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.
The man reluctantly shook his hand and Alex ushered him out of the interview room.
Minutes later he was speaking to Martha. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘What did you make of that?’
‘Two things,’ she said slowly. ‘He did put his finger on the pulse about it being a class thing but I’ve got a feeling we’re looking at this from the wrong angle. Let me think about it, Alex.’
‘And the other thing?’ Alex asked curiously.
‘He’s quite disdainful of family life,’ she said. ‘And again I’m wondering what bearing that can have had on this.’
‘Not very helpful, Martha,’ Alex said, smiling.
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘You know, Alex…’ She paused. ‘I still think he’s hiding something from you.’
He nodded in agreement.
‘Well, I shall have to speak to him myself later. I’ll get Jericho to give him a ring on Monday morning. What’s your next step?’
‘Speak to Dr Richmond,’ he said, ‘and I’m not looking forward to it. I think he’ll be a slippery customer – and on the defensive.’
‘Well. Time to go home for me,’ she said, ‘and hope Agnetha’s cooked the tea.’
Randall’s face clouded. ‘Yes.’
She picked her coat up off the chair. ‘Keep in touch, Alex.’
‘I will.’
She smiled. ‘Good luck,’ she said and left.
There was no point trying to get hold of Dr Richmond on a Friday evening, so Alex had to leave it to the Monday morning. He tracked his telephone number down easily enough in his private clinic and found him, as expected, in a defensive mood. ‘Dr Richmond, I believe you treated the late Alice Sedgewick?’
‘Late?’ the doctor queried sharply.
‘Yes. It appears she committed suicide on Thursday evening with a combination of alcohol and a fatal dose of barbiturates, tablets I believe you had prescribed for her.’
‘It’s correct,’ the doctor said stiffly. ‘I did prescribe barbiturates for her. She suffered from intractable insomnia and severe depression and as the NICE guidelines recommend benzodiazepines for this condition I prescribed them.’ He paused, mid flow. ‘I gave her strict instructions about dosing and told her that she was not to take them with alcohol.’
‘What was the cause of her depression?’
‘Come on, inspector,’ he said testily. ‘You know I can’t divulge that.’
‘You can with permission from the Medical Defence Union when it’s in the patient’s interest.’ He waited but the doctor was not offering anything more.
‘It’s possible the coroner might ask you further questions. I’m surprised that knowing of our involvement in this case you didn’t come forward and at least tell us she was vulnerable and having treatment from you.’
‘That too would have been divulging information.’
‘Did you consider her a suicide risk?’
Dr Richmond took a long time considering this question. ‘Not really,’ he finally said.
‘Even with the added stress of recent events?’
‘I haven’t seen her for a few weeks, inspector.’ He was being a little more polite now.
‘This is a private service. If she had asked to see me I would have seen her but she didn’t.’
‘Does that surprise you?’
For once Dr Richmond showed his human side. ‘Nothing my patients do surprises me,’ he said. ‘Patients are patients. Frequently unpredictable.’
‘Did she suffer from delusions?’
‘No.’ The doctor was insistent. ‘She was not psychotic – merely depressed.’
‘Thank you, doctor. ‘We’ll be in touch and you’ll be summoned to appear at the inquest, so might I suggest that you clarify things with your defence union.’
The phone was banged down. Alex listened to the dialling tone then rang the coroner’s office.
The first thing Martha had done when she arrived on Monday morning was to ask Jericho to contact Aaron Sedgewick. ‘I take it you heard that Mrs Sedgewick committed suicide on Thursday night?’
Jericho’s eyes brightened. ‘I did,’ he said. ‘It was on the local radio. Poor woman. First she ends up at the hospital with a dead baby. Next she tops herself.’ He risked a look at Martha. ‘Whatever will happen next, I wonder.’
‘Quite,’ she said dryly.
Martha had not been looking forward to this interview but it was unavoidable. Alice Sedgewick had apparently committed suicide and she needed to speak to her next of kin to ascertain the dead woman’s state of mind. She anticipated that considering his frequent business trips Mr Sedgewick would not be an easy person to speak to but he agreed to come to her office at 3 p.m. that afternoon. He was having a busy day, she reflected.
As was her custom she began the interview by offering her condolences. Sedgewick eyed her suspiciously but thanked her and sat down.
‘The evidence appears to indicate that your wife took her own life deliberately,’ she said.