process just to be higher up in the building, and tucked in a corner where only one other resident would ever need to walk past: Mrs Cuthbert, who did nothing more distracting that listen to Radio 3 and keep pot plants.’
‘Did Mrs Cuthbert later became a trustee?’
‘A stalwart — if the history of this place were ever written she’d have a whole chapter.’
‘And when she died?’
‘As I say, this may not show people in the best…’
‘Go on.’
‘I can say it now — Stella used every trick in the book to delay the clearing out of the flat and putting it up for resale. I think it scared her that she’d get the tenant from hell up there, despite it being our decision who was let in. Anyway, it rumbled on for months, and recently we’d just given up mentioning it in Committee meetings. The fact that the Trust was in profit even without that flat’s five thousand a year income allowed us to leave it as the elephant in the room. Stella said she’d look after the plants meanwhile, which we all knew meant that Rachel would look after them. Well, you’ve seen them yourself, those plants just grew and grew: God, it’s like The Drowned World up there, what with Rachel watering them and the sunlight they get in that corridor. We’d have needed a gardener to remove them eventually. In fact, I could get on and arrange it now; or at least when you’re finished up there.’
‘What were her tricks?’
‘Sorry?’
‘How did Stella delay? I need to learn this side of her.’
‘She used the pretext of some letter not being received back from Mrs Cuthbert’s family. You see when a resident dies the Trust instructs Mrs Rossiter, our solicitor, to help the families with flat resale and the disposal of assets. To not hear back from a family usually means she would proceed as usual and the flat’s profits passed on to the beneficiaries; there’s even a proviso in our contracts automatically authorising this: After all, it isn’t as if someone inheriting a flat here could just move in if they weren’t suitable…’
‘I. e. not of retirement age?’
‘And other considerations. Even worse, they might try and sell the flat quickly to someone similarly unfitting. And this isn’t just snobbishness, Inspector: a lot of our residents are old and need a calm, controlled environment. There’s plenty of other places someone young and loud and brash would be happier living. There’s also the fact that we often have a waiting list, and so can make a very good sale for the family.’
‘While also bringing someone in who you’ve already vetted?’
‘Exactly. Everyone wins.’
‘But not this time?’
‘Stella insisted we hear back from Mrs Cuthbert’s family authorising Mrs Rossiter to sell the flat for them; even when she knew as well as any of us that Mrs Cuthbert’s relations were quite distant and hadn’t visited her for years, nor appeared to be making any effort to dispose of the property themselves.’
‘This caused a deadlock?’
‘We couldn’t even announce the vacancy to a couple who’d been waiting for two years.’
‘Stella knew who’d be moving in?’
‘Yes, we’d already met them; lovely people.’
‘So Stella’s response was… irrational, would you say?’
‘I prefer to think of it as a defence mechanism, an automatic response to protect herself, perhaps she not even knowing what from.’
‘Change?’
‘Yes, a knee-jerk fear that new is worse than old, that transition devalues. She could have loved having the new couple as neighbours for all she knew; at least with Mr Tanner’s place falling vacant since then we’ve been able to offer them a place at last.’
‘But the Cuthbert flat..?’
‘I think the situation would have resolved itself in time.’
‘And how would it have ended?’
‘We’d have had to face her down eventually, put it to a vote.’
‘So you were a democracy, you all had equal influence?’
‘There’s influence and influence.’
‘And did she often ride roughshod over the rest of you?’
‘Harsh terms again, Inspector,’ but the man was resigned now to telling it as it was. ‘I’d say she had a certain presence on the Committee; over Rachel too, for she pretty much ran things where she was concerned. Stella was very much more than just a member of the Trust, more like a chairman of the board, with Rachel her manager.’
‘Thank you. I know these aren’t happy questions.’
‘I suppose you have to know; but make no mistake, Inspector: Stella was a force for good, don’t judge her just on this example.’
There was so much Grey needed to know that he wasn’t sure what to ask next,
‘Now you mentioned the girls she tutored, but did she have any other visitors: family, friends, people we need to let know?’
‘No, mostly just her students.’
‘No friends?’
‘We were her friends, we have a very close-knit social group.’
‘I can imagine. And she’d been a teacher, I believe? Any contact from those days?’
‘Not that I recall.’
‘And so,’ he asked again, ‘what about family?’
The man who’d seemed so helpful was going reticent, ‘I knew you’d ask me about that area, and I knew I wouldn’t know what to tell.’
‘Why?’
‘She never liked to talk of her life before Cedars.’
The man seemed to be holding himself together tightly as he said this.
‘Mr Waldron, you’ve trusted me so far; now trust me with this.’
The man stayed silent.
‘Then tell me only what you know of her story, like you did with Charlie’s, for us to sort out.’
But Derek Waldron had slipped into his own defensive mode, perhaps in guilt at what he’d already told,
‘Stella worked hard all her days, educated young minds, paid her own way — and how many can say that in these times? She lived among us happily for decades, was a member of the Trust, was active in the running of the Cedars, was loved and trusted by all she knew, by those she lived with and those who she tutored in the afternoons and whose careers she inestimably brightened. A faultless life, wouldn’t you say? And I for one was proud to know her.’
The picture now being painted was mere hagiography with none of the details Grey needed, interesting only in what it left out: no mention of a boy for the blue bear or of a man for the pocket watch. Listening to this, Grey realised he’d made a mistake talking to a friend of the victim so soon, and who despite initial appearances was clearly not handling his loss any better than those he was seeking to protect were handling theirs.
At the sound of the flat door opening Waldron gathered himself, as if knowing he would soon be saved,
‘Inspector. You began calling her Stella back there, not Ms Dunbar. I think she’d have wanted you to call her that, she did with her closest friends, and there’ll be none closer than you by the end.’
With Grey stunned by this utterance, the conversation had come to a natural pause as Rachel Sowton walked it, her self-control resumed and seemingly unperturbed at seeing the men sat around her living quarters.
‘Rachel, I’ve explained to the Inspector…’ began the still quaking Waldron, but she spoke across him,
‘Inspector, could we take the air? I need a cigarette.’
Chapter 4 — Rachel Sowton
