All Passion Spent, Bergotte [top 10 non fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

his interim report with him. He says he’ll rest this afternoon and give you the completed report in the morning.”

She read it out to Gerrard who frowned at the news. “That is far from satisfactory. We’ve still not got any definite information as to the C.O.D. have we?” “No sir,” said Anna. “I’ll get off home now. Eve’s coming round at seven. I want a rest before then.” “I’ll see you tomorrow then. By the way, sir, would you like to come round to my place tomorrow evening for a bite to eat?” “Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” replied Gerrard, “I do like being looked after. What time shall we make it?” “Shall we say half past six for seven?” “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that he went on his way, leaving Anna to get on with paperwork.


CHAPTER NINE

Wednesday, October 25: evening

Wednesday evening found Gerrard at home, an angry man. It was all taking too long. This business with the lab report on Laura’s death was ridiculous. He could do nothing more. Perhaps it would be better to sit at home for a while and relax. But he couldn’t take his mind off the case. Why would anyone want to move the body or the injured person into bushes?
His musing was interrupted by the telephone.

“Hello, Gerrard speaking.”
“There has been a development, sir.” Gerrard recognised the excited tones of Anna’s voice. “A teenage girl called Sam has contacted me by phone. I had some dealings with her a couple of years ago. She says she has some information regarding Laura Fellingham. I’m meeting her in Bristol in a few minutes time. I thought you ought to know. I’m on the train at the moment. We’re just pulling in to the railway station at Temple Meads.”
“Good. Thank you. Please keep me informed of any further developments.”
“Yes sir,” replied Anna. He wished her goodnight and rang off.

Gerrard sat in his chair thinking. He wondered where Eve had got to. She was supposed to be calling round at seven. Now it was gone seven, only a few minutes admittedly, but it was gone seven. So where is she? This time his impatient, silent questioning was interrupted by the sound of a text message arriving on his mobile.

Sorry I’m running late, I’ll be another 5 minutes, bringing food. Eve

Damn the woman. Why can’t she come on time? Still, it’s no use sitting here brooding, wondering. He got up and went to find some plates and cutlery, assuming that the food that Eve was bringing required eating irons. After a short while he heard a knock on the door and smiled with relief, knowing that she had arrived. Why can’t she ring the doorbell like everyone else? She always knocked the door in the same way… tap, tap, tap. Gerrard opened it. “You got here at last,” he said. She drew herself up to her full height. “And I’ll go away again if you play the grumpy old man with me. Didn’t you get my message?” “Yes, thanks.” “Why didn’t you reply to it, then?” “I didn’t think there was any need. Come in. What have you brought with you?” “A Thai meal you can do in the microwave. Have you got any chop sticks?” “No, I don’t know how to use them. I don’t want to know how to use them.” “My goodness, you are tetchy tonight. What’s the matter with you?”

She went into the kitchen, put a carrier bag on the table and extracted various items in cellophane packaging, which she proceeded to put in the microwave, which was standing on the work surface. She knew her way around Gerrard’s kitchen and he noticed, did not need to read any cooking instructions. “It’s this case, I suppose,” he said, in reply to her question. “The press think I’m baffled by it and the chief super thinks it’s murder.” “Are you baffled by it?” “Yes, but that’s not the point is it? Not good for PR, if the public think we’re baffled by it. Anyway we’ve hardly started.” He took two wineglasses and a bottle of red wine from the cellarette and set them on coasters on the dining room table, then rejoined Eve in the kitchen in his search for a corkscrew. “It won’t be long,” she told him.
When they finally sat down at the table together Gerrard seemed to be a bit more relaxed. They ate in silence, enjoying the meal and the moment, Eve obviously taking great pleasure in the fact that Gerrard appreciated her culinary skills. “Now then, Peter… are you going to tell to me about this case of yours?” “There isn’t much to tell,” replied Gerrard, “but I do wish you were working on it as pathologist and not that long streak of misery Dr Ray.” “I’m glad you appreciate my work… From what I gather from the news media, it wasn’t the car driver who knocked your victim down who killed her?” “No, he just drove off. He was a hit and run man. We interviewed him this afternoon. We’re looking for someone who moved the body from the road into the gardens, but didn’t call the emergency services. It’s all very odd.” “So the woman died of the wounds inflicted by the driver’s car?” “It looks like it.” “That is odd.”

