Unnatural Wastage (15 page)

‘Too right I am,' Sukey assured him, ‘but hang on to “at the moment”,' she added, giving him a quick hug and brushing her cheek against his. ‘So what else did the major observe?'

‘He said with a wink like a dig in the ribs that while the lady was talking colour schemes and waving samples under his nose, Seaton spent more time looking at her cleavage than the samples.'

Sukey punched the air in triumph. ‘I'll bet it was Jennifer Freeman of Décor for You!' she exclaimed. ‘She lives in Sycamore Park and I had to interview her this morning as part of the enquiry into the Fenella Tremaine murder.' Without giving away sensitive information, Sukey told Harry of her own suspicions about Jennifer's relationship with Seaton.

‘Shall I go and see the major again, when he's got more time for a chat?' said Harry.

‘Yes, please do. It's hard to see what bearing Seaton's philandering has on our enquiries, and the fact that two of his women live in the same block of flats may be no more than a coincidence, but I keep asking myself whether there's anything in Penny Osborne's theory.'

‘You mean that Carla Seaton might have killed Fenella out of jealous rage? But how could she possibly have got hold of the knife if it was in Ellerman's flat?'

‘I know it sounds impossible, but I've come across more bizarre connections in the past.'

Harry nodded. ‘Come to think of it, so have I. I take it we're not going to talk shop all evening,' he added, pulling her towards him. This time she did not resist.

‘I'
m really sorry to have to trouble you again, Mrs Thornton.'

A pair of surprisingly bright blue eyes set in a wrinkled face smiled up at Sukey through pink-framed spectacles. ‘It's no trouble, my dear. Do come in. I was just going to make a cup of coffee; would you like one?'

‘Thank you, that's very kind of you.'

‘Come this way.' Mrs Thornton showed Sukey into a sunny sitting room overlooking a typically English garden. A white-haired gentleman put down his newspaper and stood up to greet her. ‘My husband, Albert . . . Detective Constable Reynolds,' said his wife. ‘I'll go and fetch the coffee.' She bustled out of the room.

‘What a lovely garden!' Sukey exclaimed as she sat down in the chair Albert Thornton indicated. ‘And what beautiful roses!'

The old gentleman beamed. ‘They're my pride and joy! Do you like flowers?'

‘Oh yes! I don't have a garden – just a few pots on my patio, but roses are my favourites.'

‘Mine too. Ah, here's Edie with our coffee,' he added as she entered with a tray, served coffee and biscuits and eventually sat down herself.

‘I felt rather guilty not offering coffee to that nice sergeant who came before,' she said shyly, ‘but Albert was out playing golf and it didn't seem quite proper . . . the window cleaner was here and he's a real old gossip . . . I didn't want people to think—' She gave a self-conscious giggle as if entertaining a strange man in her husband's absence might arouse comment.

Albert Thornton winked at Sukey over the rim of his coffee cup. ‘She reckons she can still turn heads,' he said fondly. Sukey smiled politely and looked forward to passing this gem on to DS Rathbone.

‘Now, my dear,' said Edie Thornton, ‘you said you'd like to ask me a few more questions about the Ellermans.'

‘That's right. Sergeant Rathbone said he thought perhaps you'd be more comfortable talking to a woman.'

‘How very thoughtful of him. It's good that Albert's here as well, though. He thinks you might be interested in Mrs Ellerman's car.'

‘I'm interested in any information you can give me about either of them,' said Sukey. ‘I don't think Sergeant Rathbone said anything about her car.'

‘I don't think I mentioned it,' Edie admitted. ‘I suppose I noticed that she had one but even if I had told him, I wouldn't have been able to give him any details. I don't know anything about cars, as Albert will tell you.'

‘I doubt if she could tell you what car we have, even though we've had the same model for the past ten years,' he agreed with a chuckle.

‘So what can you tell me about Mrs Ellerman's car, sir?'

‘It was a silver grey Golf and I remember the last three letters on the registration plate were SAD. It struck me from what Edie said about her towards the end of their time here that it seemed somehow appropriate. I'm afraid I can't remember the numbers, but I have a feeling it was fairly new. I've written it all down for you.' He handed Sukey an envelope. ‘It's in here.'

