The Waxwork Corpse: A legal thriller with a chilling twist (Charles Holborne Legal Thrillers Book 5)

by Simon Michael

‘Very well. In the circumstances, perhaps it would be best to defer this interview until your solicitor can be contacted. I’m not very happy to start at this hour. You’re entitled to some sleep now. So we’ll start in the morning.’

  Steele stares at Hook, uncomprehending. ‘Are you serious?’ he demands angrily, for the first time revealing some emotion. ‘Are you telling me you’ve woken me in the middle of the night to drive me for an hour to a police station, with no intention of conducting an interview now? You’re going to make me wait here until tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Well, sir, it is tomorrow morning, if you take my meaning, but I do wish to wait until office hours when your solicitor may be present.’

  ‘Which means that I shall have to sleep here.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid it does.’

  ‘This is deliberate harassment! You’re trying to create maximum distress, to intimidate and humiliate me. Why on earth bring me in at this hour if it could’ve waited until morning?’

  ‘I assure you, sir, we had no such intention. One of the reasons for seeking your help at this unusual hour was to protect you from adverse publicity.’

  ‘I don’t believe that, superintendent. I can think of no good reason for arresting me now simply to keep me here overnight. You could just as easily have come during daylight hours.’

  ‘I repeat, sir, you are not under arrest.’

  ‘Well, if I am not under arrest, I wish to be returned to my home immediately. Or you can start the interview now. If the matter reaches the point where I feel I want a solicitor here, I shall let you know and we can reconsider.’

  Superintendent Hook flushes slightly. He looks across at Carr with raised eyebrows, inviting his opinion. Before setting off to Steele’s home, the inspector had tentatively suggested to his superior that perhaps they should defer the whole thing until the following morning, but he’d been peremptorily overruled. Having met the tall superintendent for the first time only half an hour earlier, Carr didn’t feel on safe enough ground to argue his corner. Hook’s face gives nothing away and he speaks little; when he does, it’s through lips that barely move. Carr is reminded of Sydney Greenstreet’s description of a “close-mouthed man”.

  From the tactical perspective as well, Carr would far rather have conducted the interview after getting some sleep. Lord Justice Steele is reputed to have one of the finest intellects of his generation, which is presumably why he’s tipped for promotion to the House of Lords in record time. He’d also had over a decade to plan his answers. So the officers would need their wits about them, and it would have been sensible to get a few hours’ kip before launching into this particular duel.

  Carr weighs his answer carefully, acutely aware that his working relationship with this unknown superintendent probably hangs in the balance. If he agrees that the judge should be taken back home, it will be an obvious snub to his boss, tantamount to saying “I told you so.” So Carr shrugs and nods, trying to look more awake than he feels.

  ‘I’m happy to proceed if Sir Anthony is,’ he says.

  Hook addresses the judge. ‘Very well. The inspector here will be asking these questions. I have also asked for a solicitor advising the prosecution to attend, unless you have any objections. He’ll be here shortly.’

  ‘I have no objections.’

  ‘Then let’s begin, inspector,’ says Hook, taking out his notebook and pen.

  Inspector Carr opens a file before him, leafs through some notes to collect his thoughts, closes the file again and begins.

  He deals first with how Steele and Lise Bonseigneur met, when they married, where they honeymooned and where they lived for the first years of their married life. Steele answers every question simply, neither embellishing his answers with extraneous detail nor hiding anything relevant. He sits completely still in his chair, his hands clasped lightly together on the table before him as he speaks, often with his eyes closed, the mug of tea untouched and now cold.

  Superintendent Hook, who observes from slightly above the fray, can easily see how the man had been a success at the Bar. His voice is calm but powerful. Facts, such as dates, names and places, are given in a simple, matter-of-fact way, sometimes after a pause, but never seeming to evade or obfuscate. Indeed, it is only rarely that Steele needs to pause for thought, for his memory of places, dates and names — even of neighbours and colleagues whom he hasn’t seen for fifteen years — is excellent.

