Frozen Charlotte

‘Make our guests some coffee and you can get me another bloody bottle of wine.’

The girl scuttled out again.

‘Next question?’ she snapped.

‘Did anyone come to the house who was pregnant?’

Petula frowned. ‘What a stupid question,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember that. Possibly. Possibly not. I really haven’t got a clue. I take it the baby wasn’t premature or something?’

‘No. It was full term.’

‘So I would have noticed a bump, wouldn’t I?’

‘I would have thought so.’

‘I mean you can’t hide a bump that bloody big, can you?’

‘Indeed not.’

‘Who lived with you in the house?’

Petula rolled her eyes. ‘It gets worse, don’t it? Just me and my old man, sunshine.’

‘So just the two of you,’ Alex asked carefully.

‘We had a bit of help in the house. Can’t expect me to do the scrubbing and such like.’

‘What sort of help?’

‘I don’t know. Enough to make sure the everyday things were completed.’

‘What sort of help?’ Alex repeated.

‘A couple of maids. They never stay long. Greedy little things. Want money for nothing and then bugger off when they’re bored.

‘Anyone else?’

‘A daily, a gardener. You know – the usual.’

‘The maids?’ Alex questioned delicately.

‘None of them was pregnant. I’d soon have got shot of them if they were. What use would a pregnant maid be,’ she chortled.

There was no answer to that but Alex persisted with the subject.

‘What country were they from?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘So how did you acquire them?’

‘Can’t remember,’ she said dismissively. ‘Probably through an agency.’

Alex held up a finger as though to make absolutely sure he had the facts so far clear in his mind. ‘So as far as you know you are unable to help me establish the identity of the dead child.’

Petula stubbed her cigarette out in her wine glass. ‘Correct,’ she said.

They were distracted by a man in his forties in light coloured trousers and a pale sweater walking into the room. He looked jaunty and bent down to kiss Petula. ‘Hello, ducky,’ he said before extending a hand first to Alex and then to Roberts. ‘I assume you’re the two policemen from Shrewsbury.’

Alex nodded.

‘Rum business. Well, I don’t know how I can help you.’ He waved a decanter around. ‘Drink anyone?’

His wife sighed. ‘Not whisky, Vince.’ She glanced around her. ‘Where’s that bloody girl?’

She gave a loud annoyed sigh and addressed her husband. ‘Nice game, dear?’ There was something a little more than weary in her tone which told them all, including Vince, that she didn’t give a monkey’s rear end whether he had had a nice game or had knocked the ball to the bottom of a pond and not bothered to retrieve it. There was both resentment and a certain reproof in her voice.

Vince Godfrey poured himself a whisky, and flung himself down in one of the cane chairs. It too creaked a little in protestation as though it was a living entity and resented his weight.

‘Now then,’ he said cheerily, leaning back and crossing his legs at the ankles. ‘Fire away.’

‘I understand from your wife that you did some extensive refurbishment of the house in Shrewsbury?’

‘That’s right. Made a lovely job of the place though I understand from various mutual friends that they’ve done it up all over again. Hah.’

‘Yes. You refurbished the entire house?’

‘Top to bottom.’

‘It’s more the top than the bottom that we’re interested in.’

‘The bedrooms?’

‘No. To put it bluntly the hot water tank where we found the infant’s body was in the loft. It had been boxed in. Did you do that, Mr Godfrey?’

‘I might have done. I can’t really remember. We did a lot of electrics up there, trailing wires and such but I can’t think we would have bothered to box in a hot water tank. I mean, you’re not going to have an airing cupboard all the way up there, are you? Accessible only by an extending loft ladder. And all cylinders these days are encased in foam so they’re pretty well insulated. Can’t you tell by the age of the wood that was used?’

‘Not conclusively,’ Alex said.

‘Well,’ Vince Godfrey said, draining his glass. ‘Pet and I don’t know anything about it. Can’t help you there, inspector.’ He spoke the words politely but firmly. As far as the Godfreys were concerned they had nothing to add.

‘Sorry you’ve had a bit of a wasted journey – all this way.’

‘Yes,’ Alex said, making no move to leave.

The couple exchanged a swift glance, more disturbed by Alex’s lack of movement than he would have expected.

‘Did you notice any smell up there ever?’

Mark Sullivan had pointed out that because the child’s body had desiccated rather than decayed there would in all probability have been no smell, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

Oddly enough the Godfreys didn’t seem to know how to answer the question. Simple enough, Alex thought. Yes or no.

Instead Vince asked something, ‘How long do you think the body had been there?’

Again Alex was deliberately vague. ‘It’s hard to say. Somewhere around the time that you bought the property. Which is eight or nine years ago. By the way which estate agents did you use?’

Again the Godfreys looked at each other. Gethin Roberts gave his boss a quick, puzzled look but Randall’s face was impassive. Petula frowned and nibbled her finger. Then her husband tapped the side of his head. He had seen the light. Remembered. ‘Victor Plumley,’ he said. ‘Quite a small estate agents in Grope Lane in the old part of town. Love that name.’ He leered. ‘Grope Lane. Conjures up all sorts of naughty images.’

His wife gave him a frosty look but then the coffee arrived with some tiny petit fours which Gethin Roberts eyed greedily. He was working up quite an appetite. It was all set out very nicely by Graciela but Petula Godfrey wasn’t pleased. ‘Took your bloody time, didn’t you?’

‘ Lo siento ,’ the girl whispered.

‘And speak in bloody English, will you?’

‘ Si .’

They waited while the coffee was poured and handed around by Graciela. Alex waited until she had left the room before continuing the questioning.

‘The lady you bought the house from,’ he enquired delicately.

Vince gave a hollow guffaw. ‘I can’t see her doing much,’ he said. ‘When we bought number 41 she went to live with her son and daughter-in-law.’

‘Where?’

‘Somewhere in Birmingham, I think. Goodness. She was well into her eighties. Half demented from what I saw of her. The son and daughter-in-law were always there when we viewed. They were the ones who dealt with us rather than her. The place was quite rundown. She hardly used the upstairs. I suppose…’ He thought for a minute. ‘There was a bit of a fusty smell around the place but I just put that down to an old lady living there.’

‘I see,’ Alex said aware that it was a very neat answer.

‘Mr Godfrey,’ he said, ‘I wonder if it would be possible to have a quick word with you – alone.’ He gave a swift