All Passion Spent, Bergotte [e book reader online .txt] 📗

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Saturday, Oct 28: morning

At the first light of dawn, a little after 7.30, two police divers slipped into the cold, murky waters of the Avon Kennet canal in Sydney Gardens and began their search in the mud and detritus for the missing murder weapon. After an hour of fruitless endeavour they eventually brought a grimy item to the surface and handed it up to the forensic team that was waiting to deal with it. It was, as they had suspected, a small metal nail file. “Not much of a weapon is it?” was the rhetorical question from one of the forensic team. They bagged it up in the hope that under closer examination some bloodstains might be found, if not finger prints.

Anna awoke when she heard her alarm clock at 7.30. It was a bright Saturday morning with the sun streaming through the flimsy curtains of her cluttered bedroom. She felt hot, and realising that she had forgotten to switch the central heating off the night before, she took off her pyjama top and through it across the room, aiming at a chair, which she missed. Some free time at last, she thought. She caught sight of herself in the nearby mirror, leaning against the wall, waiting to be fixed to that wall. She stretched herself to full length, on her side on the bed, studying her image. Thirty-six years old and still not married. She heard mamma’s voice now, the voice in her head, constantly repeating these words to her, on the telephone from Italy. It was like a mantra with her mother… trenta-sei anni. Yes, she thought, it would be good to wake up next to someone on a Saturday morning, and be held in his arms. It would be good to have someone to share the decision-making. It would be good…
The telephone rang, disturbing the mantra. She stretched out an arm and answered the call, hoping it was not her mother at nine o’clock in the morning. “Hello,” she said. “Hello Anna, this is Gerrard. I’m sorry to disturb you at home like this, but we need to talk. Can you get round here fairly pronto?” “I’m not up and dressed yet sir, I’ll be there in an hour or so.” “That’s fine. I rang early, so you didn’t make any other plans.” The phone went dead. Anna replaced the receiver annoyed that she should be so summarily summoned to Gerrard’s presence. What is so important that it can’t wait until Monday? Why not talk to me on the phone? Why have I got to go to his home? Once again she took time and trouble in deciding what to wear. Then she stopped herself. She decided on jeans and a sweater. She was not going to get dressed up for Gerrard on a Saturday morning. She was not going to think about Eve…

As she drove up to it in the daytime Anna could see Gerrard’s house in all its glory. It was quite a place. Situated in Bailbrook Lane, not far from the college where Michael Fellingham taught Bailbrook Cottage was a delightful detached house in its own grounds with a view across the valley where the London Road ran near the river Avon. Gerrard had inherited it from his parents, both now deceased. Peter Gerrard had been their only child. Anna had not noticed any of this when she had dropped him off the previous night. Now he was showing her inside. She wondered if he would offer to show her round the house, but no, that was not what men did, she concluded, when he ushered her into the spacious living room.

“You probably wonder why I asked you here instead of telling you on the phone.” “Yes sir,” said Anna, rather coldly. “So you are a bit angry with me?” “Yes sir,” was her stiff response. “I’m sorry. I suffer from depression and I wanted someone to talk to.” On hearing these words Anna’s coldness was somewhat dissipated. She looked into Gerrard’s face and saw at once the change that had come over him. She perceived the mental anguish running through him. She realised that this was more than a mere sadness, but an intense feeling of helplessness, even hopelessness. “You see Anna, when you are sad or upset or depressed, there is a reason for it… someone has let you down, something has gone wrong, some plan or other of yours didn’t work out. My depression is of a different order, because there is no reason for it. Therefore it’s a clinical depression. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat, I don’t enjoy anything. Because you are working with me on this case I want you to see how I am at other times, when I’m not firing on all six cylinders, when I am withdrawn not willing to do anything. I hope you will understand.”

Anna was shocked to hear him talk like this. She was glad that he felt able to confide in her. “There is treatment available isn’t there?” she asked. “Yes. I am prescribed certain antidepressants. Depressives like me suffer from the dysfunction of three major neurotransmitter systems in the brain. These, which you may have heard of, include serotonin, dopamine, and noradrenaline. I take an antidepressant, which is a 5HT reuptake inhibitor. It works by blocking the reuptake of serotonin and nonadrenaline in the brain. Its name is fluoxetine, more commonly known as Prozac. When my depression sets in I am unable to make decisions.”

There followed an awkward silence. Anna felt very uncomfortable. She decided to talk about the case. “So,” she said,“we need to find a genuine motive for killing Laura Fellingham?” “Absolutely. I think we deserve some time off though. We’ll start in earnest on Monday.”

