Frozen Charlotte (20 page)

Alex rang Mark Sullivan as early as he could – at nine o’clock – and asked whether the post-mortem on Alice Sedgewick could be held first thing as he was anxious to proceed with the investigation. It was imperative that a police officer be present in case samples were taken and, partly spurred on by Martha’s advice, Randall wanted to be absolutely certain that Alice had died by her own hand. As he drove in he considered another explanation. Mrs Sedgewick had come over to him as a vulnerable woman. Why, was more difficult to work out. She had two children who seemed superficially to have done well. She was married, had a lovely home and yet she was vulnerable and he simply couldn’t work out why. Alex Randall was a policeman – perhaps more tuned in to people’s feelings than most – but still primarily a policeman. To him Mrs Sedgewick seemed vulnerable enough for him to imagine her being coerced or persuaded into taking her own life. She appeared someone who would listen to a stronger voice. Alex frowned, his hands gripping the steering wheel. Why did he have the feeling that he had just expressed a significant statement of fact? He tried to go over what he had just voiced but a silver Citroën cut him up at the roundabout and he lost his train of thought.

Damn.

Mark Sullivan was already wearing his scrubs and long waterproof apron when he arrived. ‘Thought I’d save time,’ he said cheerily to Alex. ‘I’ll get Peter to wheel her in.’

As was the usual practice, Alice Sedgewick was still fully clothed in a dark skirt and blouse, no shoes and no stockings. There was the usual procedure of weighing the body and the initial examination. Then Sullivan inserted a gloved finger into her mouth. Even Alex could see the remains of tablets semi-dissolved, still not swallowed. ‘Apparently she had them on prescription from a private psychiatrist,’ Sullivan said disapprovingly. ‘She’d been treated for depression and intractable insomnia for a number of years.’

Alex looked up. ‘How many years?’

‘Three, four.’ Sullivan was absorbed in removing Alice’s clothes and dropping them into the bag Roddie Hughes was holding out for him.

‘Who by?’

Mark Sullivan looked up. ‘Sorry?’

‘Who’d been treating her?’

‘Oh, a private psychiatrist named Richmond. Alan Richmond. He’s a very well thought of chap hereabouts. He’s treated my own wife.’

‘Really?’

Sullivan bent back over his work. ‘With very limited success I have to say. But still – you can’t win them all.’

‘Indeed not.’ They both looked at the sad figure of Alice Sedgewick, laid bare now and Randall added quietly, ‘Especially as it would seem that it was he who prescribed the fatal medicine.’

Mentally he was tacking yet another thing to his list. Phone Dr Richmond. He was surprised the doctor hadn’t come forward to offer some information about the dead woman. If he had she might not be dead now. He would almost certainly be called as a witness to the inquest.

Half an hour later Mark Sullivan gave him his initial findings. ‘No marks at all on the body. Amylobarbitone is rapidly absorbed but I’d say she took a fatal dose of a barbiturate together with alcohol some time yesterday evening. He looked across. ‘No note, you say?’

‘No.’

‘Shame that. It might have helped. Still my instinct is that this poor woman committed suicide.’ He glanced across at the body. ‘She probably saw the headlines in the newspaper and that was that. Whatever had gone on before it tipped her over the edge. You want me to phone Martha?’

‘Don’t worry – I’ll do it. I suppose you’d better get on with the rest of your work now. Thanks, Mark.’

Sullivan smiled. ‘Yes – like an undertaker – never short of customers.’

FOURTEEN

R
andall rang Martha at home and gave her the results of the post-mortem.

‘Much as we’d suspected,’ she commented. ‘There was no sign of trauma around her mouth, anywhere on her body?’

‘No.’

‘Was a copy of the newspaper found at the house?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Obviously the team who originally attended the scene took a quick look round but as this didn’t appear to be a suspicious death I haven’t ordered a full blown forensic search.’

‘That makes sense.’

‘But even if she didn’t have a newspaper, Martha, she could still have heard about the finding of the bones on the local news on the radio or the television or even seen it on a newspaper hoarding,’ he pointed out. ‘Or . . .’ He stopped. ‘Someone could have rung her.’

‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘Have you anyone in mind?’

‘It’ll be difficult to prove.’

‘You know me, Alex,’ she said. ‘I like it neat and tidy. If someone had rung to tell Alice about the bones being found it would have been a malicious act. Someone who was not a friend.’

‘Most definitely not,’ he agreed.

‘Anything else?’

Randall hesitated. ‘I’m going to have to speak to Aaron Sedgewick at some point,’ he said. ‘I’d like you in on it. It might help you decide on your verdict,’ he added by way of a sweetener.

‘You know I can’t attend in person, Alex,’ she said. ‘It would be considered prejudicial. But I can watch from behind the one-way mirror.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ He paused. ‘Of course with this being a suicide case I can’t order him down to the station. I can only invite him.’

