murdered with your knife. What do you have to say to that?’
‘I’d say they were lying!’ Ellerman’s colour flared. He cast a despairing glance at Pollard, who appeared momentarily transfixed, and then half rose with his hands raised. To Penny’s alarm he appeared to be about to attack Rathbone, and the uniformed officer keeping guard grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back into his seat. ‘Sergeant,’ he said in a hoarse voice, ‘I give you my word that I did not move from my flat on the evening in question. Who is this witness anyway? I demand to know!’
‘Please Doctor Ellerman, calm down!’ said Pollard. He turned to Rathbone. ‘I understand that ac
cording to medical reports this murder took place some time between nine thirty and midnight. My client has stated quite definitely that he did not leave his flat all evening, so it is obvious that it was some other person your witness saw.’
‘Of course, that’s it!’ said Ellerman, his earlier anger giving place to relief at what he evidently saw as a reprieve. ‘It must have been Wilkins. I said it was Wilkins, didn’t I? He’s the man you should be questioning, Sergeant, not me.’
‘How would you describe Frederick Wilkins, Doctor Ellerman?’
Ellerman’s frown was almost a scowl. ‘I don’t know . . . I’ve never taken much notice of his appearance, except he always looks scruffy, even when he’s off duty.’
‘Would you say he was well built?’
‘Not particularly. On the scrawny side if anything.’
‘About how tall? Medium height? Six feet or over?
‘Oh, for God’s sake, how am I supposed to know? Not particularly tall – about average height I suppose.’
‘Not particularly tall, scruffy and on the scrawny side,’ Rathbone repeated. ‘That hardly fits in with our witness’s description, which was of “a well-built man, quite tall, dressed in light-coloured trousers and a shirt with long sleeves” – not exactly scruffy.’
‘All right, so it might not have been Wilkins your witness saw,’ Ellerman conceded with some reluctance. ‘All I’m saying is that it wasn’t me. It must have been someone else who fits that description, not necessarily the killer. It still doesn’t put Wilkins in the clear, does it?’
‘All right, we’ll leave that for the moment. Now let’s go back to the knife. There are fingerprints on the handle but it would appear that an attempt – a rather clumsy attempt – was made to wipe them off. When this interview is over an officer will take your prints for comparison.’
‘Of course my prints will be on it – it’s my knife! Whoever killed Fenella left them on to incriminate me!’
‘So why would he attempt to wipe them off?’
Ellerman, who by this time appeared thoroughly rattled, passed a shaking hand over his forehead. ‘How should I know? People do stupid things . . . as you yourself reminded me a little while ago,’ he added in what seemed to Penny a desperate attempt to regain some kind of initiative.
At this point Pollard intervened. ‘I assure you, Sergeant, that my client will have absolutely no objection to having his fingerprints taken,’ he said. ‘However, I must point out that although he admits having been less than frank with you during your earlier enquiries, it is clear that you have nothing but hearsay and circumstantial evidence to connect him with the murder of Fenella Tremaine. Unless you can produce some hard evidence on which to base a charge, I must insist that you release him without further delay.’
‘Wait here while I arrange for an officer to take your prints,’ said Rathbone curtly. He left the room briefly. Once outside he called DCI Leach and gave him a report on the interview. On his return he found Ellerman wiping ink from his fingers.
‘All right, you can now prove that I have at some time handled my own knife,’ he remarked with a hint of a sneer. ‘I take it I’m free to leave without a stain on my character?’
‘You are being released on police bail,’ Rathbone informed him curtly. ‘Your solicitor will explain what that involves.’
Barbara and Sally resumed their duties and Sukey and Vicky went back to the office. Sukey tapped on the door, which was slightly ajar. A woman’s voice called ‘Come’ and they entered to find Brian Seaton and a thin-faced woman in a dark-blue nurse’s uniform standing side by side at an open filing cabinet, apparently studying the contents of a folder. They looked up as the detectives entered and Sukey was immediately struck by the contrast between Seaton’s smile of recognition and the woman’s wary, almost hostile expression.
‘Ah, you’re back!’ he said. ‘Carla dear, these are the—’
‘Two meddlesome detectives, who are calling the standard of our care for our residents and the integrity of our staff into question,’ she interrupted. ‘I trust you are satisfied that there is no justification for the allegations made by Mr Donaldson and we shall expect a full apology.’ She glared at them both from behind round and unflattering spectacles
‘Mrs Seaton,’ said Sukey, ‘there has never been an intention on our part to make any kind of judgement on your standards of care. We are investigating the murder of Fenella Tremaine, who has been a frequent visitor here and who is reported to have made certain statements which we are obliged to investigate. And I’m pleased to inform you,’ she added quickly, anticipating an acid response, ‘that after speaking to the two nurses in question, Barbara Melrose and Sally Carter, concerning a snatch of conversation said to have been overheard by Ms Tremaine, we have found nothing to support Mr Bradley Donaldson’s allegations. We shall inform him accordingly, and we appreciate your and your husband’s cooperation.’