‘That's a great help; thank you so much!' She put the envelope in her handbag. ‘Now, Mrs Thornton, I believe you told DS Rathbone that around the time you thought Mrs Ellerman was expecting a baby she started turning down your invitations to coffee. You said she wasn't looking very well and you thought she might be suffering from morning sickness.'

‘Well, I didn't exactly say that,' Mrs Thornton said hurriedly.

‘But that's what you thought?'

‘Well, yes.'

‘You could have been right. And around that time you and your husband went on a long holiday and came back to find the Ellermans gone and the house up for sale. When exactly was that?'

‘I'm afraid I couldn't remember the details after all this time.' Mrs Thornton cast a helpless look at her husband. ‘Perhaps Albert will know.'

‘That's easy.' Her husband went to a bureau and took out a folder. ‘It's all in here.' He began flicking through the contents. ‘It was a special trip to celebrate our ruby wedding and my retirement; we flew to New Zealand to visit our daughter and her family and we stayed with them for just over two weeks. Then we joined a cruise ship and came back by sea.'

‘Oh, it was such a lovely trip, wasn't it Albert?' His wife had been listening with a dreamy smile on her face.

‘I'm sure it was.' Sukey was beginning to think Rathbone must have found Mrs Thornton a somewhat frustrating witness. ‘But it would help us if we knew exactly when and for how long you were away,' she added.

‘A little over six weeks,' said her husband. ‘We left here on the fifteenth of March and arrived back home on the thirtieth of April.'

‘So it was some time between those dates that the Ellermans moved out,' said Sukey. ‘We know that it was around that time that he moved into his present address on his own.'

‘On his own? Oh dear!' Edie Thornton's face crumpled in dismay. ‘Do you suppose something went wrong with the baby and she died and he just couldn't bear to live here any more?'

‘We don't know yet what happened or why he moved,' said Sukey, ‘but we mean to find out. Did you happen to ask any of your neighbours if they could tell you the exact date?'

Albert Thornton shook his head. ‘I certainly didn't – chatting with neighbours is more in Edie's line.' He turned to his wife. ‘You did ask the lady at The Laurels, didn't you?'

Edie nodded. ‘You mean Mrs Parr, the music teacher? Yes, I did mention it to her but she couldn't remember exactly. We all thought it was odd, them disappearing like that without a word to anyone, but they'd never been what you'd call neighbourly so—'

‘I understand,' interrupted Sukey. ‘I get the impression that the Ellermans were younger than most of the people living round here. Is that right?'

‘Yes, I suppose so,' said Albert Thornton.

‘He was a few years older than her, though,' said Edie.

Sukey put away her notebook and stood up. ‘Well thank you very much for the coffee, and for being so helpful. By the way, do any of them still live here besides you . . . I mean the people who were here at the same time as the Ellermans?'

‘Oh yes, most of them in fact,' said Albert. He, too, stood up and moved as if to escort Sukey to the door, then stopped and took a pair of secateurs out of his pocket. ‘Just a moment,' he said. He opened the garden door, stepped outside and snipped a bud from the nearest rose bush. ‘For the lady who loves roses,' he said with a courtly little bow as he tucked it into Sukey's buttonhole.

Back in her car, Sukey called Rathbone. He was out so she left a message giving the details of the car that according to Albert Thornton had been driven by the woman living with Ellerman. ‘I managed to get a few other bits of useful information from the Thorntons – mainly from Mister T,' she added. ‘I think it's worth speaking to one or two of the other neighbours and that's what I'll be doing if you want to contact me.'

Sukey called first at The Laurels, one of half a dozen similar properties that formed a loop off a road skirting The Downs. She arrived just as a young woman was collecting a little girl carrying a violin case so she waited until the mother had installed the child in her car and driven away before ringing the doorbell, showing her ID and explaining the purpose of her visit.

