Frozen Charlotte

‘Put it like this. It was never going to be anything to do with the Isaac family, was it? Apart from one tenuous connection. They already had their own children and didn’t live in The Mount anyway. They were on the edge of this but never part of it. I have a feeling that if you really delve into them money will be at their hearts. They strike me as avaricious people. You will find them guilty of some crime. They took their wealthy mother to live with them. No.’ She held up her hand. ‘I don’t think they would murder. It isn’t their style. It’ll be something maybe to do with duties or property. There will be some irregularity which your WPC picked up on, clever girl. Besides, look at it from another angle. An undertaker would never leave a body in an attic. Particularly such a tiny body. He would have ample opportunity for concealing a child in, say, a coffin due for cremation. It can’t be them and it isn’t them. The baby is not Poppy. Neither is it anything to do with the Isaacs.’

‘I agree.’

‘And now we know all about Alice and why she behaved as she did. Her mind was not robust after she was forced into having a termination when she had already built a bond with the child. It must have been terrible for her.’

Alex Randall looked at her intently. ‘What exactly are you saying, Martha?’

‘It’s a class thing,’ she said cryptically. ‘Now who was it who said that? It struck me as an interesting comment at the time. Now I see they couldn’t have been more right. It is a class thing.’

Alex was getting irritated. ‘You’re being just a mite too mysterious, Martha. I’m simply not with you.’

‘We took that comment the wrong way, didn’t we?’

DI Randall continued to be mystified.

‘It’s a little like when you look down the wrong end of a telescope. Instead of things appearing larger, they appear smaller. That’s what’s happened here. We were looking at the discovery of an infant’s body from the wrong end. Our little baby was not an unwanted infant. He was a very much wanted infant. But he wasn’t perfect so he died, probably very soon after birth. There was ignorance here, yes. But it came about through callous and cynical exploitation. Put it all together, Alex,’ she urged, ‘and you will have arrived at the truth. And by the way,’ she added, ‘when Mark Sullivan rang me with the findings of the post-mortem on Alice Sedgewick I did ask him if he would look up something else on the hospital computer.’

‘Anything I should know about?’

‘I think so.’

Baldly she related dates, times, details.

Alex took it all in without comment. Then he cleared his throat. ‘You mentioned I should have a holiday,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I should go to Spain – again?’

‘Sounds like a good idea to me,’ Martha said.

He grinned at her, looking like a hopeful monkey. ‘I don’t suppose we could stretch the rules and you join me?’

‘Not this time,’ Martha said. ‘But perhaps before you go to Spain you might want to send someone round to pay a visit on… Now what was her name?’

Alex smiled.

As Alex had expected Petula Godfrey was not in the least bit pleased to hear that he had a few more questions to ask her.

‘What sort of questions? I’ve answered enough already,’ she grumbled.

‘I prefer to meet up with you face-to-face,’ he said calmly.

‘Look mate,’ she said tightly and now he could hear, almost taste, the panic in her voice, ‘this dead baby thing, it ain’t nothin’ to do with us. I haven’t got any kids. I have nothin’ to do with them. I hate the bloody things. I don’t like kids.’

‘We’ve been assuming, Mrs Godfrey, that the person who hid the baby’s body, also “didn’t like kids”.’ Alex remarked drily.

She came back quickly then. ‘When I say I don’t like ’em I don’t mean I’d bloody kill ’em. I know what’s legal, you know.’

‘Do you?’

There was silence from the other end of the phone. It was left to Alex Randall to wind up the conversation. ‘Well, thank you, Mrs Godfrey,’ he said. ‘We’ll be over some time tomorrow morning. Would you like to attend at Malaga police station or shall we come up to the house?’

‘The house,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not going to some ruddy Spanish cop shop.’

‘Till tomorrow then,’ Alex said politely.

When he got back to the station he spoke to WPC Delia Shaw. ‘I have a job for you,’ he said. She listened carefully, her eyes intelligent and understanding. ‘Yes, sir. And then…’

This time DI Randall did not take Gethin Roberts with him but Sergeant Paul Talith. He needed his thoughtful intelligence rather than Roberts’ obvious distraction with the flight delays, the poor accommodation and late food. Besides PC Gethin Roberts had an important job to do.

On the way over Talith was curious. ‘So why are you going over again, sir?’

‘Well,’ Randall said, stretching out his legs as far as he could. ‘We’ve excluded the Isaacs and Mrs Sedgewick is now dead which leaves Mr and Mrs Godfrey. They fit the time zone best anyway so we’ll focus our investigation with them.’

Talith thought for a moment then said, ‘I just don’t see how they can possibly fit in,’ he said. ‘They don’t fit the profile at all.’

‘And what is the profile?’

‘I don’t know.’ Talith frowned. ‘Some ignorant young girl, I suppose. I mean from what you said Petula Godfrey’s streetwise. She’s the sort who’d have an abortion in her lunch break and get back to work in the afternoon without giving a backward glance. That’s the sort of woman she is, sir.’

Alex said nothing but remained silent and thoughtful.

The phone call couldn’t have been better timed. Delia Shaw rang just as Alex switched his phone on at the luggage carousel at Malaga airport. Randall listened then gave out some more instructions.

Chez Godfrey looked just as opulent this time around as it had a fortnight ago but this time Alex Randall thought it looked a bit tacky. Talith was well impressed though. He whistled through his teeth as they approached the tall gates. ‘Must be worth a packet,’ he observed, ‘especially over here.’

Petula was distinctly on edge to see them for the second time. Wearing skintight jeans, spiky heels and a pink sweater she met them at the foot of the stairs and gave Alex a hard, hostile stare. ‘I don’t know why you’ve come back,’ she said. ‘You’re wastin’ your bloody time. I would have thought you would have realized you’ll get no help from us. We don’t know nothin’ about no dead baby.’

‘I think you do,’ Alex said steadily, ‘and that’s why we’ve come back.’

Petula Godfrey wobbled on the steps and clutched at the handrail but she had lost none of her fighting spirit. ‘You better watch what you’re sayin’,’ she said. ‘My husband has an evil ’abit of takin’ people to court if he thinks they’re spreadin’ rumours.’

‘It’s only rumours if it isn’t the truth,’ Alex said mildly. ‘You may not like it, but the truth is the truth, isn’t it?’

Vince Godfrey was standing in the doorway, his face thunderous. He must have been a very scary guy in the school playground, Talith thought, as they reached him.

‘What’s goin’ on here,’ Godfrey said, bunching up his fists, ready for a sparring match. ‘Why have you come troublin’ us innocent people?’

‘I simply want some answers,’ Alex said, deliberately low key.

‘What kind of answers? How can we answer stuff we don’t know nothin’ about? It’s so obvious, plod,’

Godfrey continued. ‘This ain’t somethin’ we know anythin’ about.’ He gave a heavy, theatrical sigh.

‘Just answer my questions.’

‘Well keep it clean then. Don’t go makin’ wild accusations unless you can prove them.’ Vince couldn’t resist tacking on a threat: ‘Or you’ll regret it.’

This time Randall and Talith were shown into a more formal sitting room, carpeted and plush with two large red sofas facing each other.