Unnatural Wastage (6 page)

‘Suppose what?' said Rathbone impatiently.

‘It's just that I believe he and Sukey have been seeing each other quite a lot lately.'

‘It wouldn't surprise me. They're neighbours. What of it?'

‘Well, Sarge, there's been a lot of stuff in the papers lately about journalists finding out personal details of people involved in criminal cases by hacking into their mobile phones and listening to their voice mail. Could that be how Harry Matthews got his information about Fenella?'

Rathbone frowned. ‘I've always thought him pretty high principled in spite of being a journalist. I wouldn't like to think of him turning out to be that sort of low life, especially as he's a friend of Sukey's.' He thought for a moment. ‘I'm pretty sure, from what Matthews said just now, that everything he knew was already public knowledge. Donaldson isn't exactly a shrinking violet – he'll talk to anyone who'll listen.'

‘So what happens next, Sarge?'

‘As far as you and I are concerned, a quick snack in the canteen before our appointment with Doctor Ellerman. A word of warning,' he added drily. ‘Mind you don't fall under the spell of his fatal charm!'

‘You can see why they need new premises,' Rathbone remarked as they approached the three-storey red-brick building. ‘That pile was put up at the beginning of the last century; it was probably the last word in high-tech disguised as architecture in those days.'

‘It looks more like a country house from here,' Penny remarked as, after they had been admitted by a uniformed guard, they drove through the gates and followed the drive that ran through well-tended lawns bordered by flower beds on either side. ‘You'd never associate it with an industrial company.'

‘Wait till you get round the back,' said Rathbone.

Following the signs, Penny found a space in the car park and switched off the ignition. ‘Yes, I see what you mean, Sarge,' she said, glancing at the heaps of metalwork and various unidentifiable pieces of machinery which were being loaded on to heavy trucks. ‘It looks like a scrap-metal yard.'

‘Which is more or less what it is,' commented Rathbone. ‘Most of that stuff is well past its sell-by date. That's why the company's moving to a new purpose-built factory. I wonder if our friend Ellerman will be one of the unfortunate victims of “natural wastage”,' he added as they made their way to the front of the building and entered by the main door. ‘It could be that his arrogant manner is a cover-up and that he's as scared of losing his job as the rest of the staff.'

The receptionist smiled and nodded as she inspected their IDs and said, ‘Doctor Ellerman is expecting you so please go up. His office is on the second floor.'

‘I hope this lift doesn't break down,' said Penny as the old-fashioned metal cage creaked its way upwards.

‘It's in keeping with the terminal state of the premises,' commented Rathbone.

Ellerman's office was at the front of the building overlooking the garden. On this bright summer afternoon the room had a cheerful aspect, despite the dark panelling on the walls, the dull red carpet and curtains and the narrow sash windows. On a sunless day in winter it would, Penny thought, be thoroughly depressing.

When they entered, Ellerman was seated behind a huge mahogany desk. Two chairs had been placed in readiness facing him, and with a gesture and a brief, ‘Good afternoon,' he indicated that they should sit down. ‘I see you've brought another attractive member of your harem, Sergeant,' he said, with an approving glance at Penny.

‘DC Osborne is a valued and highly professional member of the team that is currently investigating the murder of Fenella Tremaine,' said Rathbone.

‘I'm sure she is,' said Ellerman, showing no sign of being abashed by the detective's curt tone. ‘Let's have your first question, Sergeant.'

‘First of all,' Rathbone took from his briefcase a photograph of the murder weapon, ‘Do you by any chance recognize this knife – or can you recall seeing one like it?'

‘I take it this is the murder weapon?' Ellerman studied the picture briefly and handed it back. ‘I've seen plenty of knives with this sort of handle in India – they're in all the tourist shops.'

‘Do you own one?'

‘Do I look like someone who brings back kitsch from oriental bazaars?'

‘When I was in your flat yesterday I happened to notice two cushions on which elephants were embroidered with silver threads. They looked to me as if they might come from India.'