  Then Carr moves to more personal but still very general matters. It is now, as he deals with the birth of the couple’s children, the milestones in their lives and their schooling, that the superintendent can hear surges of emotion in the answers, and it is these responses, rather than the clarity and simplicity of the others, that begin to convince both policemen that the judge is doing all he can to recount events truthfully.

  Carr changes tactics slightly, deliberately jumping quickly from subject to subject, giving his suspect no time to guess the direction or purpose of the questioning.

  ‘Have you ever owned a boat?’

  ‘No,’ answers Steele after a short pause for reflection.

  ‘Do you sail?’

  ‘I have sailed, if that’s your question, but if you mean do I sail regularly, as in some form of hobby, no I don’t.’

  ‘What decorating did you do, or did you have done at your last address?’

  ‘I should think the entire house was redecorated at least once. Probably more. We also had an extension built, which would have entailed redecorating throughout.’

  ‘Have you ever varnished or applied stain to wooden floors at that house?’

  ‘Me personally? I doubt it. I can’t swear to it, but I have no recollection of ever doing so. Not the sort of thing that I would do for pleasure. I’m not a handyman.’

  ‘Do you know the Lake District?’

  ‘No. I’ve never been there, except when driving on my way to Scotland.’

  ‘Did your wife?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so, but she might have been there with any of her boyfriends and not told me.’

  ‘Did you have a television at your last home?’

  ‘Yes. Two.’

  ‘Did they have portable aerials or fixed, as in run by cables up to the roof?’

  ‘The latter.’

  ‘When did you do the cabling, or have it done?’

  ‘I did neither. I believe it was installed shortly before we moved in.’

  ‘Did you have a mistress or lover at the time when your wife was killed?’

  ‘Ha!’ laughs Steele, with genuine amusement. ‘Well, firstly, I have never had a mistress or lover. I don’t believe in that sort of thing. And secondly, I don’t know when my wife was killed, or if she was at all. All I know is when she left our home. Are the two necessarily the same?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to establish, sir,’ replies Superintendent Hook.

  Now, having gained some insight into Steele’s life and what sort of man he is, Carr feels confident enough to move gradually to the heart of the interview.

  ‘Would you say that yours was a happy marriage?’

  ‘It was for some years. After the children were born it deteriorated rapidly.’

  ‘Deteriorated?’

  Steele pauses, collecting his thoughts. ‘My wife had an unhappy childhood. She was not shown much love or affection herself. It made her very selfish, and it gave her no idea of how to nurture young children. She had no role models.’

  There’s a knock on the door and Jones slips into the room. Carr looks up, irritated at his flow having been broken. Jones looks apologetic, Hook makes the introductions and the little solicitor takes a seat in the corner of the room to observe from a distance.

  ‘You were saying that your wife had an unhappy childhood and had difficulty nurturing your children. How did that affect your marriage?’

  ‘She became very unhappy. She knew she wasn’t a good mother and, worse, she knew others knew it. She tried quite hard for short periods,
particularly at the beginning, but she hated the entire thing. From then on she was … defiant, I suppose. She still cared what others thought of course, but she told herself that she didn’t. She started drinking and having … relationships outside the marriage. We became estranged — not in the sense that we lived apart, but in the sense that we couldn’t communicate anymore. We lost our way.’

  ‘Did you still love her?’

  ‘Very much.’

  ‘Even when she had affairs with other men?’

  ‘Even then. She was a lost child, looking for … something … love perhaps? In any event, something she believed we, as a family, couldn’t give her. I felt that I’d failed her, do you see?’

  In truth, Carr is having some difficulty seeing. Steele still speaks with apparent candour and sincerity, but the inspector begins to wonder if Steele’s selfless understanding isn’t a pose. From where he comes, if your wife starts behaving like a whore, you give her a good hiding. If that doesn’t do the trick, you divorce her. The idea that it might be your fault, especially if you never drink, gamble, screw around or beat her up … well, that’s difficult to grasp.

