‘So you came in to her room…’
‘And there she was before us, on the Chinese mat, just as you saw her.’
Taking the air in fact involved a walk to the shops, the Duty Manager having identified an item missing from the kitchen’s stores,
‘Some of the oldest residents are of a generation where fresh oranges are still a treat — can you believe that? If I’m honest I’m just glad to get away from that place for a while. Will we need to hurry back?’
Grey wasn’t sure they did, provided she kept answering his questions,
‘And then?’
‘And then I called you, or rather the emergency services.’
‘And nothing else? No reaction?’
‘From me?’
‘Why not.’
She smiled a weary smile, ‘I expect I’ve found half of those who’ve died there since taking on this job.’
‘And what of Ms Dunbar’s friend, this Mr Prove?’
‘Charlie is a very sensitive man, Inspector. I left him in the dayroom with the others, being comforted by friends.’
‘So, he did respond?’
‘Really quite dramatically, yes.’
‘But not yourself?’
‘I’ve told you, this is part of my role.’
‘What, finding bodies? Even we’re not used to that.’
‘You grow necessarily hard to it. People come to the Cedars for comfort and safety when they may be old and frail and nearing their end. You see a person every day full of life and light, but know that they could go at any time, and that it may be you to find them.’
‘And finding Ms Dunbar was no different?’
The Duty Manager paused on the pavement, ‘Stella Dunbar was as fine a woman, as fine a person as I have known. I doubt if there’s another left in the world I trust as much as I did her. Now if you have any more-practical questions..?’
Practical was good, practical was exactly what he needed. As they got going again, he asked,
‘So have you already contacted next of kin? You know we’ll need to talk to them.’
‘I would have done that as soon as I’d called you, but in this case it hasn’t been so easy.’
‘Go on.’
Fears of a stonewalling similar to Derek Waldron’s on the issue were unfounded, as she offered copious information albeit none of it what he needed,
‘Of course we keep a register of next of kin, updated twice a year, given the situation with some resident’s frailty as I’ve described; but Stella always left her space blank.’
‘So she had no family?’
‘It wasn’t even just that… it was as if in leaving the space empty she was denying even the question of family, not even admitting if she did or didn’t have any. She was telling us we had no right to ask.’
‘Do many others choose to do this?’
‘Asking them to fill in the register isn’t an act of choice more than one of compulsion, an unwritten rule of their agreement.’
‘So what of Mrs Cuthbert? You had trouble contacting her relatives.’
‘Ah, now she did had a relative in the register, only one who couldn’t be bothered to ever reply to the letters we sent them.’
‘They might have moved away?’
‘The might have, or might not have.’
‘You don’t seem shocked.’
‘The Trust have paid for funerals before.’
‘So Ms Dunbar was unique in this not answering?’
‘Yes and no: obviously some don’t have family, have no name to put down if they wanted to, but then that is an act of sadness which I note and then don’t ask of again.’
‘But when Ms Dunbar didn’t fill the register in, it wasn’t this same sadness you felt?’
‘No, more a seriousness, a considered refusal to answer; which if it was simply that she had no relations, then why not say?’
‘So, residents without relations, what happens to their flats after..?’
‘We have the residents make wills with Mrs Rossiter, or at least inform her where theirs are lodged if they have their own solicitor.’
‘So you have somewhere to send the proceeds of the Cuthbert flat?’
‘Yes. I wonder if her relatives will respond more positively to a cheque?’
Grey smiled at this, while again impressed at how tightly the Trust had these matters tied up; but he hadn’t time to linger on the thought as, unlike with Derek Waldron, Rachel Sowton’s answers were coming thick and fast,
‘Stella always said to me at register time, “Rachel, if you love me do this for me and let me leave it blank — If I fall ill I’ll settle my own medical bills, if I die then sell my flat and put the money to the extensions.”’
‘Extensions?’
‘We had plans to expand, to build four new flats where those old garages are — no one uses them hardly now — and then there’s the age-old issue of fitting a lift, though it’s so difficult in an old building like this… Anyway, I think these promises for the future were Stella’s way of making up for, well, of course you wouldn’t know…’
‘For not letting new residents into Mrs Cuthbert’s rooms next door to her?’
‘Derek’s told you about that then? Yes, it was as though she was saying, My caprices may cost you money now, but you’ll make a killing out of me once I’m dead. Oh my, what have I just said.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s the questions I’m asking, don’t feel bad.’
He didn’t tell her she had just given him his first motive for the murder. But as they were on the subject,
‘I’m sorry to ask, but someone needs to answer this: can you think of anyone who’d want to harm Stella, even ague with her; anyone she’d fallen out with, perhaps another resident?’
The questions felt absurd even as he asked it and she had no clear answer. By now they had reached the shops in the High Street, and he waited for her outside the grocers. When she returned he tried safer ground,
‘Got everything you wanted?’
‘Could you hold these?’
He took the small bag of fruit to leave her hands free to light another cigarette from a fresh pack.
‘Thanks. I can’t even smoke in my room now, you know. It drives me potty.’
Although the kind of woman Grey guessed it would be hard to do anything chivalrous for, she didn’t think to ask for the grocery bag back and nor did he offer it, glad to do even the smallest thing for her at such a trying time,
‘If you don’t mind a couple more questions…’
‘Fire away.’
‘These might seem odd in the circumstances, but you knew her routine and so might be the one to answer them: what time would she close the curtains, put her pyjamas on?’
‘No, Inspector, those are excellent questions, the very best kind. I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing myself; only the answers don’t add up. I don’t want to go back yet — sit with me?’
Just before they reached the Cedars was a bench that looked across to the trees that gave the building its name. Placed there with the oranges between them, she continued,
‘Tell me, Inspector: I wish I’d thought to look at the time, but was her bed disturbed? Had she been in it yet that evening?’
‘Undisturbed,’ he recalled Cori saying.
‘Then we’re looking at a very narrow window, but at the wrong time.’
‘Go on.’
‘Stella was one of those for whom late nights weren’t a pleasure but a chore — after a certain time she