‘Oh, those.' Ellerman appeared for the moment nonplussed, but quickly recovered. ‘Frankly I think they're hideous but my wife – my late wife, that is – persuaded me to buy them. I keep meaning to throw them out, but somehow I've hung on to them for sentimental reasons.'

‘That's understandable, sir. Now, with regard to the knife, do you happen to know anyone who owns one of a similar design to this?'

Ellerman hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking his head and saying a firm, ‘No. Next question?'

‘All right.' Rathbone put the photograph away. ‘Now, Doctor Ellerman, you have already admitted that you and Fenella Tremaine had your differences. Were they confined to your business relationship?'

Ellerman sat up straight and gripped the arms of his chair. ‘What are you suggesting?' he demanded.

‘I'm not suggesting anything, sir. I'm merely asking a simple question. Let me put it another way. Apart from your professional disagreements, what was your personal relationship with Ms Tremaine?'

‘There was nothing whatsoever about our relationship that you could describe as personal, except that I didn't like her.'

‘She appears to have been a very attractive woman and I've noticed you have, shall we say, an eye for the ladies.'

Ellerman gave a dismissive snort. ‘I can still admire a pretty woman, Sergeant, but Fenella Tremaine was definitely not my type. For one thing, she had a very aggressive manner that made me – and quite a few other people – want to disagree with her even when she was in the right.'

‘For example?'

‘There was a bit of a problem recently with people lighting a barbecue on their balcony. It happens now and again and it isn't usually a problem, but on this occasion they were having a bit of trouble which meant there was rather a lot of smoke and some people couldn't sit on their balconies. Fenella went storming round and told them they were causing a nuisance and threatened to report them to the management. They're a very nice young couple who've only been here a short time and they were really upset and embarrassed, especially as she was delivering this tirade in front of their guests.'

‘Not exactly the most tactful way of dealing with the situation,' commented Rathbone.

‘Tact wasn't her strong point, Sergeant.'

‘What would you say were her good points?'

‘Well . . .' Ellerman frowned and thought for a moment. ‘I'm sure she had very high principles and she took pride in her surroundings and often made sensible suggestions for the way the estate is run, but –' he spread his hands in what seemed to Penny an uncharacteristically helpless gesture – ‘I suppose the kindest thing I can personally say about her is that on the whole she meant well.'

‘Thank you for your frankness, sir,' said Rathbone. ‘Now, I understand you have a residents' association here – was she on the committee or did she have any official standing?'

‘She used to be on the committee; she got someone to nominate her as treasurer a year or two ago but she didn't get enough support so she resigned in a huff.'

‘So who is treasurer?'

‘I am.'

‘I understand that at a recent meeting of the residents' association you had a disagreement with her that more than one witness described as “rather heated”.'

‘Oh, you heard about that did you?' said Ellerman through his teeth. ‘She was questioning the way the sinking fund is handled in the accounts. It was just nit-picking really; the stupid bitch always had to find something to complain about.'

‘Could that be said about your differences here?'

Ellerman was silent for several seconds. ‘Not really. I have to admit that she does know her stuff when it comes to accountancy; our differences were more about admin, how the department should be run and so on.'

‘How well are you getting on with the new managing director – Mr Anton Maxworth?'

Again Ellerman hesitated. ‘All right so far.'

‘And Ms Tremaine?'

‘Let's say she was careful to keep on the right side of him.'

‘Doctor Ellerman, I want your honest opinion on what could be a very significant factor in this case,' said Rathbone. ‘Under the proposed reorganization of the company, it seems likely there will be changes in your department – changes which may mean some of the staff losing their jobs.' He paused; Ellerman waited impassively for him to continue. ‘If one single person within the company were to be appointed to run the entire department, it appears that you and Ms Tremaine would be the most likely candidates. That's right, isn't it?'

Ellerman nodded. ‘I suppose so.'

‘And the loser might be without a job?'