  ‘Were you really not jealous?’ he asks.

  ‘Of course I was. But I knew that none of these men were important to her. I sometimes thought that she was only doing it for my benefit.’

  ‘Your benefit?’ interjects Hook with evident disbelief.

  ‘I’m not certain, you understand, but much of what she did seemed designed to prompt a response in me. When I didn’t respond, her behaviour would become even more outrageous. By contrast, on the few occasions I was finally goaded into a row, she would calm down very quickly and be very affectionate afterwards.’

  ‘Were you often goaded into a row?’

  ‘Very rarely. I can remember three such events.’

  Steele has himself brought the questioning around to the point which the police particularly want to probe, but at this point Carr shies away from it and changes tack.

  ‘I am curious about something, Sir Anthony. We wake you in the middle of the night, thirteen years after your wife disappears, and ask you to drive for an hour to a police station. You do the journey in complete silence. Then you sit here and answer, what, an hour’s worth of questions, yet not once have you asked me why you’re here. Why is that?’

  Steele smiles, and Carr bridles at the condescension of a man who is at least two moves ahead of him.

  ‘You tell me you have found my wife’s body. Clearly, she didn’t die on an alcoholic ward or in the throes of some desperate lust in a hotel bed, either of which, frankly, I would have expected, but neither of which would have involved me. At the least, she must have died in unexplained circumstances, or you wouldn’t be involved. Further, she must have died some considerable time ago, as if it had only been recent, you wouldn’t have wanted to question me, when the most basic of detection work would have shown that she’s had nothing to do with me or the children since the day she walked out. I therefore deduce that you’ve found her body and that she appears to have died a considerable time ago, when she was still involved with me. So you have to interview me to investigate the circumstances of the last time I saw her. Correct so far?’

  Carr glances at Superintendent Hook and Jones, both of whom nod. ‘Very good, sir,’ answers Carr.

  ‘Of course, I’d be surprised if you could say precisely when she died,’ continues Steele. ‘My experience of forensic pathology is limited, but I guess that after this length of time, a year or two either way is perfectly possible.’

  No one answers, and Steele realises that he’s hit on a real problem for the police.

  ‘Anyway,’ he continues, ‘you want to know about the last time I saw her. Shall we get onto that subject? Then you may return me to my bed and continue your enquiries elsewhere.’

  Carr smiles, trying to look more confident than he feels. Steele’s summary has somehow shifted the balance of power in the room away from him.

  ‘As you say, sir, let’s move on. You claim you only had two or three rows with your wife. Was one of those on the day you last saw her?’

  ‘It was.’

  ‘What caused this row?’

  ‘She’d been away for a couple of days with her friend.’

  ‘When you say “friend” do you mean lover?’

  ‘Yes. Her lover.’

  He repeats the word not with anger nor even embarrassment, but to the police officers’ surprise, with sadness. Steele pauses and, for the first time, appears temporarily lost in his private thoughts.

  ‘I hope he was her lover,’ he adds quietly, ‘but I suspect he was not. She desperately needed someone to love her in the way she found so … elusive, yet by all accounts theirs was a pretty stormy relationship.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ asks Superintendent Hook. ‘You think her lover killed her?’

  ‘No, that is not what I’m saying,’ retorts Steele with some irritation. ‘The fact that she argued with this man — and made his life a misery at times, just as she did mine — is no more likely to make him kill her than it is to make me kill her. She was a difficult woman, that’s all. She infuriated almost everyone at some time.’

  ‘Where were you when you last saw her?’

  ‘At the house. She returned from this trip late in the afternoon.’

  ‘Was anyone else in the house?’

  ‘No. I think the children were at a friend’s house or at the park. Somewhere with the nanny, anyway.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘We had a row. I’m not sure of the details now, but I remember there was something about her sheets.’

  ‘Sheets?’

