Unnatural Wastage (3 page)

‘Well, he's not there now,' said Rathbone.

‘One of the residents –' at this point the sergeant referred again to his notebook – ‘a gentleman called Marcus Ellerman, went over and spoke to him. He asked me if it would be OK to take him into his flat and give him a drop of something to calm him down as the poor chap was really shaken up. I agreed as long as they both waited in Mr Ellerman's flat – that's number sixteen on the fourth floor of this block – until someone from CID called to take a statement. As a matter of fact,' the sergeant added, ‘I was quite glad to get Ellerman out of the way. He's an officious type; he kept demanding to know what had happened. Once he left the scene the rest of the ghouls became a bit more amenable.'

‘Right, we'd better have a word with both of them. Flat sixteen, I think you said?'

The door was opened by a well-built man with a tanned complexion and thick, iron-grey hair. He was wearing fawn trousers and an open-necked shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, revealing tanned and muscular forearms. Sukey guessed his age at somewhere in the mid or late forties.

‘Mr Marcus Ellerman?'

‘It's Doctor Ellerman. Who wants to know?'

‘Detective Sergeant Rathbone and Detective Constable Sukey Reynolds.' The two held up their IDs, which Ellerman scrutinized carefully. He looked for a second time at Sukey's and remarked with evident approval, ‘Your mugshot doesn't do you justice!' before standing aside to admit them.

‘As you have already heard, sir,' Rathbone began, ‘the caretaker, Frederick Wilkins, discovered a woman's body two or three hours ago.'

‘That's right. According to Wilkins it's that of Fenella Tremaine, a resident here. She lives – lived – in flat number thirty.'

‘The victim has not yet been officially identified, sir, but we shall be very grateful for any information you can give us. Now, I understand that as Wilkins appeared to be in some distress you obtained permission from Sergeant Drury to allow him to wait in your flat until our arrival.'

‘That's right. He's in here.' Ellerman led them into a spacious sitting room with windows overlooking the gardens. ‘Wilkins, the police are here. They want to talk to you.'

A man of about his own age, somewhat leaner and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, hastily got to his feet. ‘I don't know anything about it,' he said in a tremulous voice. ‘I hardly knew the lady, so why would I murder her?'

‘What makes you think she was murdered?' said Rathbone.

‘I heard one of the paramedics say something about a knife.' He glanced at Ellerman. ‘You heard it too, didn't you, sir?'

‘I did. And these two –' he gestured at the two detectives beside him – ‘wouldn't be here if it wasn't murder.' He swung round and said, ‘That's right, isn't it?'

‘Not necessarily, sir.' Sukey sensed that it gave Rathbone a certain satisfaction at being able to contradict him. ‘The CID are called in to investigate any unexplained or suspicious death, but it doesn't always turn out to be murder.'

‘Let's not split hairs. Just get on with your questions so that Wilkins can go home.'

‘An excellent suggestion, sir,' said Rathbone. ‘We'll escort him there.' He went over to Wilkins, who was still on his feet and fiddling nervously with the handkerchief with which he had been wiping sweat from his hands. ‘All we need at this stage is for you to tell us exactly what happened, but I dare say you'll feel more comfortable in your own place. Am I right?'

Wilkins nodded. His relief was evident and Sukey guessed that he found Ellerman intimidating. ‘Yes, Sergeant.'

‘We shall, of course, need a statement from you as well, sir,' Rathbone told Ellerman as he showed them out.

‘Naturally.' The tone was curt and the manner unfriendly. Sukey sensed that he had been hoping to be present while Wilkins was being questioned. ‘I'll be in for the rest of the evening.'

In the modest living room of the caretaker's flat an armchair was positioned facing the window. Beside it was a low table on which stood a plate and a mug, both empty, suggesting that the caretaker had been eating a meal while enjoying the view across the garden.

Wilkins picked up the used crockery and cutlery with a mumbled apology. ‘Excuse me while I put these in the kitchen. Please sit down.'

The detectives sat on a couch and waited. Wilkins returned a moment later and turned his chair round to face them.

