All Passion Spent - Bergotte (pdf e book reader .txt) 📗

have been a great help to us. All we need to do now is find the car.” Having established the truth, to his own satisfaction, and with some definite information, Gerrard now seemed a little calmer. He turned to his sergeant, “Let’s get a call put out so we can trace this car and its driver,” he said.
“I’ll do that straight away, sir,” said Anna, getting up to leave the room.
“Have I done wrong, inspector?” queried Mrs Phelps.
“No, not wrong, I just wish you had reported the incident sooner.”
“As soon as I saw it on TV I knew it had actually happened.”
“But that wasn’t until late Monday night, and you did not phone us until this morning. We’ve wasted a lot of time since Mrs Fellingham died on Saturday evening.”
“I’m sorry, inspector, I didn’t want to be a nuisance to the police.”
Anna re-entered the room. “The call has gone out, and I’ve contacted a local radio station to ask if anyone knows of a yellow sports car within a twenty mile radius of the city, sir,” she said to Gerrard.
“Good! Let’s hope it brings some quick results,” he replied. He thanked the old lady for her time and trouble, apologised to her for being rude and the two police officers left the building.

“Before we go, let’s have another look at the crime scene,” said Gerrard. They crossed the road and made their way to the bushes in the park, which were still sealed off from the public and under police guard. Gerrard poked about in the undergrowth for a while. “She was fully clothed and her clothes had not been tampered with, so I don’t think she was attacked or sexually assaulted.” “If she had been knocked unconscious as a result of a motor accident she wouldn’t need much attacking if someone was going to steal her belongings,” suggested Anna. “We won’t know if any personal items are missing until we speak to one of the family. The daughter, Isabella is probably the one to know. Has anyone got in touch with her yet?” “Yes. A constable went to her home to inform her of the death,” said Anna, “though the husband wasn’t in at the time.”
“I think we ought to see her and her husband as soon as possible.”
“I’ll try and arrange something, shall I?”
“Yes,” said Gerrard.

When Gerrard returned to his office he was confronted by press and a TV camera crew, all baying for information like a pack of hounds scenting a fox. “I’ll go into my office and prepare something for you,” he told the producer of a local news programme. “Are you prepared to make a statement yourself Chief Inspector?” she asked. “Yes, just hold on. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll come and talk to you.”

With that he departed for the relative peace of his office to work out a statement, where Anna was trying to contact Isabella by phone. “Hello, is that Mrs Fellingham? This is sergeant Rossi from Bath and North East Somerset police. We’d like to talk to you.”


CHAPTER SIX

Tuesday, October 24: evening

Gerrard and Rossi were now on their way to see Isabella Fellingham. They found her at home on Wellsway, as Mrs Smith had told them, in one of the avenues off Bear Flat, that each bear the name of famous English poets Milton, Shakespeare, Kipling, Longfellow. When they had introduced themselves and sat down, Gerrard wanted to get straight down to business, but he was surprised when Isabella asked the first question.

