Unnatural Wastage (14 page)

‘You mean, sir, he could claim that the killer, having stolen his knife, wore gloves when using it?' Rathbone suggested.

‘Exactly, Greg. Now, in one of the bins for recycling glass they've found a quantity of bottles with Fenella's prints on them, which confirms a comment made by one of her neighbours that she was “a bit of a lush”. It also explains why she disposed of them at a time when she imagined she'd be unobserved. Nothing new there, but more significantly, the CSIs found traces of blood on the front of the bin, which DNA tests show to be hers. Doc Hanley has already pointed out that as no major artery was severed most of the bleeding was internal; a small quantity had drained down on to the clothing but there were only minute traces on the black plastic bag she was found lying on. However –' at this point Leach leaned back and ran his gaze round his team, who were hanging on every word – ‘I'm sure you don't need me to tell you what this means.'

‘She was stabbed while she was feeding the bottles through the lid of the bin,' said Mike.

‘And the noise of breaking glass would have prevented her from hearing the killer approach,' added Penny.

‘Anything else?' Leach glanced round the row of faces. ‘Yes, Sukey?'

‘We've been assuming up to now, sir, that it was while she was putting rubbish in the skip that the killer stuck the knife in her back, heaved her up by her legs and bundled her over the edge.'

Leach nodded. ‘Go on.'

‘We know now that isn't the case; she was standing in front of one of the bins feeding in bottles when she was attacked, and the bins are a couple of yards or so from the skip where her body was found. So after he'd killed her the murderer had to pick her up and carry her to the skip.' As Sukey spoke it was as if a film of the killer at work was unrolling before her eyes. Without realizing what she was doing, she stood up and mimed the actions. ‘That meant he either had to open the lid of the skip and then go back for her, by which time she'd probably slumped to the ground, or he had to sling her over his shoulder, carry her to the skip, hold the lid open with one hand while heaving her inside. Whichever way he chose, some of her blood was transferred to the bin where the CSIs found it, and when he picked her up he must have got some of it on his clothing. Not a great deal on account of the nature of the wound of course, but maybe that's how it happened.' Feeling slightly embarrassed she sat down to a good-natured round of applause.

‘Very well put,' said Leach with a smile. ‘And that's where we've lost precious time. By now our man has either disposed of his soiled clothing, or more likely just put it through the wash or sent it to the cleaners. More leg work for the woodentops, I'm afraid.' A hand was raised. ‘Yes, Vicky?'

‘Excuse me, sir, was the knife in a sheath?'

‘Good question, Vicky. I was coming to that. The short answer is that according to Ellerman the knife was in an ornamental sheath when he bought it and that's how it was the last time he saw it – when of course he swears it was in its usual place in the display cabinet. Needless to say, finding the sheath is top priority. Meanwhile, let's hear what all of you have uncovered today. Penny and Mike, you've been to see the two Americans; did they have anything useful to add?'

‘Not really, sir,' said Mike. ‘They were both at the meeting in Ellerman's flat and they noticed the display cabinet, but neither of them could remember seeing a knife. It seems that like everyone else they were more interested in his art collection.'

‘So while everyone's attention was elsewhere, one of the people present could have stolen it?'

‘I suppose it's possible, sir.'

‘If that was the case, and it was stolen for the express purpose of topping Fenella, the next question is: who had a motive? Of that number, it appears that John Yardley had known her for longer than any of the others so he may be able to shed some light. Tim, you went to have another word with him about the meeting. Did he have anything to add?'

‘I asked him if he'd noticed the knife, of course. He seemed genuinely shocked at the notion that Ellerman might have used it to kill Fenella, but he certainly didn't remember seeing it and didn't add anything to what we already knew or have since learned. He was in a hurry to get rid of me though as he was “taking a lady out to lunch”.'

‘I think you'd better see him again when he's got more time to spare,' said Leach. ‘Right, now let's hear Vicky's report.' He listened intently as she recounted her conversation with Fenella's daughter. ‘OK,' he said when she had finished, ‘from what Nancy said it seems unlikely that Ellerman was one of her mother's lovers so that wouldn't seem a motive for killing her, but there remains the job rivalry. All the evidence so far still points to him as our prime suspect. Our top priority is to get our hands on the clothing he was wearing last Friday.' Leach picked up his phone and gave a series of instructions. ‘Now, Sukey, tell us what Jennifer Freeman had to say.'