Alex Randall dreaded having to face Aaron Sedgewick again. He was convinced the man would hold him and the police investigation responsible for his wife’s death. So when he connected with Sedgewick he was fully prepared for a battle. But to his surprise Sedgewick was relatively polite over the phone. Randall had fully expected that Aaron Sedgewick would want to be in control and had offered to interview him at his home but no, Sedgewick was adamant he would attend the police station. ‘If you don’t mind,’ he said angrily, ‘I’ve had quite enough of the police poking around my house. I can’t see why you feel the need to speak to me at all, particularly when I am so obviously busy with my family problems but if you insist and it means I can bury my dearest wife . . .’ There was a break in his voice which almost convinced Alex Randall that the man was genuinely grieving. Almost but not quite. It was the first time he had heard the man express any affection towards his wife. His main feeling towards her had seemed to be one of irritation.

‘What time do you want me?’

‘As soon as possible.’ Randall paused. ‘Let’s get it over and done with, sir.’

‘I’ll be down within half an hour although I want it registered that I consider it a gross intrusion by the police at a very difficult time for me.’

Fine, Alex thought as he put the phone down. Just fine.

He rang Martha straightaway and was not surprised when she agreed to witness the interview from behind a one-way mirror. He was looking forward to hearing her observations.

It was six p.m. by the time the three of them were assembled, Martha stationed behind the one-way mirror. Randall found Aaron Sedgewick in more of a state of shock than he had expected. He arrived looking pinched and pale and very tired. Unexpectedly Alex felt some pity for him – an emotion he never would have thought he could have applied to Aaron Sedgewick. He sat him down in the interview room and offered him some coffee.

Once they were seated he explained the purpose of inviting him down. ‘This is an informal interview,’ he began. ‘There are no charges. I simply need to explain to you the findings of the post-mortem and to clarify one or two points.’ He met Sedgewick’s eyes. ‘I apologize for the intrusion but you must understand we, the police, have a job to do. Your wife’s death is unexplained.’ He paused. ‘As yet.’

Immediately Sedgewick began to bluster. The détente was over. ‘What do you mean, unexplained? It’s obvious what happened. The police have been harassing her since she took that horrible thing up to the hospital. God knows why she did that but that is what she did. My wife . . .’ He looked around hopelessly, crumpling before Randall’s eyes. ‘My wife is . . . was . . .’ he corrected, ‘a very fragile woman.’

‘Why?’ Randall asked bluntly.

‘There is no why,’ Sedgewick snapped. ‘She just was. That’s the only why. It was her mental make-up, if you like.’

‘So you would not be surprised if she had committed suicide?’

‘No.’ Sedgewick frowned thoughtfully. ‘Not really. Alice was a vulnerable woman.’

Randall pressed on. ‘But you understand that without a letter of explanation we don’t know exactly what happened, what state of mind she was in, what finally tipped her over the edge. After all – it’s a week since her visit to the Royal Shrewsbury and she seemed to be coping well.’

Sedgewick leaned forward, a fire burning in his eyes. ‘Isn’t it bloody obvious what tipped her over the edge? This ridiculous hounding of our old property. Yesterday you found some bones.’

Alex felt himself grow hot with embarrassment. ‘They were animal bones.’

‘Right.’ If anything, Aaron Sedgewick’s eyes blazed even more furiously. ‘You are telling me,’ he said speaking very slowly and deliberately, ‘that my wife probably committed suicide over a few
animal
bones?’

‘If that’s why she did it,’ Randall admitted. ‘We can’t know for sure, Mr Sedgewick, without a note.’ Alex had put the ball neatly right back into Mr Sedgewick’s court but Aaron wasn’t about to give up. ‘Why on earth did you have to dig up that wretched patio?’

‘It was a necessary part of our investigation.’

‘But why make it public?’

Randall felt bound to defend himself. ‘We didn’t, deliberately. Unfortunately the story leaked out and we had no control over what was printed.’

‘If you say so,’ Sedgewick said wearily.

‘You know a post-mortem was performed on your wife this morning?’

Sedgewick winced.

Alex ploughed on. ‘I’m sorry to have to inform you that it appears your wife took her own life using a mixture of barbiturates, which she had been prescribed by a doctor, along with alcohol. Did she give you any clue that this was her intention?’

‘No. Not when I last saw her.’

‘Which was? Just for the record?’

‘I left for Leicester on Tuesday night,’ he said. ‘She seemed quiet, a little withdrawn but I wasn’t worried about her.’ He looked up. ‘If I had been I would not have gone on a business trip. You understand?’

Alex nodded. ‘Your wife has appeared extremely disturbed by recent events.’

‘Well – wouldn’t your wife be just a little troubled by this?’

Alex’s face darkened. Had Sedgewick been observant he would have seen the inspector’s face twist with pain. But Aaron Sedgewick was noticing nothing. Martha, however, didn’t miss it. She watched Alex Randall as he regained control of himself and continued.

‘When did you last speak to your wife, Mr Sedgewick?’

Martha leaned forward to catch Sedgewick’s words.

‘Yesterday morning. She sounded well. And Acantha keeps an eye on her, of course.’

‘And you haven’t found a note somewhere in the house?’

‘No.’

There had been, Martha thought, the very slightest of hesitations. To such a simple question?

