All Passion Spent - Bergotte (pdf e book reader .txt) 📗
- Author: Bergotte
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He thought he had lost the police car and slowed down to within the 30-mph speed limit. As he approached the outskirts of Marlborough another police car pulled across the road in front of him. He tried to swerve round it and almost hit a lorry coming in the opposite direction. The car he was driving went out of control as he over-corrected his swerve by violently turning the steering wheel in the opposite direction. The Astra mounted the pavement. Tommy braked sharply and the car came to a halt with its bonnet in a hedge, close to Marlborough School.
A mad panic set in as he quickly released the seatbelt and opened the door. He slammed it behind him and ran along the path for some time before realising that his haste was making him conspicuous. He slowed down to a walking pace as he arrived in the main street. There were not many people about, but he thought he could blend in with his surroundings and manage not to draw attention to himself. He took off his hat and stuffed it in his coat pocket. He crossed the road and went into the Waitrose supermarket in the middle of the town. As he was entering the shop he saw two police cars coming down the road towards him. He felt reasonably safe. They did not know what he looked like, did they?
Then he began to rack his brains, trying to remember whether Sam had ever had a photograph of him. He thought not. He felt in his trouser pocket for the money he had left out of the £30 he had stolen from Laura Fellingham. That was only last Saturday. ‘Now it is Thursday,’ he thought, ‘but it seems that it was weeks and weeks ago that the incident in Sydney Gardens happened.’ He bought a few items that he could call breakfast and went to the checkout. The girl at the till hardly seemed to notice him. He paid for the goods and walked out of the shop at the back entrance, finding himself in the car park. There, he found a seat and sat down to eat.
The four policemen from the two cars had split up and began searching any business premises that were open at that time. Few were. Tommy looked down the side alley of Waitrose, half expecting the police to appear on the scene at any moment. If they did, he would make a run for it, back through the supermarket. He sat there for some time, anxiously awaiting developments. Then the inevitable happened. A police constable appeared from nowhere and stood at the back entrance to the store. Another appeared in the side alley whilst a police car drove into the car park. Tommy looked around for a means of escape, somewhere to take refuge, but there was nowhere left to run.
The policemen cautioned him, arrested him and bundled him into the nearby police car. He was taken to the police station at Trowbridge, where he was charged with stealing the car, driving without a licence and dangerous driving. It was some hours before Bath and North East Somerset police were in contact with Wiltshire police and had made arrangements to have Tommy brought back to Bath.
At half past ten, Gerrard sent his sergeant to the home of Paul and Isabella Fellingham. Anna rang the doorbell and was met by Isabella. “Hello Sergeant Rossi,” she said, and welcomed the policewoman inside asking her to seat herself in the front room. “Is there any more news?” “Yes, I’m pleased to say that there have been some developments recently,” replied Anna.
“Would you like some coffee?” “Yes, please.” “Come into the kitchen then, and talk to me while I make it. Anna followed the young woman and sat on a stool while Isabella busied herself with kettle, milk, coffee and mugs. They sat together at the kitchen table whilst Anna told her of the recent turn of events. She mentioned the young man who had moved Isabella’s mother from the road into Sydney Gardens.
“How did you find him?” asked Isabella. “He has a girlfriend, it seems, who lives in Bristol. She doesn’t see him very often but he phoned her, using your mother’s mobile and they met up. He told her what he had done and she urged him to come forward, but he refused. She then contacted me.”
“Have you arrested him yet?”
“No, he’s done a runner but we know where he is and he will be brought back to face the music presently.”
“Why did he move her?”
“He was stealing from her handbag and reckoned he’d have more time to get rid of the stuff, sell it that is, if he hid your mother’s unconscious body.”
“Can you tell me what he looked like on the Saturday evening?” asked Bella, suddenly interested. Anna consulted her notebook and turned back a few pages.
“Well, the Wiltshire police have described him as a lad of nineteen, in blue jeans, a sweat shirt and a cap on his head. He wore rather dilapidated trainers. He’s been living rough for some time, and that’s exactly how he looks – rough.”
“I saw him running out of the main entrance to Sydney Gardens. I was walking down the Beckford road and he almost ran into me.”
“What time was this?”
“Just after 7.40 p.m. I looked at the clock in the car when I parked.”
“And you would recognise him again?”
“Oh, certainly,” said Bella, warmly.
“Well, that could be useful,” replied the police officer, and then after a pause she added, “we now have reason to think that your mother was murdered. She did not die of her injuries in the car accident.”
“Why do you think she was murdered?” asked Bella, alarmed. “The pathology report describes a blow to the back of the neck with a small, sharp instrument, such as a nail file. Do you use a nail file? I ask as a matter of routine inquiry.” “No, just nail scissors,” replied Bella, “but I know that my mother did. She often took it out of her bag and started filing her fingernails. I didn’t mind it at all but it drove Paul to distraction.”
“We didn’t find it with the rest of her things,” said Anna.
“So this vagrant must have killed her with her own nail file and then disposed of it somewhere.” “We don’t know that. There seems to be no motive. You don’t kill someone for the little that he stole.”
“What other explanation is there?”
“There isn’t another explanation at the moment. It’s a mystery.” The two women looked across the table at each other in silence. Then, Anna said, “There’s another mystery that needs solving and you are the one who can solve it.” “Oh,” said Bella, trying to display an air of innocence, but knowing full well what the policewoman was going to say, “what might that be?” “You told Chief Inspector Gerrard and me on Tuesday that you were meeting your husband last Saturday evening, but that isn't true, is it?” “No, it was a lie. I was meeting my brother-in-law, Michael.” “Why did you lie to us?” “I didn’t want you to know that I was meeting Michael.” “Have you something to hide?” “Yes, I suppose so. My relationship with my brother-in-law. It has no relevance to the inquiry though, does it.” “At the moment, as far as I can see, no.” “Is that all then, Sergeant Rossi?” “Yes, for the moment.”