Anna alighted from the train and found the girl waiting for her on the platform. “Hello Sam.” “Hello,” returned the girl. “Shall we go and get a drink here somewhere?” Anna asked the girl.
“Yes, there’s a place near the ticket office,” said Sam. When they had bought some drinks they settled themselves at a table.
“How are you?” Anna asked the girl.
“I’m all right,” she replied.
“Keeping out of trouble?”
“I was only in trouble once and that was because of a stupid mistake.”
“What do you want to see me about?”
“My friend,” replied Sam. “What about him?” “Can I trust you?” “Yes, of course. What’s happened to your friend? You said something about him being connected with Laura Fellingham’s death.”

“Yes, he found her lying in the road after she was hit by a car and he carried her into Sydney Gardens and hid her in the bushes.” “Was she dead?” “No, unconscious but not dead.” “Why on earth did he put her in bushes?” “I don’t know. He stole some things from her bag and then panicked.” Sam reached into the pockets of her jeans and pulled out a watch and a mobile phone. She placed them on the table in front of the police officer. “Perhaps,” she continued, “he thought he would have more time to get rid of this phone and watch, if he hid the lady.” “Why didn’t he call an ambulance?” “I don’t know. He just panicked. He’d been drinking all day with some down and outs he knows. He wasn’t thinking straight.” “What’s his name?” “Tommy… Tommy Mattheson.” “Tell me about him, Sam.”

“He’s nineteen years old. He had his birthday a month ago on the twenty-eighth of September. He left school when he was seventeen.” She started to become quite tearful. Anna took out a handkerchief and handed it to the girl to help her compose herself. “Take your time, Sam,” she said kindly, “carry on please, when you’re ready.” After some moments Sam started again.

“As I was saying… Tommy left school when he was seventeen. That’s where I met him, at school. He’s really a nice boy, very caring. He had started his ‘A’ levels but he was thrown out of his home in Bristol because his mother remarried after her divorce and the new husband took against him. They hated each other. Tommy developed a lot of hatred for him and anybody else in authority.”
“Would you describe him as your boyfriend?”
“Yes, but I don’t see much of him. He’s not welcome in my home either. My dad hates the idea of me going about with what he calls a vagrant. He’s homeless. He thought he would stand more chance of finding somewhere to live in Bath, but he never has. He’s lived out on the streets for a long time, but he managed to get a place in a squat. There is no chance of getting a job because of the state of him.”
“You still live at home, do you Sam?”
“Yes, I live with my parents; the same place I was living in when we met up before.”
“Yes, I remember, in Bedminster isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Anyway, I’m still at school, so I can’t help Tommy with money. I want to finish my ‘A’ levels and go to college. I know that Tommy steals what he can, when he can. He gave me this watch and mobile to sell but I’m giving them to you. They belong to Mrs Fellingham.”

“Thank you,” said Anna kindly, “and where may I find Tommy now?” “I wrote down his address on this,” she replied, handing the police officer a crumpled scrap of paper. “You’ve been a great help,” said Anna, smiling at the girl, “if you like I’ll walk you home to Bedminster.” “Thank you. It is a bit late for me to be out on my own.” “Will your parents be worried about you?” “No, I told them I was meeting a friend and would be home within the hour.” They walked to the girl’s home but she did not want to have to introduce her parents to a police officer. Anna made herself scarce before Sam went inside.

By now Gerrard and his guest had reached the coffee stage of their meal together. They sat in the living room in comfortable armchairs. “That picture you were having framed when we met you, was it one of your portraits?” “Yes, I painted it last year when I was on holiday.” “Are you working on anything at the moment?” “No, I’m trying to recover from this recent illness.” “I wonder if I could commission you to paint my great uncle’s portrait, great uncle Jack that is?” “Yeah, I should be delighted to do it if I can find the time. Would he be prepared to sit for me though?” “He spends most of time sitting, stock still, in fact. And he has an interesting face, lived in, I think you would describe it,” said Gerrard. “He’s the old man you have told me about before, isn’t he, the man who was a jazz player?” “Yes, I went to see him the other day. He’s quite cheerfully listening to jazz these days.”

“Do you still play yourself?” “Sometimes, not very often, now. I don’t seem to have the time.” “Like me and my painting.” “Perhaps we ought to make the time.” “Well, let’s make it now… play something to me Peter.”

Gerrard got up, went into his back room, rummaged around in a corner and took out his alto sax. It had indeed been many months since he had last taken it from its case. He pushed home the mouthpiece and took the instrument along with a volume of music he had found, back into the living room. He withdrew the CD from the rear of the music and put it in the player, switched on and tuned carefully to the C given out by the disc. He enjoyed playing along with the accompaniment on a CD. It felt as if he were playing in a jazz band. But he had forgotten his music stand. He went once more into the spare room and rifled through more unused possessions until he found it. At last he was ready to play.