The supper lived up to expectations and a little over an hour later she was sitting across the room speaking to Alex Randall.
As she had surmised from the phone call he appeared a little better than yesterday. Still tense around the mouth but his dark eyes sparkled as he shook hands with her.
She poured them both a drink and he got straight into it.
‘This is the first contact your mysterious person has made since…?’ He looked up questioningly.
‘It’s been months, Alex,’ she said. ‘I haven’t heard anything for ages.’ She smiled. ‘All quiet on the Western Front. But then there was the phone call and today this arrived in my post.’
He studied the typed address on the envelope: Martha Gunn, Coroner, Coroner’s Office, Bayston Hill, Shrewsbury, Shropshire . No postcode. Then he slipped on a pair of latex gloves and slid the card out. ‘It’ll have my prints on it,’ she said, apologetically. ‘I didn’t know what it was.’
Alex Randall studied the card. It was the sort of note one might leave on a colleague’s desk. ‘Martha,’ it read, ‘please pick up your messages.’
He frowned. ‘It has to be someone who has had dealings with you professionally.’
‘I thought that. But where would I start? I meet upset relatives, angry relatives, grieving relatives every day of my life. Plenty of them. By the very nature of my job I deal with unexpected tragedy.’
Alex gave one of his oddly attractive, twisted smiles. Even in that there was still some residual sadness. ‘I suppose you do, Martha,’ he said gently. ‘I never really thought about your work like that but it is all about death. And I suppose in the wake of that does come anger and sadness. Have you had anyone blame you for something?’
‘I suppose so but I can’t think of anyone or anything specific.’
Alex leaned back in his seat. ‘Well I can’t really justify having you watched, Martha, but we can put a check on your phone calls if you like.’
‘That might be an idea but… I worry. I’d prefer a phone call to him coming out here. Maybe it’s better to…’
‘I’ll ask the patrol cars to drive up here when they go round,’ he said eventually. ‘No harm in that. We’ll keep an eye out for you. I think for now that’s the best course of action.’ He stood up. ‘Keep me informed and if you feel more vulnerable I’ll have to reconsider.’ He gave a boyish, attractive smile. ‘We can’t have our coroner under threat.’
She saw him to the door. ‘I suppose,’ she said as they parted, ‘I’m worried this will escalate.’
His eyes were on her and she felt a sudden shock. He had a job to do. She knew that. But the concern in his eyes had been more than that. It had been quite personal.
‘Thank you,’ she said and held out her hand. He took it but it was less of a formal shaking of hands than a touching. She stood in the doorway and watched until his car tail lights disappeared down the track.
SIX
Wednesday January 13th
The day started badly. A snow storm had made Alex Randall late for work. It didn’t help matters that as he was hanging up his coat he heard shouting and a blustering, bullying tone from outside his office. Aaron Sedgewick was back and was making his presence felt.
His door was pushed open and a tall, spare man with a hooked nose wearing a crumpled, expensive-looking suit stormed in. ‘What the hell is going on?’
Alex faced him, trying to bury the fact that his temper was slowly rising. ‘Mr Sedgewick, I presume?’ His tone was icily polite. ‘I’m the senior investigating officer, Detective Inspector Alex Randall. Why don’t you sit down and I can fill you in on the details of the case and your wife’s involvement.’
Aaron Sedgewick bumped down suspiciously on the chair, watching Randall through hooded, hostile eyes.
Alex crossed the room to close the door behind them with deliberation, then returned to his chair. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘It’ll probably make things easier and save time if you tell me what you already know.’
His calm manner had an effect on Aaron Sedgewick. He looked at Alex with grudging respect, rubbing his thin wrist with bony fingers as though his cuff was chafing him. ‘I know that my wife found a dead child in our attic and that she took it to the Royal Shrewsbury Hospital,’ he said steadily, ‘on Saturday night.’
‘Correct.’
‘I can’t see that this is a crime,’ Sedgewick said tightly. ‘She didn’t do anything except her citizen’s duty.’
Alex leaned forward. ‘Is your wife under arrest?’
‘As I understand it, no.’
‘Has she been charged with anything?’
‘No.’
He was practically having to squeeze the answers out of him. ‘So what’s your problem, Mr Sedgewick? We’ve merely been trying to find out who the child is, how it came to its death and who concealed it in your attic.’ He faced the man with a stony face. ‘What else would you expect us to do?’
‘Alice does not know anything,’ Aaron said with tightly reined control. ‘She does not know.’
‘She might not,’ Alex returned, ‘but there are certain anomalies in her story, small inconsistencies, which have worried us and which need explaining.’
‘Such as?’ He barked out the words.
‘Mr Sedgewick,’ Alex said politely. ‘This is an ongoing police investigation. We need to find out who the child is and whether your wife has any involvement-’
Aaron Sedgewick practically exploded. He half stood up. ‘You cannot believe my wife…’ His voice trailed away. Something had caused him to have a sudden loss of confidence. He snapped his mouth shut.
‘We simply want the truth,’ Alex said sternly, adding more softly, ‘it’s imperative.’
Aaron Sedgewick sat back in his chair, his eyes still bulging with fury, but he had lost some of his bluster.
Alex spoke again. ‘I take it you deny any knowledge of this incident?’
Aaron Sedgewick frowned and nodded. ‘Absolutely nothing,’ he said tightly.
‘Well. There are a few ways in which you can help us,’ Alex said in a conciliatory tone.
‘Such as?’
‘I understand that you bought your house around five years ago?’
‘That’s correct.’ Aaron Sedgewick had recovered some of his equilibrium. His tone now was sarcastic.
‘From a couple called Mr and Mrs Godfrey?’
Sedgewick nodded.
‘Tell me about them?’
‘They were in their early forties. They’d made a lot of money and wanted to go and live in Spain. They were nice people.’
‘Did they have any children?’
It was obviously something Sedgewick hadn’t considered. ‘No-o,’ he said, ‘at least I don’t think so. I don’t remember any.’
‘Were there toys around the house?’
Sedgewick shook his head. ‘Not that I noticed.’
‘Were any of the rooms decorated in children’s wallpaper?’
Another shake of the head.
‘Bikes, prams, pushchairs – anything like that around?’
‘No.’ Said resolutely. ‘At least – not that I remember.’
‘And Mrs Godfrey wasn’t pregnant?’
‘Not noticeably.’
‘Right. Do you have a forwarding address for the Godfreys?’
‘No.’
‘Did any mail come for them?’
‘No. I assumed they had made an arrangement with the post office to have their mail redirected. It’s what we did. All our dealings were through the estate agent.’
Aaron Sedgewick was calming down.
‘Do you know how long they had lived in number 41?’
‘Not that long, I got the impression. A couple of years.’
‘I don’t suppose you know who they had bought the house from?’
‘Not a clue.’