‘Do any children come and stay with you? Nephews, nieces, children or friends’ children?’
She stared at him. She knew exactly what he was asking.
What is the secret of Poppy’s room?
And she wasn’t going to answer. So Alex Randall smiled and stood up. ‘That’s all for now, thank you.’
Acantha Palk turned as she left the room after her client. ‘And how are your investigations going, inspector?’
He didn’t even attempt to answer the question. She would have seen right through him and know they were not really getting anywhere. He was on the point of dropping the enquiry. But…
When the two women had left Alex sat back and remembered talking to a junior officer about interrogating a suspect. He had analogized the answer to each question to waves moving on the shore, some crashing down with drama and noise, a huge visual experience, which seemed to flood the beach. Others simply slid over the sand, insignificant and quiet. But whatever the size or depth or volume of a wave the tide still came in relentlessly, crawling, creeping, moving up the beach. Investigations moved forward at varying rates and with varying drama, but move forward they did in almost every single case.
The talk had been a few years ago and the junior detective he had been teaching had been Sergeant Paul Talith.
So what had he learned by this interview?
Most importantly of all he had shared Alice’s state of mind when she had discovered the corpse. She had not, however, confided in him the secret of the child’s room. And there was a secret, Alex Randall was certain of it. She was hiding something and he wasn’t absolutely certain that even her friend and solicitor knew what it was. He had read the same doubts and confusion that he felt mirrored in Acantha’s face.
An hour later he had a further unpleasant experience. It began with a phone call from the desk sergeant who sounded grim and pessimistic. ‘Got someone here called Sedgewick,’ he said. ‘Rosie Sedgewick. Says she’s…’
‘I know who she is,’ Alex said wearily. He was heartily sick of the Sedgewick clan. ‘Send her in.’
Rosie Sedgewick was one of those very thin women who appear to have been born with angular features and a sharp, disapproving expression. She’d also been cursed with her father’s hooked nose. The effect was not beautiful.
In addition she had a harsh rasping voice that probably stood her in good stead in the courtroom but grated on the detective. ‘Are you Detective Inspector Randall?’
He winced.
‘I’m Rosie Sedgewick,’ she announced. ‘I’d better warn you that I am a barrister. Now this -’ she sat down – ‘is an informal talk. I want to know why you are continually hounding my mother over this affair.’
‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’
‘I know the facts,’ Rosie said, ‘but my mother was simply the person who stumbled on the body. Why are you still questioning her?’
‘There were a few anomalies in her statement.’
Rosie drew in a deep, sighing breath. ‘Come on, inspector.’ It was a failed attempt at pallyness ‘I’m a lawyer, for goodness sake. Give me one statement that doesn’t have the odd anomaly in it. My mother was very shocked by the discovery and has been very upset at your continued intrusion. I understand you still have your team of bloodhounds at the house and questioned her again only this morning.’
‘That’s correct,’ Alex said. ‘And she appeared well and in full control of herself. The interview did not distress her in any way.’
‘As I understand it,’ Rosie continued, ‘you’re going to be pursuing another line of investigation – the people who lived in number 41 before my parents moved there.’
‘Certainly – that’s correct,’ Alex said.
‘Well, please leave my mother out of this,’ Rosie said. ‘She can be quite vulnerable. It could have a very bad effect on her.’
Randall was surprised at Rosie Sedgewick. If she was a lawyer she couldn’t possibly think that this appeal would cut any ice. It was positively naive. ‘I’m afraid,’ he said carefully, ‘that I can’t promise that.’
‘She has been under a psychiatrist, you know, for depression.’
‘Oh?’ It was news to him and Acantha had not mentioned this.
‘Oh, well.’ Rosie Sedgewick shrugged. ‘Don’t say I haven’t warned you.’
‘Thank you for that.’
They stood up, shook hands and the woman left, leaving Randall staring at the closed door. After a minute he sat back down, calmer. The girl was only trying to protect her mother whom she saw as vulnerable. He must excuse her on those grounds.
He sat at his desk for a while, tapping his fingers against the telephone, trying to come to a decision. Then he decided. He placed a call through to the Spanish police. They were able to provide him with the address and telephone number of Mr and Mrs Godfrey. ‘They have built a lovely hacienda in the hills behind Malaga,’ the policeman, Juan Gonzalez said. ‘A beautiful place. One of our cars drove past earlier on today and there were vehicles outside and signs that they were at home. I have not alerted them in case they do a flit.’ He gave a great belly laugh at his own English colloquialism.
‘Many thanks, señor,’ Alex said politely. ‘I intend coming over to interview them myself this weekend.’
‘You need a car, a police escort?’ Gonzalez sounded eager to be in on the action.
‘No, no. Don’t worry. I’ll hire a car from the airport,’ Alex said. ‘I don’t anticipate any trouble but thanks for your help.’
‘My pleasure, Señor Randall.’
He rang the number Gonzalez had given him and it was quickly answered by a Spanish female.
‘ Senora Godfrey? ’ she responded to his enquiry. ‘ Si, es acqui . You want speak?’
‘ Por favor ,’ Randall said in his very best holiday Spanish accent. He heard the sound of heels clacking across a wooden floor then the phone was picked up.
‘Yeah, who is it?’
He hadn’t been prepared for someone sounding so bored and pissed off. They were in the land of Rioja and sunshine after all. He introduced himself and explained that he was investigating the discovery of a baby’s body in the house they had previously occupied. He left out the facts of the state of the body and that it had been there for a greater number of years than had the Sedgewicks.
‘You can’t think it’s got anything to do with us.’ The woman was sounding indignant but a little less pissed off. The drama had at least roused her from her boredom.
‘I’m sure it hasn’t,’ Alex said smoothly, ‘but we have to pursue enquiries. I’m sure you understand.’
‘Not sure I do, mate.’
‘Well,’ Alex said, ‘I’m proposing flying to Spain this weekend with another officer for the sole purpose of interviewing you and your husband. It would be a great shame for us to have a wasted journey.’
There was a long sigh as though whatever he proposed she would find it tiresome. ‘We’ll be around ’ere most of Saturday. Got a few friends coming over in the evening. It’ll entertain them, I suppose, couple of coppers lurking.’
She sounded so utterly uninterested in the whole process that Alex became irritated. He could have shaken this woman. Behind the discovery of the baby must surely lie some tragic story and she couldn’t have cared less? It made him angry and her next comment was no less infuriating.
‘You come if you want to, mate.’
‘Your husband – will he be there?’
‘Where else would he be? Nothing much to do this time of year except hang around here. The whole place is dead.’
‘Shall we say ten o’clock tomorrow – Saturday – morning then,’ Alex asked.
‘Bit bloody early, mate. Better make it midday.’ There was a throaty chuckle. ‘I just might be up by then. Hangover gone. Know what I mean?’