  ‘She took linen away with her to this place, a farmhouse or cottage or something where she used to meet him … Roddy Batchelor, that was his name. She went there quite often. She threw the sheets at me, in the kitchen. Told me to wash them for her.’

  ‘I expect that made you pretty angry,’ says Carr.

  ‘I expect it did,’ replies Steele. ‘I remember a shouting match followed, and she stormed off.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘More or less. The argument carried on upstairs while she fixed her makeup, then she picked up her keys and left.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘I have no idea. To meet him, I suppose. That’s where she said she was going.’

  ‘And she took her car?’

  ‘No. When they went off together, he’d often pick her up at the end of the road.’

  ‘Did she take anything with her?’

  ‘Her handbag, I suppose.’

  ‘No clothes, personal possessions…?’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’

  ‘Didn’t that surprise you?’

  ‘Not at all. She was like that — very histrionic. She loved the drama of it all. We hardly had a friend out of whose house she had not stalked in high dudgeon at some time or another.’

  ‘But when she didn’t come back, didn’t you think it odd? My wife wouldn’t go anywhere without her makeup, hair drier and so on.’

  ‘She would frequently disappear for days on end but, yes, after a few days I began to get worried, so I reported her missing.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At the local police house in the village. I’m sure they’ll have the records if you check.’

  ‘And what efforts did you make to trace her after that?’

  ‘None. To be honest, I’d had enough of her. And the children were much happier without her. I took the view that we were better off without her disrupting everything.’

  ‘But you said that you still loved her?’

  ‘So I did. But I couldn’t make her happy. I hoped someone else could.’

  ‘That’s very understanding of you,’ says the inspector, his tired voice displaying more disbelief.

  ‘I’m an understanding person,’ replies Steele, without arrogance, but with a gentle smile.

  Hook leans forward and speaks softly in Carr’s ear.
Carr nods. ‘Can you tell us about your movements during the two days that followed your wife’s disappearance?’

  ‘I’ll try. That evening, I remember, I stayed at home with the children. I thought she might come back and start smashing things up — she’d done that before — and I wanted to be around. The next day, we all went out to a fair on the heath. The following day I remember very well, as I went with my eldest son to his school near Taunton. I had made an appointment to see the headmaster. I drove down with my son, but the head was away on some emergency, and I decided to stay overnight and see him in the morning.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I felt that it was important. I’d fixed a number of other appointments, but either my commitments or his prevented us from meeting. I was worried about my son’s progress at the school, and seeing I was down there, I thought I’d make sure I saw the headmaster by waiting overnight.’

  ‘Where did you stay?’

  ‘At a local hotel. I can’t tell you the name, although it might be in one of my old diaries. I’d stayed there once or twice before.’

  ‘What did you do the following day?’

  ‘I saw the head and stayed at the school. I hadn’t intended to, but my son was pretty upset, and it was the day of his inter-house rugby tournament. He was playing, pretty reluctantly in fact, so I stayed to cheer him on. He scored the winning try in fact.’ There’s unmistakeable pride in Steele’s voice.

  ‘So there would’ve been a lot of people there who could corroborate your account?’ asks Hook.

  ‘There were many people there, but whether or not they’d remember whether I was there, thirteen years on, I doubt. My son would remember.’ He pauses. ‘Oh, but there is a photograph showing him holding the cup in one hand and shaking my hand with the other. In fact, come to think of it, as I was there, the head asked me to present the cup. I was the nearest thing they had to a celebrity. So perhaps someone would remember my presence.’

  ‘And where is that photograph?’

  ‘Hanging on the wall in my study at home.’

  ‘Would you have any objection to our searching your home?’ Steele doesn’t answer. ‘Sir?’ prompts the superintendent.

  ‘I think I should speak to my solicitor about that before I answer. Of course, if you have grounds, you’ll no doubt be able to obtain a search warrant. But I think, for the present, that I’d prefer to decline. If I agree, I can tell you that I’ll certainly want to be present when the search is conducted.’