‘That’s right,’ she said in a tremulous voice. ‘I feel simply awful about not coming to tell you before, but I’ve been away you see and I’ve only just found out about poor Aggie . . . oh, I do hope I’m not too late . . . supposing he’s done it again and the body hasn’t been found yet? Such a nice gentleman, who’d have thought he’d do such a terrible thing?’
‘Mrs Maynard,’ said Rathbone, ‘we do not believe Aggie was the victim of a serial killer, so please relax. Before we go any further, perhaps you’d like a cup of tea or coffee?’
The surprise in her smile made it clear that this was the last thing she expected. ‘Oh . . . yes, a cup of coffee would be lovely.’
‘Milk and sugar?’
‘No sugar, thank you.’
He ordered coffee for the three of them. When they were settled and Mrs Maynard appeared less tense, he said, ‘Just take your time and tell us in your own words exactly what you know.’
‘Well,’ she began, speaking slowly at first and then more quickly as her story proceeded. ‘I saw her picture in a back number of the Echo when I got back from Italy yesterday evening and my first thought was “Poor Aggie” and my next was “Oh my God, that could have been me!” It was my regular day to clean for him you see, but I couldn’t do it because my flight was changed at the last minute and so I asked Aggie . . .’ Her voice trailed away; she fished in her handbag for a tissue and dabbed her eyes. ‘I knew she didn’t like working in the afternoon,’ she went on, ‘but I thought “maybe just this once she won’t mind and anyway I did her a similar favour a week or two ago”. It didn’t even enter my head that he’d be there . . . he isn’t usually . . . and now she’s dead and it could have been me . . . and I’m so afraid you’ll find he’s murdered another poor woman and if I’d told you before I could have stopped him. I feel so guilty.’ Her shoulders sagged and she scrubbed her eyes with the tissue.
Sensing that Rathbone’s impatience was beginning to show, Sukey said, ‘Mrs Maynard, there is absolutely no reason why you should feel guilty. We understand why you couldn’t come to us earlier and DS Rathbone has already told you that we do not believe the person who murdered Aggie is likely to kill again.’
‘You’re sure of that?’ she said doubtfully.
‘As sure as we can be. Now, about this gentleman you usually clean for on Wednesday afternoons; he isn’t normally in the flat while you’re working, but you say he’s nice so you must have met him at least once.’
‘Oh yes, he was there the first time. Most clients like to be there the first time to show the cleaner exactly what she has to do, what things not to touch and where all the polishes and things are kept, that sort of thing. Some are there every time of course . . . it just depends.’
‘But in this case the gentleman was normally absent while you were cleaning his flat?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Do you know his name?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I’ve forgotten . . . I haven’t seen him since that first time and I clean for quite a few other people. Mrs Shilling will tell you.’
‘Well, thank you very much for your help Mrs Maynard,’ said Rathbone. ‘DC Reynolds will prepare a record of your statement which we will ask you to sign before you leave.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘We’re getting somewhere at last,’ said Rathbone as he returned to the main office. ‘Mike, call Mrs Shilling and ask her who Mrs Maynard normally cleans for on Wednesday afternoons.’
After making the call Mike put down the phone and said, ‘It’s a Mr John A. Yardley of thirty Sycamore Park, Sarge.’
Rathbone gave a soft whistle and reached for his jacket. ‘J A Y . . . Jay. Right, Mike. You, Tim and I will pay him a visit.’
‘I’ve been expecting you,’ said Yardley when Rathbone explained the reason for their call. ‘I’ve known all along I’d never get away with it, but at the time . . . it was a knee-jerk reaction that got out of hand . . . fatally out of hand. I should never have been at home, of course; I normally meet friends for lunch on a Wednesday. It was very unfortunate.’ He led the way into the sitting room. ‘Do sit down.’
Studying him, Mike was astonished at his composure and dignity. He had as good as admitted to the murder of one woman and was almost certainly responsible for another, yet his manner was that of a courteous host.
‘I never even heard her come in,’ he went on. ‘I’d just read the report in that morning’s Echo about the arrest . . . there were no names of course but I knew it was him . . . and I couldn’t contain a shout of triumph, probably something like “I did it Julie, I did it for you!” I think I even punched the air like some teenage football fan. It was so good to know that he was going to go down for something I’d done.’
