Unnatural Wastage (19 page)

‘I advise you not to repeat that to anyone,' said Sukey. ‘Meanwhile, thank you for the information.' She put down the phone and turned to Rathbone. ‘Yes, Sarge, Jennifer did have lunch with the Seatons and Hazel believes Carla could have murdered her.'

‘OK, so we tick that box,' he replied.

‘So shall Vicky and I go to Holmwood now?'

‘Not for the moment.' He got to his feet. ‘While you were talking to Hazel we had a call from reception. We have a new witness in the Fenella Tremaine case – Douglas Cowell. He's in interview room three.'

The new witness was a well-built man in his early thirties with dark, neatly cut hair and steel-grey eyes. Rathbone took a seat opposite him with Vicky on his right and Sukey on his left. Rathbone performed the introductions before saying, ‘Mr Cowell, I see from your business card that you are a professional bodyguard. You say you have information concerning Fenella Tremaine. Do we understand that she hired you to protect her?'

Cowell gave a faint smile and shook his head. ‘The fact is, Sergeant, guarding bodies isn't exactly a full-time occupation and I need something else to fill in the gaps. Here's my alternative business card.'

‘Douglas Cowell, Private Investigator.' Rathbone read aloud. ‘I won't ask you to explain how you manage to keep these two plates in the air without dropping one of them,' he said drily, ‘but if you have any information that may help in our investigations, please tell us.'

‘A couple of months ago,' Cowell began, ‘I was approached by a woman who suspected her husband of having an affair. I followed him and before long I observed him in what appeared to be compromising situations with a woman. I took photographs and gave them to my client.' He took an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Rathbone. ‘The dates and venues are on the back of each shot.'

The three detectives studied the pictures in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Vicky said, ‘Fenella Tremaine and Brian Seaton. The first was taken at the end of June, the second a week later and the third about ten days before Fenella was murdered. Were these the only meetings you observed?'

‘Yes.'

‘The last one – the one in the restaurant – doesn't appear to have been very relaxed,' Rathbone remarked.

‘That was my impression,' said Cowell. ‘In fact, the body language suggests that he was trying to dump her and she was pleading with him not to.'

‘Which confirms what those two other witnesses told us,' Sukey mouthed at Vicky behind Rathbone's back.

‘What was the name of your client?' asked Rathbone.

‘Mrs Carla Seaton. I delivered the pictures to her, she appeared satisfied, paid my fee and as far as I was concerned that was the end of the matter.'

Rathbone returned the photographs to the envelope. ‘We need to keep these as evidence,' he said. ‘We'll give you a receipt.'

‘No problem,' said Cowell.

‘It's nearly two weeks since Fenella Tremaine was murdered,' Rathbone continued. ‘Why haven't you come forward earlier?'

‘I've been in Europe on bodyguard duty. When I'm in England I check the papers every day to see if there's anything relevant to one of my enquiries. If I'm sent abroad I make a point of catching up when I come home.'

‘I see. Well, sir, thank you very much for your help. We have not, of course, recorded this interview, but my colleagues will prepare a statement based on the information you have given us and we'd be most appreciative if you would sign it.'

‘No problem,' Cowell repeated. ‘Glad to be of help.'

T
he two detectives showed their IDs to the woman who opened the door to Holmwood Care Home. Her white overall had the monogram HCH embroidered on the pocket. ‘We'd like to see Mr and Mrs Seaton,' said Rathbone.

The woman hesitated. ‘I'm not sure if they're available,' she said doubtfully. ‘If you'd care to . . .'

She waved a hand at some chairs in the small reception area behind her, but without giving her time to finish Rathbone said, ‘Then we'll wait until they are. Just inform them we're here, please.' He sat down and beckoned Sukey to an adjacent chair.

The woman scurried away. Several minutes ticked past before Carla Seaton appeared. Her face was flushed and to Sukey's experienced eye she appeared agitated. ‘I intend to lodge a complaint, Sergeant,' she began. ‘This constable and her female colleague –' she gestured in Sukey's direction without taking her gaze from Rathbone – ‘gave my husband and me a firm undertaking that they found nothing to complain of in our treatment of Mrs Donaldson and were advising her son that we had no case to answer. Perhaps,' she went on, ‘you are here to offer an apology for harassing my staff . . . or perhaps that's too much to hope for,' she added with a slight curl of her lip.

