was simply encouraging you.’
Randall was quiet for a moment then he spoke softly. ‘You’re wasted being a coroner,’ he murmured. ‘You should have joined the force. You’d be a commander by now.’
She laughed out loud then. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘It’s not the way I would liked to have gone. I enjoyed studying medicine and I wouldn’t want to be anything but a coroner. But, oh dear, Alex,’ she said with feeling. ‘What a tragedy. That poor woman.’
‘Exactly. Is it OK if we move it to the mortuary?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Move it.’ She hesitated. ‘No note, you say?’
‘No.’
‘Shame. It might have provided us with some answers.’
‘Yes. And saved some time.’
‘So who or what or when is in the frame now?’
He chuckled. ‘Are you sure you’re awake enough for this?’
‘I am now.’
‘Well, in the time frame we’re talking about, i.e. the last five to eight or so years there are the three families involved. The Sedgewicks who are probably out of the picture unless they brought the baby’s body with them when they moved house, which is unlikely. But if the baby had been kept in a warm, dry environment and the body was moved straight from one to the other, even possibly refrigerated during the move, it is possible. The most suspicious thing about them is Alice Sedgewick’s odd behaviour. And now, of course, there is her suicide which points to an unsound mind.’ He paused. ‘I might suspect a guilty conscience if she hadn’t thought the child was a girl. She didn’t seem duplicit enough to use that to throw us off the scent.’
‘Go on.’
‘Then there are the Godfreys.’
‘You haven’t said much about them.’
‘No, because apart from them being pretty objectionable people I can’t really see where they could possibly fit into the greater picture. She says she’s never been pregnant. They haven’t got any children and don’t appear to want any. She doesn’t even like children.’
‘And you think the person who did this to the newborn
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
‘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 Citroen 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?’
