she had a little more than was wise. It made her rather emotional. Shall we leave it at that?’ With an effort he lifted his eyes up to meet Alex’s. Martha knew that this admission had cost Sedgewick something.
Randall thought for a minute then nodded his head slowly. ‘Without a note I have no option but to agree.’ He met Sedgewick’s eyes. ‘Had there been a note it might have provided some explanation of her actions last week. I suppose it’s possible that your wife did not mean to kill herself. In which case we can discuss the circumstances with the coroner and possibly have an accidental death verdict. We may even be asked to look into the impact of our investigation, together with the effect the newspaper story would have had on her already fragile mental state.’
Martha smiled. Randall was well used to her advising him on his job. This was the first time he had directed her. She concentrated on listening to the interview.
‘Do you know whether your wife knew about the discovery of the bones at Bayston Hill?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sedgewick said, ‘but I would have thought it highly probable. It was even on the TV.’ Then as suddenly as a flash of lightning Sedgewick found his temper again. ‘Why didn’t you just leave things alone, inspector? Why did you have to go digging up the past, searching for something you were never going to find, digging up the patio of our old house, making us look so guilty when you must have known we can’t have had anything to do with the death of that thing?’
Alex leaned forward, his face steely. ‘We have to investigate the death of the child, Mr Sedgewick.’
‘But it had nothing to do with us. My wife simply came across the body.’
‘Right.’ Alex Randall shuffled some papers. ‘Well, I’ll share with you some of the anomalies which have bothered us and made us suspicious of you. Can you explain the presence, in your house, of a room specifically decorated for a child when you have no children, no grandchildren and, according to Mrs Sedgewick’s previous statement, no children stay with you? Why have a room for a child that doesn’t exist?’
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
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
‘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
