Unnatural Wastage (16 page)

‘The fact is that your client is lying,' said Rathbone. ‘He claims to be a widower, but is unable to produce either a marriage or a death certificate to support the claim and has refused to give us any information about the woman with whom he was living. Moreover, we have not so far found anyone who has seen or heard from her since your client left The Laburnums.' He turned to Ellerman. ‘We shall of course find all this out for ourselves, but it would save us a lot of time and trouble if you would tell us the truth.'

Ellerman raised his head and looked directly at Rathbone. ‘All right, I admit Julie and I weren't married,' he said, ‘but when she died it felt like being widowed. That's all I can say.'

Before Rathbone had a chance to put a further question, Pollard laid a hand on his client's arm. ‘Sergeant,' he said sternly, ‘are you seriously implying that in addition to suspecting my client of murdering Fenella Tremaine – for which you have failed to establish the slightest vestige of a motive – he also caused the death of the woman he loved?'

Rathbone ignored the interruption. He showed no sign of being moved by what seemed to Penny to be genuine emotion. ‘What did Julie die of?' he asked.

‘She had a miscarriage.'

‘What was her full name and when and where did she die?'

Ellerman made a dismissive gesture. ‘That's all I'm saying. Other people will be hurt if this gets out.'

‘If there's anything suspicious about Julie's death it most certainly will get out.' Rathbone's tone was harsh and his manner without pity. ‘All right, that's all for now.'

At the end of the afternoon the team foregathered as usual in DCI Leach's office for the daily debriefing. When he had heard all their reports he gave a sigh of resignation. ‘We've obviously got a lot more work to do. It's a pity Thornton couldn't recall the complete registration number of Julie's car, but at least he's given us something to go on. In any case, if she is dead it will have been sold on, probably through a local dealer. We'll need to trace the man who took her to the house shortly after Mr Armitage moved out. Maybe they were all related and he let the house to her. Greg –' he turned to DS Rathbone – ‘did you get any joy from Maxworth's about Ellerman's salary at the relevant time?'

‘Not yet, sir, but they're working on it,' said Rathbone with a hint of resignation. ‘It was about the time Anton Maxworth was trying to persuade his uncle to computerize the accounts department and things were a bit chaotic.'

‘Stone walls at every turn,' said Leach, ‘but with just a few chinks to give us hope.' He glanced at the calendar on his desk. ‘Friday tomorrow – exactly a week since the night Fenella died. It would be good if we had a breakthrough by the weekend. Keep at it, troops!'

Soon after Sukey reached home there was a call from Harry. ‘There's a bit of late news that I think will interest you,' he said. ‘Is it OK if I pop round?'

‘Of course. Love to see you.' She slipped off her jacket, gently took the white rosebud from the buttonhole and went to find a vase. She had just set it on a low table by the sitting room window when he arrived. ‘Look what a handsome gentleman witness gave me as a token of his esteem!' she said teasingly.

‘Very nice,' he said. ‘Don't you want to hear this hot bit of news?'

‘Of course I do, but you might at least pretend to be jealous.'

‘Never mind the small talk; this is serious.' He showed her a mock-up of the next day's early edition of the
Echo
and pointed to an item under the headline: ‘Car Leaves Road and Hits Wall – Woman Driver Killed.'

Sukey read the report with growing consternation. ‘It names the victim as Jennifer Freeman,' she said, ‘and the scene of the accident is only a mile or so from Holmwood. There's nothing here to say what time it happened. I know she was going there after I interviewed her yesterday morning; was it on her way there or on her way back?'

‘Does it make a difference?'

‘It might.'

T
here was no breakthrough before the weekend. Meanwhile, uniformed police officers continued their search for the sheath that had contained Marcus Ellerman's knife and Rathbone's team continued to hunt for any possible link between him and Fenella Tremaine that might suggest a motive for murder. Regret was expressed by members of the team at the death of Jennifer Freeman, but it was generally accepted that enquiries into the cause of the accident were a matter for the traffic division and of no concern to the CID. Only Sukey had her reservations, which for the time being she shared with no one in the team but Vicky when, together with the rest of the team, they returned to the CID office late on Monday.