Rathbone stood up and Sukey did the same. ‘If you wish to make a complaint about our officers' previous visit I suggest you put it in writing to the Chief Constable,' he said. ‘It so happens that we are here today on an entirely different matter.'

‘What matter? Has there been another complaint?'

‘Is your husband available?'

‘My husband is busy. I assure you I am perfectly capable of dealing with any matter you wish to raise.'

‘I'm afraid it's essential that we speak to both of you.' Rathbone made shooing movements with his hands to indicate that she should lead him and Sukey to her husband. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, but after a moment's hesitation she complied.

‘They want to see us both,' she snapped as she flung open the office door and slammed it shut behind the detectives when they had entered. ‘They wouldn't tell me anything. It's nothing short of harassment . . . you must write to the Chief Constable!'

‘Suppose we wait to hear what they've got to say,' Seaton suggested. He was plainly startled by the unexpected arrival of the police, but managed to summon a smile and invited them to sit down. He sat behind the desk and his wife took a chair beside him. ‘What can we do for you, Sergeant?'

‘We are looking into the circumstances of the road accident that took place shortly before three o'clock on the afternoon of Wednesday the thirty-first of July, in which Ms Jennifer Freeman was fatally injured. We understand she paid you a visit on the morning of that day.'

Husband and wife exchanged glances before Seaton said, ‘That is correct. She was here on business. We read about it in the papers . . . a very tragic accident.'

‘Ah yes, on business,' Rathbone repeated, with emphasis on the last word. ‘After the report of the accident appeared in the press we received an anonymous call from a man who stated that she had been at a business meeting, but gave no details.' He fixed a penetrating gaze on Seaton. ‘Would that have been you, sir?'

‘My husband is not in the habit of making anonymous telephone calls,' said his wife.

‘Perhaps he'd care to answer for himself.' Rathbone turned back to Seaton. ‘Sir?'

‘I assure you, Sergeant, that the call did not come from me,' Seaton replied firmly. ‘I can confirm that Ms Freeman had an appointment here at eleven o'clock on that day to show us some fabric samples. We have awarded her firm a contract to replace the curtains and reupholster the chairs in the residents' lounge.'

‘How long did the meeting last?'

Seaton hesitated, but his wife was quick to answer. ‘Approximately an hour.'

‘Until about midday?'

‘About then, I suppose.'

‘Did she have another appointment?'

‘She might have done. She didn't say.'

‘Did you offer her any refreshment while she was here?' asked Sukey.

Carla shot her a disdainful look before saying, ‘We had coffee in the office while we were discussing the details of the contract.'

‘Who made the coffee?'

Carla made an impatient gesture. ‘One of the domestic staff.' She turned back to Rathbone. ‘Really, Sergeant, what on earth has all this to do with Ms Freeman's tragic accident?'

‘How did Ms Freeman take her coffee?' asked Rathbone. ‘With milk and sugar?'

Seaton looked enquiringly at his wife, who said, ‘I don't remember. What difference does it make?'

‘So the business discussion ended at approximately midday. What happened next?'

‘Ms Freeman put her samples away and was preparing to leave when Carla asked her if she would like to stay for lunch,' said Seaton.

‘Was this an impromptu invitation on your wife's part or had you agreed on it beforehand?'

‘Carla said nothing about it in advance, but of course I was more than happy to endorse it.'

‘We already know about the invitation,' said Sukey. ‘I spoke to Ms Freeman's assistant this morning and she told me about it. She said Carla Seaton had apologized for being “a bit unpleasant” at an earlier meeting and had invited her “by way of making amends”. What do you think she meant by “a bit unpleasant”, Mrs Seaton?'

Carla made what seemed to Sukey a conscious effort to convey a conciliatory attitude. ‘You must understand,' she said, in milder tones, ‘that I have a very demanding and responsible position and there are times when I tend to get a little short-tempered. I apologized for any apparent discourtesy on my part during our initial discussions and I wanted to make it clear there was nothing personal intended.'