‘So what happened then?’ prompted Rathbone as Yardley seemed to fall into a reverie. As Mike told the others later, he wore a trace of a smile that gave him a bizarre resemblance to the Mona Lisa.
He gave a slight start. ‘Forgive me, I was just . . . anyway it was then that I heard a scream; I turned round and there was that woman . . . someone I’d never seen before . . . and she was obviously terrified and had guessed the truth. She was shaking and she wouldn’t stop screaming; I grabbed her by the throat and squeezed it like this.’ He raised his hands and mimed the action. ‘I don’t think I realized what I was doing, only that I had to keep her quiet. She stopped screaming and I let go of her and gave her a little shake and said something like “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you” but I suddenly realized that she was dead and I’d killed her.’
‘So what did you do then?’ asked Rathbone.
‘I knew I had to dispose of her body, of course, but it was broad daylight so I just hid her in a cupboard and waited. I waited until some time in the small hours – it seemed an eternity – and I wrapped her in a blanket and smuggled her out through the rear exit, praying I wouldn’t meet or be seen by anybody. I put her into the boot of my car and . . . well, I don’t need to say any more, do I?’
‘On the contrary, sir,’ said Rathbone, ‘we believe you have a great deal more to say.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll tell you the background to the whole story. I’ve still got her handbag, by the way. I’ll go and fetch it.’ He stood up and was about to walk from the room, but Mike barred his way.
‘No need for that, sir,’ said Rathbone. ‘My officers will carry out a thorough search of your flat. We’ll need to examine your car, so kindly give me the key and tell me where it is.’
Yardley shrugged and sat down. ‘It’s in the garage that belongs to this flat. I suppose you want the keys to the flat as well. They’re all on the shelf by the front door.’
Rathbone stood up. ‘We’ll continue this interview at headquarters,’ he said. ‘John Alfred Yardley, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Aghami Hussein.’ Yardley made no reply and they took him downstairs and drove him to police headquarters.
During the interval before the case came to trial Sukey had a hard time resisting Harry’s pleas for information. At the hearing at Bristol Magistrates Court Yardley refused legal aid and frankly admitted killing Fenella Tremaine and Aggie Hussein, describing them both as innocent victims of his determination to avenge Julie Armitage’s death. In the dock he expressed particular contrition for having killed Aggie, who had played no part in his original plan but had merely had the misfortune to stumble on the scene at what he described as “an inopportune moment”. However, he stated openly that had he been successful in laying the blame at Ellerman’s door he would have been more than satisfied to see him sentenced to a substantial term in prison. ‘If we still had capital punishment I’d have been happy to see him go to the gallows,’ he finished defiantly. At this point, the magistrate adjourned the proceedings and remanded him in custody for medical reports.
‘He’s obviously a nut case,’ Harry remarked when he called on Sukey with a Chinese takeaway a day or two later. ‘He seemed to regard poor Fenella as a
kind of sacrificial lamb.’
‘It would have made more sense to most people if he’d stuck his knife into Ellerman,’ Sukey agreed, ‘but as he considered him morally responsible for Julie’s death – which of course he was – he was determined to make him pay what he considered a suitable penalty.’
‘So his hatred of Ellerman had been festering all this time while he was trying to figure out a suitable way to punish him?’
‘That’s right. He admitted he suddenly got the idea from seeing the knife and took the opportunity of nicking it while the rest of the party were looking at pictures. His first thought after learning what happened to Julie had been to find a way to kill Ellerman, but then it occurred to him that if he could get him sent down for murder it would be a much greater punishment. That’s what prompted that odd comment about it being a pity that Fenella was the one who had to die.’ She sipped her wine in silence for a few moments, then frowned suddenly.
‘Penny for them?’ said Harry.
‘I’ve just remembered . . . during one of our discussions I put forward a theory that putting the blame on Ellerman might have been the motive for the Tremaine murder. And guess who I thought the killer might have been? Jennifer Freeman!’
‘You’re joking!’
‘We were just brainstorming, of course. I was on the right lines, but had the wrong suspect.’