‘I keep telling myself it isn't feasible,' she admitted, ‘but I can't get rid of the feeling that somewhere there's a link. From some of today's headlines, the red tops would certainly like to think so,' she added.

‘Link between what?' asked Vicky.

‘Remember Penny's suggestion that Carla Seaton might have killed Fenella because of her affair with her husband?'

‘And was shot down in flames by the Sarge?' Vicky grinned.

‘Yes, well, having met Carla I think we're both prepared to believe she's capable of murder, but it's hard to see how she could have got her hands on Marcus Ellerman's knife, let alone have known when and where she'd have a chance to use it. As for Jennifer Freeman's accident, I know she was going to Holmwood on Wednesday morning after I interviewed her; if it happened on the way there, it's hard to see how Carla could have caused it, but if it was on the way back . . .'

‘Well, the boys in traffic division will soon find out if there was anything suspicious about it,' said Vicky. ‘It sounds pretty far-fetched to me, but knowing what you're like, you won't let it rest until you find the answer. My money's still on Ellerman as Fenella's killer and Jennifer's accident having nothing to do with the case. Ah, here's the Sarge; I think we're being summoned to the presence.'

‘It comes as no surprise,' said DCI Leach when they were all assembled in his office, ‘that certain sections of the media are hinting at some kind of ghoulish connection between Jennifer Freeman, Fenella Tremaine and the man we've been interviewing in the latter's murder. “Serial Killer at Large?” is a typical headline. Needless to say, we've done our best to discourage that sort of speculation; this morning's press release warned against causing panic among women living alone and stressing that we're following a number of leads . . . hundreds of officers working on the case . . . appeals for anyone with information to come forward . . . the usual stuff. It seems from your verbal reports that we've made some progress. Greg, you go first.'

‘I checked first of all with the management company at Sycamore Park, sir,' Rathbone began. ‘I'd assumed that Ellerman moved into the flat where he's now living when he left The Laburnums, but it turned out that he actually bought the lease on the flat about twelve years ago and lived there for a while – maybe three or four years; I haven't been able to establish the exact dates – and then moved out. Presumably that was when he moved into The Laburnums with Julie, but it turns out he didn't sell the flat, he rented it to a couple who lived there until he went back after her death. Incidentally, he joined Maxworth's at about the time he first moved in.'

‘Have you spoken to anyone in Sycamore Park who remembers that far back?' asked Leach.

‘Unfortunately not, sir. Only a handful of the people living there now have been there longer than five years.'

‘Hm.' Leach tapped his front teeth with his ballpoint pen. ‘There's one aspect of Ellerman's character that's been puzzling me over the weekend. He came across at first as arrogant and full of self-assurance, and most of the people we've interviewed have said the same. He also likes to make out he's a bit of a ladykiller, but no one has mentioned seeing him out with a woman, or seen women calling on him. Julie obviously fell for him in a big way – enough to move in with him and get pregnant. Sukey, I believe you've managed to find out a bit more about her.'

‘Yes, sir, I went to see old Mr Armitage, the previous owner of The Laburnums. The neighbours thought he'd gone into residential care, but it turns out he's living in sheltered accommodation and still has a degree of independence. It was rather an emotional interview because Julie was his granddaughter and his only living relative. He absolutely doted on her and was heartbroken when she died.'

‘So she is dead?'