‘Right, Mr Wilkins,' said Rathbone. ‘I understand that when you saw Ms Tremaine lying in the skip, your first thought was that she'd been taken ill?'

‘That's right. That's why I called the ambulance.'

‘How did you suppose she got in there?'

Wilkins passed a hand over his forehead. ‘I . . . I don't know . . . I didn't think,' he said hesitantly. ‘My first thought was that she needed help. It never entered my head that she was dead, let alone murdered. Then I heard that talk about a knife in her back – is that really true?'

‘I can confirm that we are investigating a murder,' said Rathbone, ‘and the murder weapon was a knife – one of a somewhat unusual design, possibly oriental. Full details will be issued to the media and naturally the public will be asked if they recognize it.' He leaned forward and fixed Wilkins with a direct stare. ‘Do you happen to own a knife that might answer that description?'

The caretaker met the gaze without flinching. ‘No, Sergeant,' he said firmly.

‘Or have you seen anything like it? In one of the residents' flats, for example?'

This time Sukey noticed a momentary hesitation before Wilkins replied, ‘I hardly ever go into any of the flats.'

Rathbone nodded. ‘I see. Now, according to what you told the police, you thought she must have been taken ill while throwing a bag of rubbish into the skip, overbalanced and fallen in.' He paused for a moment before saying, ‘That's a bit unlikely, don't you think? The skip must be at least four feet high – anyone of normal height would have to be standing on something to lean over the edge and just topple in.'

Wilkins' brow puckered and he shook his head. ‘I suppose so, but I didn't stop to think . . . I mean, I just opened the skip, threw in the bag of rubbish and went to close the lid . . . and then I saw her lying there and called nine nine nine on my mobile.'

‘What time was this?' asked Rathbone.

‘Some time after two – I don't remember exactly.'

‘Is that your normal time for taking rubbish to the skip?'

‘No, and it isn't even my usual day. The residents leave their bags of rubbish outside their front doors and I pick them up every morning from Monday to Friday, put them on my barrow and wheel it to the skip.'

‘And today's Saturday, so why were you there this afternoon?' asked Sukey.

‘I had some rubbish of my own to get rid of and I wanted to get it out of the way.'

‘What kind of rubbish?'

‘I'm redecorating my spare room and I spent this morning stripping off the wallpaper. After I'd had my lunch I put it all with some other stuff into one of the black plastic bags we use and carried it to the tip.'

‘Now, Mr Wilkins,' said Rathbone, ‘I want you to think very carefully and tell me exactly what you did when you entered the shed where the skips and rubbish bins are kept. I counted four skips, by the way, and the body was found in the one farthest from the entrance. Why did you go to that particular one?'

‘I knew it was the only one that still had some room in it, although it was very nearly full. I reckon if it'd been half empty I mightn't even have seen the poor lady.'

‘Presumably the lid was closed when you got there?'

‘Yes. I raised it and threw the bag in, and I was about to let the lid fall when I happened to look down and . . . there she was.' Wilkins momentarily closed his eyes at the recollection. ‘I called the ambulance and it came very quickly and . . . that's all I can tell you. Honestly!' He looked from one to the other, his expression apprehensive, as if expecting his story to be challenged.

‘It must have been quite a shock,' said Sukey sympathetically. Wilkins responded with a nod and a faint smile.

‘I presume you collected the rubbish and took it to the skips yesterday morning as usual. Did you go there again that day?'

‘No.'

‘Or this morning?'

‘No.'

‘Have you ever noticed anyone else going there?'

‘Oh yes, Sergeant. Some of the residents take their own bottles and paper and so on to the recycling bins. Sometimes I see them, but of course I'm not always around.'

‘Presumably Ms Tremaine used to take her own stuff to the bins?'

Wilkins nodded. ‘That's right.'

‘Can you remember the last time you saw her there?'

Wilkins pondered for a moment. ‘I can't remember exactly, but I've a feeling it was quite late one evening not long ago, when I was coming home from a visit to The Swan. That's the pub in Hope Lane.'

‘And you've seen her alive since?'

‘Oh yes, I'm sure I have.'

‘Has she lived here long?'

‘All I can say is she was here when I came, about eighteen months ago.'