“Do you know what happened to my mother?”
“No, we don’t as yet. I’m hoping you will be able to shed some light on the events of Saturday night.”
“I drove into Bath from here and went along the bottom of Sydney Gardens. I turned right up Beckford Road and parked on the left-hand side of the road, not far from the main entrance to Sydney Gardens. I had arranged to meet my mother.”
“What time would that be?”
“She was due to meet me at 7.45 p.m. I arrived at 7.40, and walked down the road. I suppose it took me a minute to reach our meeting place.”
“Did you meet your mother?”
“No, she never turned up. I waited until 8.30 and then left.”
“You went away by car?”
“No, I went to get something to eat.”
“Where did you eat?”
“At a little bistro, down the road, near Pultney Bridge.”
“Were you eating alone?” continued Gerrard.
“No, my husband had joined me,” she replied.
“How did he know about it?”
“When my mother failed to put in an appearance I phoned Paul and he met me at the restaurant.”
“He just happened to be in Bath at the time?”
“No, it was a prearranged meeting.”
“And the people in the bistro will confirm this presumably?”
“Yes,” said Isabella.
“Could you let us have a picture of you and your husband that we could borrow for a few days?” Anna asked Isabella, who went to a table in the corner of the room, pulled open a drawer and rummaged around for a few moments. She pulled out a small photograph and handed it to the policewoman.
“I don’t understand this, Mrs Fellingham,” said Gerrard, decisively. “How could you be meeting two people in different places at the same time?”
“I wasn’t meeting two people. I was meeting two people one after the other, my mother and then my husband.”
“So you kept your husband waiting while you met with your mother?”
“She didn’t turn up though,” said Isabella.
“But that was the plan wasn’t it?” persisted Gerrard, “that he would hang around while you met your mother and then join you in the restaurant.”
“He did not hang around as you put it, he went to the restaurant, got a table for both of us, sat down and waited.”
“What did you do when you had finished your meal?”
“Paul walked me to my car. I then drove him to pick up his car.”
“Where was that parked?”
“In the park, Henrietta Park, off Pultney Street.”
“But that is closer to the restaurant than where you were parked.”
“Yes, but the one way system makes it easier to do it the way we did it.”
“Does it?”
“Yes, we think so anyway.”
“What was the purpose of your meeting with your mother?”
“It was effectively a business meeting.”
“On a Saturday evening in the open air in October?” said Gerrard, looking quite startled.
“Yes, I had already made arrangements with Paul to see him and then I had to fit my mother in. She was going on elsewhere.”
“Where is your husband now?”
“He had to go back to London on Sunday night. He is still there.”
“When is he coming home?” asked Anna.
“Late tonight or perhaps tomorrow morning. I don’t know,” replied Isabella.
“Ask him or rather tell him we want to see him at the police station as soon as he is able to get there,” said Gerrard.
“Okay, I will pass the message on,” replied Isabella.
“It would help if you could phone him beforehand,” said Gerrard with growing impatience. “Your mother died on Saturday night. It’s Tuesday night now. That’s a big time gap. We need as much information as possible early in the inquiry. You and your husband are the only people we know of so far who were definitely in the vicinity at the time of your mother’s death. Your husband does know what has happened to your mother?”
“Yes, I contacted him on his mobile as soon as I found out.”
“I would have thought he would have made it a priority to be with you in your hour of need,” observed Gerrard.
“Well, to be honest, so would I, but Paul is not very good at coping with such situations. And I do have a twin sister and brother-in-law.”
“Yes, Michael and Rita.”
“You know of them?”
“Yes, your mother’s help, Mrs Smith told us.”
“Of course, she would.”
“Do you mind?”
“No, why should I?”
“You grimaced when I mentioned her, that’s all.”
“Well, she’s a bit of a busybody and talks, talks, talks, non stop.”
“Are you close to your sister,” asked Anna.
“Not quite as much as I used to be,” admitted Bella, “not since we got married really. We live very different lives. Our paths don’t cross all that much in our day to day lives. We meet together quite often at family events, birthdays and so on.”
“You haven’t been married very long, have you?”
“No, a couple of years.”
“You work, or rather worked with your mother?”
“Yes, we design clothes. We both work at my mother’s studio at her house. We get the clothes made up and supply a retail shop in Bath.”
“Does your sister have a job?”
“Yes, Rita trained to be a nurse after she left school. We both went to the same school. She works at the R.U.H.”
“The Royal United, in Weston?” Isabella nodded her assent.
“And Michael, what does he do?”
“He teaches in a sixth form college, somewhere,” said Bella, trying to show as little interest as possible.
“Okay, let’s leave it there,” said Gerrard

“What do you think of her story?” Gerrard asked Anna when they were in Gerrard’s car on their way back to the station.
“There is one part of it that doesn’t add up at all,” replied Anna.
“And which part is that?”
“The bit about meeting her husband and then him walking with her all the way to Beckford Road. If he were parked in Henrietta Park he would drive her. They’d go to Laura Place, you know where the fountain is in Pultney Street and then left at the end of Pultney Street, then right into Beckford Road. There’s no one way system. You can’t turn right out of Pultney Street, but you can turn left.”
“I think it’s a moot point,” replied Gerrard. “In fact, my instinct would be to go in the other direction and come out near Cleveland Bridge.”
“Then they would be going in the wrong direction.”
“You can get round that way, but the thing is, the roads around Henrietta Park are very congested with parked cars. That’s why I think it’s a moot point.”
“Do you believe her then sir?”
“No, because I think it’s very strange for her to meet her mother alone. Why wasn’t her husband at the meeting?”
“Perhaps it was girl talk. You know that they are in business together, perhaps it really was a business meeting, without the husband, to agree something or other.”
“Let’s go to this bistro place and see what the people there have to say. We might get a bite to eat there ourselves while we’re at it.”
“Very good, sir. I like eating out. It will save me having to cook tonight.” They drove on in silence, each deep in thought.

“Do you remember seeing this lady and her husband on Saturday evening last?” Anna asked the proprietor of the bistro, showing him the photograph.
“Yes, they were in here, all right. The man came in first and then went off to meet her and they both reappeared at about quarter to nine. She was looking rather worried.”
“Do you know what she was worried about?”
“No, not really, but I overheard them talking about someone else who had not turned up to meet them.”
“Can you remember anything else that might help us in our inquiries?” asked Anna.
“No, not that I can think of,” replied the proprietor.
“Thank you for your kind co-operation,” said Gerrard, “now we would like something to eat ourselves.”

A waiter brought a menu to each of them. They sat in silence perusing the contents.