‘Oh yes, sir, but it wasn't from a miscarriage. Julie went to him in great distress one day and told him she was pregnant. She'd expected Ellerman to be delighted, but instead he told her to have an abortion because he didn't want to be bothered with a child. He said in effect it was either that or it was all over between them. The old man was shocked, of course, and tried to persuade her to have the baby and he'd look after them both, but she was completely besotted with Ellerman and said she would go along with whatever he wanted. So she had the abortion, but soon after picked up an infection from it. Unfortunately, she attributed the heavy bleeding and pains to the abortion itself and didn't seek medical attention. A couple of days later she went into toxic shock syndrome, and by the time she got to the hospital it was too late to save her, even with antibiotics. Unsurprisingly, Mr Armitage blames Ellerman for the delay in getting Julie treatment.' Sukey checked her notebook. ‘Mr Armitage said, “I couldn't believe what a heartless swine he turned out to be, but he fooled me completely. He came across as a decent sort with a steady job who really cared for Julie.”'

‘How did Julie and Ellerman come to be living in The Laburnums?'

‘Apparently Ellerman said his flat was too small for the two of them and as Julie's grandfather was moving out anyway after the death of his wife he let them live there while they looked for another place, although they don't seem to have spent much time looking. They went on a few foreign trips, which confirms what Ellerman told us. Naturally after Julie died the old gentleman booted Ellerman out and he just gave his tenants notice and went back to his own place. The poor gentleman broke down several times while he was telling me all this and I felt really guilty at upsetting him.'

‘You obviously handled it very well to get him to confide in you so much,' said Leach. ‘Good work, Sukey. So that's another lie Ellerman has told us.'

‘May I say something else, sir?'

‘Go ahead.'

‘I didn't make any reference to Fenella Tremaine's murder and neither did Mr Armitage, but when I got up to go he said, “Good luck with your enquiries; I hope the swine gets what's coming to him.”'

‘You think he guessed what prompted your visit?'

‘I'm sure of it, sir. It so happens he'd been reading one of the tabloids when I got there.'

‘I don't imagine he's the only one. The only reason Ellerman's name hasn't been mentioned in any of the media reports is that one or two editors are still counting the cost of a previous indiscretion. Vicky. Let's hear from you. Was Nancy able to add anything?'

‘Not really, sir. If Fenella did have an abortion at any time it would have been some years ago as she was past normal childbearing age when she was killed. Nancy has no recollection of her mother having her appendix out, which is probably how it would have been explained to a child, but of course it might have happened while Nancy was away at school.'

‘In which case it was probably long before Fenella met Ellerman,' said Leach. ‘I don't think we need pursue that line any further. Penny?'

‘I checked with Sergeant Drury, sir; he's in charge of uniformed at Sycamore Park and he said they've been calling on the residents and enquiring about who was wearing what on the night of the murder. Obviously they're looking for a man, preferably one who corresponds roughly to the description given by Ms Springfield. So far they haven't encountered any opposition; most people claimed they couldn't remember; one or two gentlemen handed over what they thought they might have been wearing and that's been sent to forensics.'

‘It'll be a while before we get any results back,' said Leach, ‘and to be frank I'm none too optimistic, but we have to keep trying.' At that moment his telephone rang. ‘Leach . . . that's great news . . . well done!' He put down the phone. ‘That was Sergeant Drury. Someone has handed in what he's ninety per cent sure is the sheath belonging to Ellerman's knife.'

Five minutes after Sukey arrived home that evening Harry rang her doorbell.

‘It's lovely to see you,' she said as she let him in. ‘How was your weekend?' Harry had taken his father on a visit to one of his cousins in Lancashire.

‘All right. We watched some good cricket but there's something else I'd much rather have been doing.' He set about proving the truth of this statement and she was in no hurry to discourage him. Eventually, when he allowed her to draw breath, she said softly, ‘You smell lovely and fresh – have you just showered?'

‘As it happens, I have. I needed it after the journey.'

‘I think I'll do the same. I won't be long.'

‘You do that and then I'll tell you what I've planned for this evening.' His kiss left her in no doubt what plans he had in mind.

Later, as they drank a glass of wine over the remains of a casserole she had prepared over the weekend, he said, ‘Have there been any developments in the Tremaine murder?'

‘As it happens, there have. It'll be officially announced at tomorrow's press briefing.'

‘You mean I have to wait till then?'

‘If I tell you, will you promise not to rush home and call your editor?'