‘And you think the person who did this to the newborn liked children, Alex?’
He was initially silent, but finally spoke. ‘I see where you’re coming from, Martha, but…’ Then resuming his subject he added, ‘And then there is old Mrs Isaac and her family who fit even less into the picture.’
She interrupted him then. ‘Alex, it’s a bit early. Do you know what time the post-mortem’s scheduled for?’
‘Not yet, Martha. I’m hoping Mark will fit it in some time today.’
‘Hmm. I’m going to have to talk to Aaron Sedgewick,’ she said. ‘Preferably as soon as possible after the post-mortem.’
A suicide, she was thinking. Like Finton Cley’s father. Only this time there was no note so the verdict could be questioned. That was why she was so insistent that Alex Randall check on Aaron Sedgewick’s movements the night his wife died.
‘Have you any plans to interview him?’
‘At some point, yes. I’ll have to, Martha.’
‘You know,’ she hesitated. ‘If you want my advice you’ll do that sooner rather than later.’
‘Thank you for that, Martha.’ She knew he was smiling as he spoke.
‘And now having done half a day’s work, I suppose I’d better get out of bed,’ she said. ‘See you later.’
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
Randall 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.