Suddenly Ellerman leaned forward and banged his fist on the desk. ‘It's obvious isn't it?' he shouted, ‘All right, I did see her as a rival, but if you think I killed her just to clear the field for myself you can think again. I'm not saying another word without my solicitor.'

‘What did you make of that, Penny?' asked Rathbone as they made their way back to reception, using the stairs this time as the lift was engaged.

‘Well, Sarge, the statements from the paramedics described the knife in Fenella's back as looking “sort of oriental” and he quite likely overheard them talking about it.'

‘So?'

‘So he was obviously prepared to be shown a picture of it and asked if he recognized it, and his reply came out so pat it was almost as if he'd decided how to answer in advance.'

Rathbone gave an approving nod. ‘Go on.'

‘When you started questioning him about the cushions and went on to ask him if he or anyone he knew owned a knife similar to the murder weapon, he seemed to tighten up. Suppose he was lying and that he does own such a knife? He's never attempted to hide the animosity between him and Fenella – in fact he made a point of telling us about it before anyone else did – but it was when you as good as suggested that with her out of the way the job was as good as his that he started to lose it. Even if he didn't kill her, it must have hit him that he's a prime suspect, which won't do his chances of promotion much good.'

‘Very well put, Penny,' said Rathbone as they reached the bottom of the stairs and returned to reception. ‘I can see you weren't deceived by the spot of flattery he threw in your direction!'

‘I thought it was a bit pathetic, Sarge.'

‘No threat to PC Dandridge of Neighbourhood Watch?'

She gave a shy smile. ‘Definitely not.'

‘Good. Now for Mr Anton Maxworth.'

‘Mr Wilkins?' The man stopped and switched off the machine with which he was vacuuming up odd leaves and scraps of rubbish from the paths round Sycamore Park. ‘Yes?'

‘Detective Constable Haskins.' Mike held up his ID. ‘Could I have a word? I was hoping to catch you yesterday, but you weren't at home.'

‘It was my day off and I spent it with my mother.' Wilkins stared fixedly, first at the card and then at Mike, before saying uneasily, ‘I've told your people everything I know.'

‘That was on Saturday, shortly after you discovered Ms Tremaine's body,' Haskins reminded him. ‘At the time you were – understandably – in a state of shock. We're hoping that now you've had time to recover you may be able to recall something that slipped your mind at the time . . . something that could help us find the lady's killer.'

‘I've been over it in my mind enough times and nothing new has come up.'

‘Just the same, I'd like to run through it with you once more,' Haskins insisted.

Wilkins gave a resigned shrug. ‘All right. What do you want to know?'

‘It's a bit public here,' Haskins objected. During their brief exchange two people had walked by on their way to the car park; each had raised a hand and greeted Wilkins while casting unmistakably curious glances at the detective as they passed. ‘Why don't we go to your place?'

Wilkins shrugged, pushed the machine into an open garage that housed among other items the trolley he used for transporting bags of waste, and closed the door. He remained silent as he led the way to his flat, but the minute they were inside with the door closed behind them, and before Haskins had time to utter a word, he said in a hoarse, unsteady voice, ‘I swear to God that I didn't do it!' He rubbed sweating hands on his jeans and gazed at Haskins in obvious terror. ‘I can guess what some of them have been saying among themselves and it's true she gave me a hard time once or twice, but I never laid a finger on her. You must believe me!'

‘Take it easy, Mr Wilkins,' said Haskins. ‘No one's accusing you of anything, but the fact that you discovered the body makes you a key witness. We need all the help we can get in tracking down Ms Tremaine's killer. Now, why don't we go and sit down and talk calmly?'

‘If you say so.' Wilkins led the way into his sitting room and slumped into a chair. ‘OK, let's get it over with.'

‘We have reason to believe,' Haskins began, ‘that she had, shall we say, differences of opinion with a number of people at Sycamore Park and inevitably there has been a certain amount of gossip. Several witnesses have referred to occasions when she has been heard criticizing various members of the maintenance staff, including you, for the way they carry out their duties. You said just now that she “gave you a hard time once or twice”. Would you like to be a little more specific?'