‘She more or less confirmed what everyone else has been saying about the meeting in Ellerman's flat, sir. One little unexpected scrap of information emerged; she's working on a makeover for one of the public rooms at Holmwood Care Home. She's an interior designer, very glamorous and wears exotic clothes. I have a feeling she's having – or is maybe about to embark on – an affair with Brian Seaton. She looked a bit put out, to say the least, to hear that Fenella not only used to be a visitor there but had probably been having an affair with him.'

‘Well, at least she doesn't have to worry about competition for his affections,' commented Leach with a wry smile, and there were grins all round at this touch of gallows humour.

‘The things you learn when you turn over stones,' Rathbone remarked.

‘Yes indeed,' said Leach. ‘I've left you till last, Greg. I believe you've been digging into Ellerman's past. What have you turned up?'

‘A certain amount, sir, but I suspect I've only found the tip of the iceberg. For a start, he claims to have been a widower for about six years; I've done all the obvious searches but so far as I can ascertain he's never been married. He told us he lived with his wife in North Bristol and I tracked him down to a house in a rather exclusive area close to the Downs where he lived for several years with a young woman the neighbours took to be his wife. I spoke to a nice old lady called Mrs Thornton, who lives next door. She and her husband were already living there when a couple she referred to as Doctor and Mrs Ellerman moved in some time after the previous owner left. Mrs Thornton seems a kindly soul –' Rathbone referred to some notes – ‘she said, “I used to feel rather sorry for Mrs Ellerman as I thought her husband left her alone quite a lot and now and again I used to invite her round for coffee and a chat. I supposed he was visiting patients, which is understandable, and she certainly never complained about him – on the contrary, she was obviously very much in love with him and I took them for newly-weds. She was what you might call a bit reserved and she never returned my invitations.”'

‘Just a minute,' Leach interrupted. ‘Are you saying that at this time Ellerman was posing as a medical doctor?'

‘There's no reason to think he was, sir. Mrs Thornton said she simply assumed that to be the case. She was very surprised when I pointed out her mistake; she admitted that she knew very little about either of them. Incidentally, she never mentioned the Tremaine murder or even asked why we were interested in the Ellermans. She kept on about how she wasn't a nosy parker. “If folks want to tell me anything, that's up to them,” she told me. She did, however, go on to say something I think needs further investigation.'

‘All right, let's have it,' said Leach impatiently as Rathbone searched for another place in his notes.

‘From now on, sir, it's only conjecture on Mrs Thornton's part. Some time after they moved in she noticed that her neighbour had what she called “that sort of look about her” and mentioned to her husband that she thought she might be “expecting”. A little while later she was pretty sure, so, in the hope that she might volunteer the information, she issued an invitation for coffee which was politely declined. Reading between the lines – Mrs Thornton is a bit old-fashioned and I had the impression that she found talking about pregnancy with a man rather embarrassing – I think she put the refusal down to morning sickness and said she “quite understood”. Anyway, from then on she saw less and less of her presumably pregnant neighbour and when they did happen to meet she thought she looked “rather peaky” and feared things weren't going too well. At this point the Thorntons went on a longish holiday and when they returned the Ellermans had moved out and the house was up for sale. She asked a few of the neighbours where they'd gone but nobody knew anything; all they could say was that they'd seen a removal van with Ellerman directing the men, but there'd been no sign of his wife and in fact she hadn't been seen for some time before that.'

A thought struck Sukey and she raised a hand. ‘If they weren't married but just living together, sir, maybe the baby – if there was one – was a problem. I was thinking of Fenella,' she went on in response to Leach's raised eyebrow. ‘Her father abandoned her mother when she became pregnant; she blamed the child for ruining her marriage and never forgave her.'

‘So what are you saying?'