“I’ll show you to the door then.”
(TBC)
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A mad panic set in as he quickly released the seatbelt and opened the door. He slammed it behind him and ran along the path for some time before realising that his haste was making him conspicuous. He slowed down to a walking pace as he arrived in the main street. There were not many people about, but he thought he could blend in with his surroundings and manage not to draw attention to himself. He took off his hat and stuffed it in his coat pocket. He crossed the road and went into the Waitrose supermarket in the middle of the town. As he was entering the shop he saw two police cars coming down the road towards him. He felt reasonably safe. They did not know what he looked like, did they?
Then he began to rack his brains, trying to remember whether Sam had ever had a photograph of him. He thought not. He felt in his trouser pocket for the money he had left out of the £30 he had stolen from Laura Fellingham. That was only last Saturday. ‘Now it is Thursday,’ he thought, ‘but it seems that it was weeks and weeks ago that the incident in Sydney Gardens happened.’ He bought a few items that he could call breakfast and went to the checkout. The girl at the till hardly seemed to notice him. He paid for the goods and walked out of the shop at the back entrance, finding himself in the car park. There, he found a seat and sat down to eat.
The four policemen from the two cars had split up and began searching any business premises that were open at that time. Few were. Tommy looked down the side alley of Waitrose, half expecting the police to appear on the scene at any moment. If they did, he would make a run for it, back through the supermarket. He sat there for some time, anxiously awaiting developments. Then the inevitable happened. A police constable appeared from nowhere and stood at the back entrance to the store. Another appeared in the side alley whilst a police car drove into the car park. Tommy looked around for a means of escape, somewhere to take refuge, but there was nowhere left to run.
The policemen cautioned him, arrested him and bundled him into the nearby police car. He was taken to the police station at Trowbridge, where he was charged with stealing the car, driving without a licence and dangerous driving. It was some hours before Bath and North East Somerset police were in contact with Wiltshire police and had made arrangements to have Tommy brought back to Bath.
At half past ten, Gerrard sent his sergeant to the home of Paul and Isabella Fellingham. Anna rang the doorbell and was met by Isabella. “Hello Sergeant Rossi,” she said, and welcomed the policewoman inside asking her to seat herself in the front room. “Is there any more news?” “Yes, I’m pleased to say that there have been some developments recently,” replied Anna.
“Would you like some coffee?” “Yes, please.” “Come into the kitchen then, and talk to me while I make it. Anna followed the young woman and sat on a stool while Isabella busied herself with kettle, milk, coffee and mugs. They sat together at the kitchen table whilst Anna told her of the recent turn of events. She mentioned the young man who had moved Isabella’s mother from the road into Sydney Gardens.
“How did you find him?” asked Isabella. “He has a girlfriend, it seems, who lives in Bristol. She doesn’t see him very often but he phoned her, using your mother’s mobile and they met up. He told her what he had done and she urged him to come forward, but he refused. She then contacted me.”
“Have you arrested him yet?”
“No, he’s done a runner but we know where he is and he will be brought back to face the music presently.”
“Why did he move her?”
“He was stealing from her handbag and reckoned he’d have more time to get rid of the stuff, sell it that is, if he hid your mother’s unconscious body.”
“Can you tell me what he looked like on the Saturday evening?” asked Bella, suddenly interested. Anna consulted her notebook and turned back a few pages.
“Well, the Wiltshire police have described him as a lad of nineteen, in blue jeans, a sweat shirt and a cap on his head. He wore rather dilapidated trainers. He’s been living rough for some time, and that’s exactly how he looks – rough.”
“I saw him running out of the main entrance to Sydney Gardens. I was walking down the Beckford road and he almost ran into me.”
“What time was this?”
“Just after 7.40 p.m. I looked at the clock in the car when I parked.”
“And you would recognise him again?”
“Oh, certainly,” said Bella, warmly.
“Well, that could be useful,” replied the police officer, and then after a pause she added, “we now have reason to think that your mother was murdered. She did not die of her injuries in the car accident.”
“Why do you think she was murdered?” asked Bella, alarmed. “The pathology report describes a blow to the back of the neck with a small, sharp instrument, such as a nail file. Do you use a nail file? I ask as a matter of routine inquiry.” “No, just nail scissors,” replied Bella, “but I know that my mother did. She often took it out of her bag and started filing her fingernails. I didn’t mind it at all but it drove Paul to distraction.”
“We didn’t find it with the rest of her things,” said Anna.
“So this vagrant must have killed her with her own nail file and then disposed of it somewhere.” “We don’t know that. There seems to be no motive. You don’t kill someone for the little that he stole.”
“What other explanation is there?”
“There isn’t another explanation at the moment. It’s a mystery.” The two women looked across the table at each other in silence. Then, Anna said, “There’s another mystery that needs solving and you are the one who can solve it.” “Oh,” said Bella, trying to display an air of innocence, but knowing full well what the policewoman was going to say, “what might that be?” “You told Chief Inspector Gerrard and me on Tuesday that you were meeting your husband last Saturday evening, but that isn't true, is it?” “No, it was a lie. I was meeting my brother-in-law, Michael.” “Why did you lie to us?” “I didn’t want you to know that I was meeting Michael.” “Have you something to hide?” “Yes, I suppose so. My relationship with my brother-in-law. It has no relevance to the inquiry though, does it.” “At the moment, as far as I can see, no.” “Is that all then, Sergeant Rossi?” “Yes, for the moment.”
“I’ll show you to the door then.”
(TBC)
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Text: Bergotte
Images: Bergotte
Editing: Bergotte
Publication Date: 10-04-2012
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