‘Of course there wasn't; it was a very nice gesture on your part, dear,' said her husband.

‘All the more unfortunate that it had such a disastrous sequel,' Rathbone remarked. ‘Do you remember what food you served?'

‘We had the same menu as the residents. Do you want me to check?'

‘Yes, please.'

Seaton consulted his computer. ‘We had shepherd's pie with fresh vegetables, followed by fruit salad and cream.'

‘What about drinks?'

‘We offered her a sherry, but she declined. Then she caught sight of a bottle of Campari on the sideboard and said, “Oh, my favourite poison! May I have that?”'

‘Did she drink it neat or with soda?'

‘She had a splash of soda, but she said, “Not too much, I like the bitter flavour.”'

‘How many drinks did she have?'

‘She accepted a second Campari, but after that she drank only water.'

‘I see. That confirms the pathologist's findings that the level of alcohol in her blood was well below the legal limit. You may have heard that the inquest was held yesterday and the coroner was naturally anxious to establish the precise cause of the accident.' Rathbone paused briefly to give the Seatons an opportunity to comment, but neither of them spoke. ‘Since certain questions remained unanswered, it was adjourned pending further enquiries, which is why we are here. Mrs Seaton –' at this point he fixed his gaze directly on her – ‘among your residents there must be many who are prescribed medication by their doctors. Who has charge of the drugs – the patients?'

She appeared surprised, and to Sukey almost relieved, by the sudden change in the line of questioning. ‘Certainly not,' she said crisply. ‘All prescriptions are handed to me or my husband and we order the drugs from a local pharmacy.'

‘And they are delivered to you here?'

‘Yes. As a qualified nurse I take responsibility for all drugs. I keep them under lock and key and dispense them to the patients in accordance with their doctors' instructions.'

‘You give them to each patient yourself?'

‘Either I do it personally or I instruct another suitably qualified member of staff. In any case, we have to make sure that patients actually take their medication. Some of them are a bit vague so we have to keep an eye on them,' she added.

‘By the way –' the tone was deceptively casual – ‘do any of your residents complain of night cramps?'

‘None of them has complained to me.'

‘My mother used to be disturbed by cramp in her legs,' said Sukey. ‘Her doctor prescribed quinine tablets; she said they were a great help.'

‘Current medical opinion advises against the use of quinine for cramp,' said Carla.

‘So it hasn't been prescribed for any of your residents?'

‘Definitely not.' She glanced pointedly at her watch. ‘Have you any further questions?'

‘Thank you,' said Rathbone. He stood up. ‘That's all for now. We'll see ourselves out,' he added as Seaton half rose from his chair.

‘Do you think Seaton was telling the truth when he denied making that anonymous call, Sarge?' asked Sukey as they went back to their car.

‘I do, as it happens, although like you I thought he seemed the most likely person. Could it have been one of the residents?'

‘It's possible, I suppose,' said Sukey, mentally resolving to check with Harry if he had spoken to Major Howes recently, ‘but what would be the point unless the caller suspected something?' A thought struck her. ‘So far we've only seen female staff; I wonder if there are any male employees here?'

‘There's probably an odd-job man, or a gardener. Speaking of which . . .' Rathbone pointed across the front garden to where a man was hoeing one of the flower beds.

Sukey stopped in the act of clipping on her seat belt. ‘Shall we go and have a word?'

‘Later, when we come back.'

‘When are we coming back?'

‘As soon as we can get hold of a search warrant.'

‘So what's new?' asked Vicky as Sukey settled down at her computer.

‘Plenty,' Sukey replied. ‘Let's grab some lunch when I've finished my report and I'll fill you in with the details. The plot is definitely thickening.' She finished her report, emailed it to DCI Leach and the rest of the team, and then made two phone calls, one to Harry and the other to Hazel Norton. She sat back and flexed her arms. ‘Ready when you are,' she said to Vicky. They made their way down to the canteen and joined the queue. ‘What sort of a morning have you had, by the way?'