‘So you've known her for some time. Have you noticed anything different about her behaviour recently?'

Wilkins compressed his lips and appeared to be thinking. ‘I wouldn't say as I know her exactly,' he said after a moment. ‘To be honest, Sergeant, I've never had much to do with her. She doesn't stop to chat like some of the other folk who live here.'

‘Have you ever seen her in conversation with any of the other residents?'

For the second time Wilkins hesitated for a few moments before saying, ‘No one in particular that I can think of.'

‘Well, thank you Mr Wilkins, you've been very helpful,' said Rathbone. Once outside the front door, he said, ‘I don't think he had a very high opinion of Ms Tremaine, although he was careful not to say anything critical about her. On the face of it his story sounds reasonable, but I'm not ruling him out at the moment. Make a note to check his bag of rubbish, by the way. Now, let's see what Doctor Ellerman has to say for himself.'

‘Did you notice those cushions in Ellerman's flat, Sarge?' asked Sukey as they made their way to the other block.

‘You mean the ones with elephants embroidered on them? Yes, I did. And the handle of the knife has an oriental looking design as well, hasn't it? That could be interesting.' He pressed Ellerman's bell and waited. ‘I see the CSIs have arrived,' he added, glancing over his shoulder at the white vans parked alongside the police vehicles. The lock on the front door was released and they went in.

‘Y
ou took your time!' Ellerman snapped. He glanced at his wristwatch as he closed the door behind Rathbone and Sukey. ‘There's something I want to watch on the television in fifteen minutes so that's all the time I can give you.'

‘That's no problem, Doctor Ellerman,' said Rathbone. ‘We can always speak to you again if necessary.'

Ellerman gave a non-committal shrug and led them into his sitting room, sat down in an armchair and took a mouthful from a drink on a table at his elbow. He made a peremptory gesture with the glass towards a sofa and said, ‘I suppose you'd better sit down.'

The two sat down and Sukey took out her notebook. ‘Perhaps you could begin by telling us exactly what you saw this afternoon,' said Rathbone.

Ellerman took a further swig from his drink before replying. ‘I was doing some work in my study after lunch when I heard the sirens. I didn't take much notice at first – I often hear emergency vehicles haring along the main road – but when they got closer and then stopped I went to the front window and looked out. There was an ambulance by the shed where the rubbish containers are kept and Wilkins was talking to the paramedics and gesturing. They all went in and a couple of minutes later Wilkins came out – tottered out would be a better word; he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. One of the paramedics was using his mobile and it looked as if something serious was up so I went down and investigated. Wilkins was practically gibbering and kept saying Fenella Tremaine – or
Mizz
Tremaine as he called her – was in one of the skips and he thought she was ill but they said she was dead and someone had stuck a knife in her back. Then the police arrived and started swarming all over the place. I spoke to the sergeant and tried to find out exactly what had happened but he was pretty officious and wouldn't tell me anything. He spoke to Wilkins, but the man was in such a state he couldn't get any sense out of him so I offered to bring him up here and give him a stiffener. The sergeant agreed and the rest you know.' Ellerman finished his drink, stood up to replenish his glass, sat down again and crossed his legs. ‘Next question?'

‘We understand Ms Tremaine was a resident here,' said Rathbone. ‘How well did you know her?'

‘We happen to work for the same company.'

‘Which is?'

‘Maxworth Foods.'

‘There was an article about them in the
Echo
recently,' said Sukey. ‘I understand there's a big reorganization in progress under the new chairman involving a move to new premises and some loss of jobs.'

Ellerman turned to look at her. There was surprise in his expression, and a hint of admiration in his tone as he said, ‘You're not just a pretty face are you?'

Sukey ignored the comment and said, ‘So you were colleagues?'

‘I didn't say that.' He hesitated for a moment before saying, ‘Look, there's no sense in trying to hide it because you're sure to find out one way or another. Fenella and I didn't hit it off. We had diametrically opposed views on a number of things, including how our department should be run. In fact, there are a number of people who find her difficult to deal with, but so far as I know no one disliked her enough to kill her. And I can assure you I didn't.'