‘Going back to Yardley,’ said Harry, ‘I think he’s got Italian blood. He’s got that sort of look about him. Maybe he saw his mission, as he called it, as a sort of vendetta. What do you think they’ll do with him? He’s not likely to be a danger to anyone else.’
Sukey twirled her wine glass between her fingers. ‘It depends on what the shrinks make of him,’ she said after a moment’s thought. ‘As you say, he’s done what he set out to do and as far as he’s concerned it’s end of story. He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered about what happens to him next. He’s not completely heartless; during one of the interviews before we charged him he said, “Tell Kate I’m sorry.”’
‘Who’s Kate?’
‘Kate Springfield; she lives in the same block as Ellerman and the SIO thought it would be a good idea if I went to see her. We still don’t know for certain how he came to know Julie or why he became so concerned for her welfare. He flatly refused to tell us – in fact he got quite emotional every time we broached the subject. We thought she might have worked at Maxworth’s and we asked them to check their records for a Julie Armitage, but no joy there. She might have been a temp, of course, but they had no idea what agency they used at the relevant time. Kate was another possible source of info; we thought he might have confided in her, but she knows nothing about his past except that he’s a widower, used to live in Clevedon and had been “somebody important in a local business” before he retired. She’s a single woman in her sixties by the look of her; he’s been dating her quite a lot and I think she was cherishing a secret hope that he’d propose to her one day. She’s really distressed; she kept telling me what a good, kind gentleman he is and how she found it hard to believe him capable of hurting anyone.’
‘She sounds a simple soul,’ Harry remarked.
‘You can say that again. She said at one point, “Henry didn’t trust him, so perhaps I should have been on my guard.” Henry, by the way, is her cousin’s cat and she said he “didn’t take kindly to dear John”. His owner seriously maintains he has near-human understanding.’
Harry chuckled. ‘They sound a pair of really dotty old dears.’
‘At least it’s a harmless form of dottiness.’ Sukey suddenly found tears welling from her eyes. ‘Oh Harry, why is there so much sadness in the world?’
‘There’s happiness too,’ he said meaningfully, taking her hand and squeezing it.
‘That’s true,’ she admitted, returning the pressure, ‘but in my job I see a lot of the dark side of life.’
At that moment her mobile rang and she picked it up. ‘Hullo . . . oh Gus, lovely to hear from you! Got your results yet? A two one . . . well done! We must celebrate . . . what’s that? Oh Gus, how exciting . . . yes, of course I am . . . I’m delighted . . . give Anita a big hug from me . . . yes, see you soon . . . bye!’ She switched off the phone. ‘Wonderful news! He’s already been promised a job now he’s got his degree, a good one . . . and guess what, he and Anita plan to get married next year. Can you beat that, Harry? I’ll be a mother-in-law!’
‘You’ll be the nicest mother-in-law ever,’ he assured her. ‘Let’s take them out for a celebration dinner.’
‘That’s a lovely idea, we’ll do that. And there’s another bit of good news as well. I almost forgot to tell you; our Sarge is now DI Rathbone. We only heard about it yesterday; it accounts for why he’s been so edgy lately, waiting for the results of the final interview.’
‘Well, good for him,’ said Harry. ‘I’m sure he deserves it. And I’ve just remembered something else; I’ve had a call from Major Howes and it seems that Brian Seaton is making a serious effort to mend his fences with Carla. He spotted them one evening recently in their glad rags as if they were off to some fancy do or other, and, according to the Major, he was holding Carla’s arm and she was looking really happy – almost attractive. To use his own words, “Perhaps he’s realized he’s been a bit of a swine and is trying to make amends.”’
‘I’m really glad to hear that,’ said Sukey. ‘I’ll never forget her saying pitifully, “If only he’d loved me just a little.”’
‘I thought that would please you. I wonder how the court will deal with her?’
‘It depends on what charge they decide to bring. “Administering a substance with intent to cause temporary disability”? It should be a teaser for the legal eagles.’
Harry put down his empty glass and took hers away. He reached again for her hand and this time he drew her close. ‘You’re right, of course, there’s always a dark side,’ he whispered. ‘Suppose I turned out to be a killer, for example? What would you do then?’
‘Oh, but you are a killer,’ she said softly. ‘In the best possible way, of course.’
Unnatural Wastage Page 24