‘These allegations,’ said Carla Seaton, ‘exactly what were they and what was the conversation about? Surely we have a right to know.’
‘It was a purely private conversation,’ said Vicky, ‘and we are satisfied that it had been totally misunderstood and bore no relevance whatsoever to the death of Mrs Donaldson.’
‘So what exactly did Carter and Melrose say to one another to cause all this misunderstanding, as you call it?’
‘As my colleague has just informed you, it was a private conversation.’ Sukey could hear her tone becoming sharp in response to the other’s aggressive manner. ‘All we can say is that everything has been explained to our satisfaction, so we won’t waste any more of your time.’
‘Thank you so much.’ Seaton hurried to the door and opened it. ‘I’ll show you out.’ He led them back to the entrance, pausing on the way to greet an elderly man, leaning heavily on a stick, who was heading with faltering steps towards the lounge. ‘Hurry up Alec, you’ll be late for elevenses!’ he said and the old man’s wrinkled face lit up in a smile. ‘They do love a word of encouragement,’ he said as he opened the front door. As they parted he shook them both by the hand and said, ‘I really think you two young ladies are much too pretty to be chasing murderers!’ They acknowledged the remark with polite smiles and returned to their car.
‘What do you make of that set-up?’ said Vicky.
‘I wonder if she suspected her husband was having it off with Fenella Tremaine?’ said Sukey. ‘From the look of her, I’d say she was capable of murder.’
‘Well, you can hardly blame him for having a bit on the side,’ Vicky replied. ‘I’ll bet she’s not much fun in bed. You certainly gave her the rough edge of your tongue, by the way. I’ve noticed several times recently you’ve sounded a bit snappy. It’s not like you – is there something wrong?’
Sukey gave a deep sigh as she settled into her seat and clipped on her seat belt. ‘Oh, it’s nothing really. Harry’s been busy all week and we haven’t seen each other so we were hoping to spend time together over the weekend, but it didn’t happen. And then, oh hell, I’ve got a birthday coming up and it’s the big four zero. That’s enough to depress anyone.’
Vicky burst out laughing. ‘Don’t be so daft! Remember the old Sophie Tucker song – “Life begins at Forty”? And –’ she turned to scrutinize Sukey’s face – ‘you don’t look a day over thirty so stop worrying. First opportunity you get, give Harry a night to remember!’
Sukey peered in the vanity mirror. ‘Not too many lines, I guess. Thanks for the advice Vicky; you’re a pal.’
‘No probs.’ Vicky turned on the ignition and drove slowly back to the gate. ‘For the record, I’m only a few months behind you!’
Back at headquarters, Rathbone listened to the team’s verbal reports before saying, ‘Just to bring you up to date this end, we had to let Ellerman go for the time being, but he’s by no means out of the frame. I’ve spoken to DCI Leach and as he’s already shown signs of aggressive behaviour we’re agreed we need to find out a bit more about his past. He may even have
form. We now know a bit more about Fenella. It’s interesting that she had an affair with the joint owner of the care home she used to visit; she’s probably had other lovers, so that’s another line of enquiry that needs following up. There may be other vengeful wives lurking in the background, although they’re hardly likely to possess oriental daggers with carved handles.’
‘Excuse me, Sarge.’ Penny put up a tentative hand. ‘Sukey and Vicky said they thought Mrs Seaton looked as if she was capable of murder. Supposing she found out about her husband’s affair? She probably knew where Fenella lived; being a regular visitor to the home she would have had to give an ID for security reasons. Supposing Mrs Seaton had a knife identical to Ellerman’s and—’
‘Sneaked over to Sycamore Park one dark night on the off-chance of finding Fenella presenting a sitting target in the recycling area?’ Rathbone’s tone was faintly patronizing and Penny looked suitably abashed. ‘Ingenious, but stretching coincidence a bit too far, don’t you think? Still,’ he conceded, ‘until we’ve checked the murder weapon for fingerprints we have to keep open minds. Now –’ he was scrolling down his computer screen as he spoke – ‘there are several names here of people who were visited during the initial house-to-house enquiries but don’t appear to have been spoken to since. They’re all residents of Sycamore Park: Jennifer Freeman, Jared Whittington and Larry Worsley; more significantly, they’re also members of the residents’ association committee and were present at the meeting in Ellerman’s flat to discuss the contentious matter of the accounts that was carried over from the general meeting. In the light of the latest developments we’ll have to talk to them again. We need to know exactly what happened at that meeting – how was the matter settled, was it a brief business meeting or did it turn into more of a social occasion with refreshments and if so what particular topics came up in conversation, did they notice anything of particular interest in the flat, that sort of thing. Show them the picture of the murder weapon, but be careful not to imply that Ellerman is a suspect at this stage – we don’t want misleading reports in the press. The last thing we need is the media hounding him and leaving us liable to a claim for damages if he’s proved innocent.’
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