It seemed Alex had picked up on something too because he went over the point again, carefully. ‘Not addressed to you or your daughter – or your son – or even Mrs Palk? The two seemed close.’

‘No,’ Sedgewick said, deliberately aggressive. ‘I said no. That’s the truth. If she did, as you say, deliberately take a fatal dose of her tablets, she must have done it on impulse.’ He frowned and looked up. ‘How can you know she did it deliberately? It’s pure supposition on your part. You can’t possibly know. It could have been an accident.’ His face changed, became softer. ‘Maybe she had a bit to drink and forgot how many tablets she’d already taken.’ He obviously liked this explanation. His face relaxed.

But Alex was not going to let him off the hook. ‘Did your wife have a drink problem?’

Sedgewick wasn’t quite sure how to answer this question. ‘Not a drink problem,’ he said slowly. ‘But sometimes she had a little more than was wise. It made her rather emotional. Shall we leave it at that?’ With an effort he lifted his eyes up to meet Alex’s. Martha knew that this admission had cost Sedgewick something.

Randall thought for a minute then nodded his head slowly. ‘Without a note I have no option but to agree.’ He met Sedgewick’s eyes. ‘Had there been a note it might have provided some explanation of her actions last week. I suppose it’s possible that your wife did not mean to kill herself. In which case we can discuss the circumstances with the coroner and possibly have an accidental death verdict. We may even be asked to look into the impact of our investigation, together with the effect the newspaper story would have had on her already fragile mental state.’

Martha smiled. Randall was well used to her advising him on his job. This was the first time he had directed her. She concentrated on listening to the interview.

‘Do you know whether your wife knew about the discovery of the bones at Bayston Hill?’

‘I don’t know,’ Sedgewick said, ‘but I would have thought it highly probable. It was even on the TV.’ Then as suddenly as a flash of lightning Sedgewick found his temper again. ‘Why didn’t you just leave things alone, inspector? Why did you have to go digging up the past, searching for something you were never going to find, digging up the patio of our old house, making us look so guilty when you must have known we can’t have had anything to do with the death of that thing?’

Alex leaned forward, his face steely. ‘We have to investigate the death of the child, Mr Sedgewick.’

‘But it had nothing to do with us. My wife simply came across the body.’

‘Right.’ Alex Randall shuffled some papers. ‘Well, I’ll share with you some of the anomalies which have bothered us and made us suspicious of you. Can you explain the presence, in your house, of a room specifically decorated for a child when you have no children, no grandchildren and, according to Mrs Sedgewick’s previous statement, no children stay with you? Why have a room for a child that doesn’t exist?’

Sedgewick had his answer polished and ready. ‘She was one of those women who looked forward to the day when she would have grandchildren. And of course, she had an
interest
in the doll’s house.’

He hadn’t used any adjective to describe his wife’s interest in doll’s houses but Randall had the feeling if he had he would have used the word ‘sad’ or ‘pathetic’. There was something demeaning in his tone.

Behind the mirror Martha had noted the same point. Whatever Aaron Sedgewick said about his wife, he had despised her, she decided. Alice Sedgewick had not counted. She sat and thought about this, feeling that this was somehow significant but unsure how it fitted into the wider picture. This case was like one of those apparently simple Chinese Puzzles which can frustrate you for days on end. The more uncomplicated they appear the more complex the solution.

‘And you still can’t explain your wife’s behaviour on taking the baby’s body to the hospital?’

‘No.’ The answer came quickly; the explanation took only a minute longer. ‘Shock,’ he said firmly.

‘And you insist you know nothing about the baby’s body?’

Sedgewick’s face was thunderous now. ‘No,’ he said.

‘And you don’t know why she called the little boy Poppy?’

‘No,’ he shouted again. ‘I don’t know anything about the wretched child or why my wife should have behaved in such an illogical way unless it’s simply another part of wanting to be a grandmother.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. And I haven’t the faintest idea why she should commit suicide unless it was the obvious suspicion you people have had of her.’ The affectation of care had dropped. He now sounded angry – both with the police and his recently dead wife. ‘You’ve hounded a vulnerable woman. I shall speak to Mrs Palk about it.’

‘Ah yes.’ Alex picked up on the point. ‘Mrs Palk. Why did she have a key to your house?’

Martha practically rubbed her hands together. Alex Randall was asking all the
right
questions.

‘She used to check up on the house when we were away,’ Sedgewick said. ‘That’s all.’

It was a logical reason but Alex felt the need to probe a little further. ‘It was nothing to do with checking up on your wife while you were on business trips?’

‘No.’ Said tightly.

‘And yet,’ Alex said with a smile, ‘that was what finally happened, wasn’t it, Mr Sedgewick?’

Sedgewick nodded, thought for a moment then said, ‘You need to be looking for someone different, inspector.’

‘Explain.’

‘It’s a class thing,’ Sedgewick said angrily. ‘You need to be looking for some vulnerable young woman who didn’t want a child. Not amongst people like myself and my wife. It’s a class thing,’ he repeated.

Alex stood up and proffered his hand. ‘Thank you very much, Mr Sedgewick. You’ve been a great help.’ Sedgewick failed to pick up on the fact that the inspector’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.