Mrs Parr invited her into the entrance hall and closed the front door. ‘I'm afraid I can't be of much help,' she said. ‘We all knew the Ellermans by sight, of course, although Edie Thornton was the only one who had much to do with them. She's a very friendly soul; she called round soon after they moved in to welcome them and offer helpful information about the neighbourhood and so on, but I gather she got the impression that Doctor Ellerman politely told her they had all they needed thank you very much. They pretty well kept themselves to themselves and I suppose we all assumed it was because they were newly-weds and were quite happy to be on their own. And of course they were quite a bit younger than most of us.'

‘About how long were they living there?'

‘I don't recall exactly. There was an old man – a Mr Armitage, a widower – who'd lived there for years. When his wife died he went to live in a home and the house stood empty for a while.'

‘Presumably it went up for sale?'

Mrs Parr thought for a moment. ‘No, I don't believe it did – or at least, there was never a For Sale board outside.'

‘Perhaps it was sold before the agent got around to putting one up,' Sukey suggested. ‘Going back to the Ellermans, would you say they were happy as a couple?'

Mrs Parr shrugged. ‘Who can say? He used to be out during the day but now and again I saw them going out together and they seemed all right. I'm out myself quite a lot – I teach music at several schools, so I don't . . .' She spread her slim, tapering fingers in a slightly theatrical gesture that seemed to say ‘I have my own life to lead; what other people do is no concern of mine.'

‘I know this is going back about six years, but can you remember anything about the time they moved out of the house called The Laburnums?'

‘I can't tell you the exact date, but I believe the removal company was Bryant and Wheeler.'

‘Thank you; that could be a great help,' said Sukey. ‘I don't suppose you remember the name of the estate agent who handled the sale?'

‘I do as it happens; it was Melton and Keen. They handle quite a lot of properties round here; in fact we bought this house through them.' Mrs Parr gave Sukey a searching look. ‘You told me this is in connection with a murder enquiry. Would that be the woman who was found stabbed in Sycamore Park? It said in the
Echo
that a man has been questioned and released on bail – would that be Doctor Ellerman by any chance?'

‘I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything that hasn't been officially released,' said Sukey. She turned to leave. ‘Thank you very much for your help.'

Mrs Parr was about to close the door behind her when she reopened it and called her back. ‘Just a moment,' she said, ‘I've thought of something else you might be interested in. I seem to remember seeing Mrs Ellerman there with another man some time before she and her husband moved in.'

‘Someone from the estate agent?' Sukey suggested.

‘I don't think so; they came together in his car and they seemed to know each other.'

‘Can you describe him or the car?'

Mrs Parr shook her head. ‘It was over eight years ago,' she pointed out. ‘I had the impression he was quite a bit older than her and he drove an expensive-looking car.'

‘Do you remember the colour?'

‘I have a feeling it was dark red, but I can't be sure.'

‘I see. Well, thank you once again for your help,' said Sukey warmly. She made a few notes before heading for the next house.

‘This is intolerable, Sergeant!' Jason Pollard glared across the table at DS Rathbone. ‘Isn't it enough that my client has been placed on police bail on the flimsiest of circumstantial evidence without this intrusion into his private grief? Can't you see how distressing this is for him?' He indicated Ellerman, who sat with his hands in his lap and his head slightly bowed.

Penny Osborne, seated beside Rathbone, was struck by the change in his demeanour since the first time she saw him. Then, he had been self-assured to the point of arrogance, even casting flirtatious glances in her direction; later, when caught out in lies and unable to give a convincing account of his movements at the time of Fenella Tremaine's murder, he had become less and less sure of himself.

‘Murder is a distressing business,' said Rathbone drily. ‘Now, we know that one woman is dead and that your client was closely associated with her. We also know that six years ago he was living in a house in North Bristol called The Laburnums with a woman some years younger than himself. At about this time the woman – whom the neighbours naturally assumed to be his wife – appeared to be pregnant, but looked to a concerned neighbour to be unwell, declined invitations similar to those she had accepted in the past, and in fact was not seen again. Subsequently your client put The Laburnums on the market and moved to his present address in Sycamore Park.'

‘My client has already told you that his wife died about six years ago,' said Pollard. ‘What possible relevance can her death have to your enquiries?'