‘Maybe Ellerman told his partner to get rid of the baby. From what I've seen of him I'd say he wouldn't be overjoyed at the prospect of fatherhood. Maybe he insisted on an abortion and she died. He'd have had no compunction in calling himself a widower.'

‘How long ago was this?' asked Leach.

‘About six years ago according to Mrs Thornton,' said Rathbone.

‘He told us he'd been a widower for six years, sir,' said Penny, ‘so presumably that's when he moved to Sycamore Park.'

‘But why move?' asked Tim. ‘He could have told his neighbours his wife had died, shown some decent signs of grief and accepted their sympathy, and quietly got on with life.'

‘The flats in Sycamore Park are modest compared to the place he'd just moved out of,' said Rathbone. ‘We don't know what he was earning at Maxworth's at the time, but it would have to be a pretty hefty amount to live there. It's an expensive neighbourhood.'

‘Get details of his salary from Maxworth,' said Leach, ‘and check with a local estate agent about average outgoings for a comparable property. If there's an obvious discrepancy it may have been her money they were living on.'

‘Something else has just occurred to me, sir,' said Vicky. ‘From what Nancy said about her mother she led quite a colourful life and for all we know she may have had an unwanted pregnancy herself at some time. Supposing Ellerman's partner did have an abortion and Fenella somehow happened to meet her – maybe they were in the same clinic at the same time – and Fenella threatened to expose him. A bit of scandal like that wouldn't do much for his chances of the plum job at Maxworth's that he's hoping to land.'

‘But all this happened six years ago,' Rathbone pointed out.

‘True, and the job rivalry didn't exist at the time, but when it did, maybe she dropped a hint that she could make trouble for him unless he left the way clear for her.'

Leach was silent for some moments, thoughtfully tapping the file on his desk with the end of his ballpoint pen. ‘It's worth looking into,' he said at last. ‘Good thinking, Sukey. Maybe that's the motive we've been looking for. Greg, get your team to revisit those of the residents at Sycamore Park who seemed to have been on fairly friendly terms with Fenella. We know she did shopping for at least one housebound lady; she might have been invited in for a chat and let something drop.' He put down his pen and exhaled slowly. ‘It's a long shot, but it's worth a try. And call Ellerman in again and question him about the woman he was living with. We know she wasn't his wife but he appears to have cared for her enough to keep souvenirs from trips they made together. If she really is dead we need to know everything about her: her real name, her background, when and where she died, cause of death and anything else that strikes you as relevant.'

‘Will do, sir,' said Rathbone.

‘I suspect Mrs Thornton might have a bit more to tell us and she'd probably be more at ease talking to a woman. Give her details to Sukey, but certainly keep on digging in other directions.'

Before leaving, Sukey checked her phone and found one missed call. It was from Harry. ‘Can't wait to see you this evening. Have picked up a juicy titbit.' She sent a text to acknowledge the call and drove home full of anticipation. She had barely pulled up outside her flat when he appeared. He took her bag from her, together with her shopping, and followed her upstairs.

‘What's this juicy titbit you've got for me?' she asked as she slipped off her jacket.

‘First things first.' He held her close; for a while she responded willingly, but after a few moments curiosity overcame desire and she pulled away from him.

‘Tell me!' she demanded.

‘All right, if you insist. I had some spare time this afternoon after doing a report on a planning application not far from Holmwood, so as promised I popped in to see Major Howes. In the event we only had about ten minutes together – some egghead from the local history society was coming to give the residents a talk about the Clifton Suspension Bridge. He asked me if I'd like to go along and listen!'

‘It sounds riveting. Did you go?'

‘What do you think?

‘So what's this titbit the galloping major managed to pass on in the short time he could spare for you?'

‘He's suspected for a while that Brian Seaton has a roving eye and he's been keeping an eye on him for the past week or two. One day he came into the residents' lounge in company with a woman whom the major described as “quite an eyeful”. He didn't mention her name – or if he did the major couldn't recall it – but he told them that she was an interior designer who was going to give the lounge a complete makeover, by which they understood he meant new curtains, carpets, upholstery and so on. There's a gleam in your eye that tells me you're more interested in the eyeful than in me at the moment,' Harry added with feigned jealousy.