Despite what he had told Anna, later on in the morning Gerrard went in to the office and began to review the case once more. He decided to look again at Laura Fellingham’s mobile phone, read through her address book and any text messages left on it. He started to scroll through the many messages. Laura did not delete them very often. Most of them however, were quite perfunctory. Mixed in with all this dross were some golden nuggets from Gerrard’s point of view. They gave some indication of the rift that had developed between Laura and Isabella Fellingham. ‘You’re not taking me seriously. I will dissolve our business partnership if your behaviour continues.’ What did she mean precisely? Was the behaviour on the part of Bella to do with business or pleasure? Gerrard thought the latter. If Laura could not trust Bella in her private life she perhaps felt she could not trust her in her business life either. Perhaps Laura had got wind of the adulterous relationship with Michael and this she could not stomach.

Another scroll down the VDU and the screen displayed another nugget. You don’t want to come to lunch with P. you’d rather be with M. Be v. careful. This seemed to implicate Michael as well as Isabella. But what did it implicate them in? Murder? It was going to extreme lengths to kill someone because they disapproved of your behaviour. What if the business partnership were dissolved? It would not be the end of the world for Mrs F’s daughter. She was young and presumably talented. She could set up her own business and be her own boss. Do these messages give a motive for murder? No, thought Gerrard, not on their own. But in conjunction with other pieces of evidence there might be a case…

Gerrard speculated that if she wanted to set up her own business she could ask Paul for financial help. But then Gerrard came across another nugget. It appeared that Paul himself was in dire financial difficulties. There was a text message from Paul appealing to his mother-in-law for help. In dire straits, need money urgently, can you spare £5000? There was no reply to this message, but if the answer were no and Paul desperately needed financial backing for whatever reason, would he murder his mother-in-law in the hope of receiving something in the will. Gerrard noted that he had to find out what was in Laura Fellingham’s will because it could have a direct bearing on the case. He needed to know who the beneficiaries were even just to eliminate them from his inquiries.

One text message suggested another line of inquiry. This was from Paul once more, this time mentioning one of his business associates. Your help might persuade Jeremy Thomas to help also. So, Gerrard concluded, Paul needed more than the £5000 he was asking Laura Fellingham for. The final message that stood out from the rest was one from Isabella to her mother to the effect that she knew, or thought she knew, that Paul was unfaithful to her, on a fairly regular basis. This introduced a new dimension into the situation. Gerrard realised that it was not simply a case of Bella deceiving her husband but her husband deceiving her. What a tangled web we weave when those we love we do deceive thought Gerrard. There is plenty of work for us to do next week. He switched off the phone, replaced it in its evidence bag and shut it in a drawer, locking it as he did so. The only person who was not involved in Laura’s texting was Margherita.

But, thought Gerrard, mobiles are not allowed in hospitals and Laura was more likely to phone Rita on a landline or email her. Enough for one day. Time to go home and get some well-deserved rest. Now he needed to switch off and think no more of the case. On his way out the custody sergeant told him that Tommy had arrived back in Wiltshire and would appear before a court on Monday. Gerrard considered whether he should get in touch with Tresillian, as he was taking such an interest in the case. On reflection he decided against it. He had had enough of the Chief Super for one week. He would face that problem on Monday as well.


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Saturday, Oct 28: afternoon

Lynne was visiting her car salesman boyfriend, Phil Dickinson, at his home. She had brought a fish and chips lunch for him. The hit and run driver was now on bail, awaiting trial. “I expect to get a fine, not a custodial sentence. It was an accident after all,” he told her. “But you didn’t stop did you?” she said to him. “No, that was my big mistake. I didn’t stop. I panicked. If I had stopped that youth, what’s his name?” “Tommy.” “Yes, Tommy, wouldn’t have moved the woman…” “Laura Fellingham.” “Yes, he wouldn’t have moved Laura Fellingham and she would still be alive.” “I think there’s a good chance you will be banned from driving for a time.” “Don’t say that. How am I going to my job if I’m not allowed to drive a car?” To this she made no reply.

The Fellinghams had arranged to hold a sort of ‘family conference’ at Laura’s house to discuss the state of affairs and the future. At about 1.30 p.m. Margherita Fellingham, having just finished lunch, received a telephone call from her brother-in-law Paul. He wanted to make sure that she would keep to the commitment she had made. “Are you going to come over?” he asked, rather petulantly, she thought. “Yes, if you want me,” she said, with an air of injured innocence. Paul told her that she, with the others, had agreed to