Remember Me Page 10

  Greene sits down and flips through a magazine about bicycle racing, all about the upcoming Tour de France. As far as Greene is concerned, bikes are something you use when you don’t have a car yet.

  The receptionist calls him. ‘Mr. Greene, the doctor will see you now’. Greene follows the receptionist to an office. The doctor seems to be at least sixty and is a rather short and spry man with an Albert Einstein mop of grey hair. Greene shakes the doctor’s hand, and presents his warrant card.

  ‘Please take a seat, what is this about? While I’m always happy to help the police, I do have to warn you I do not have much time’.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Greene says. ’You know Eric Warner? I believe he was a patient of yours?’

  ‘Warner, Warner, let me see.’ The doctor types quickly into his computer. ‘Yes, I can confirm Eric Warner is my patient; however, I have not seen him for over a year. What is this about?’

  ‘I’m sorry; I had assumed you knew Mr. Warner is dead? I did leave a message with your answerphone.’

  ‘No, I didn’t know that. Good heavens, what happened him? An accident of some sort? I only got back from holiday this morning. My receptionist has most likely listened to the messages.’

  ‘We don’t know yet. There’s going to be an inquest tomorrow.’

  ‘An inquest? Why an inquest? What happened to him?’

  ‘He was found in a forest near Faukon Abbey on the twelfth of May. We have since tried to find out what could have caused his untimely demise. The pathologist says Eric Warner died of –’ Greene consults his notes, ‘cardiopulmonary arrest, however he says it’s unclear what could have caused Mr. Warner to have one. We’re hoping you can shed some light on whether he had any health issues which could have caused him to have a heart attack.’

  ‘If you had contacted me earlier, I could have told you there was physically nothing wrong with him.’

  ‘So you are saying he was a healthy man? Can you tell me the specifics?’

  ‘Indeed, Warner was very healthy for his age. He didn’t even take any statins.’

  ‘Should he have? Aren’t those given to people with potential heart issues? That’s what my doc keeps telling me,’ Greene asks.

  ‘If you have risk factors – say, you smoke or are overweight or have a family history of heart disease –then yes. However, Eric Warner didn’t have any of those. And at any rate, he had a low regard for western medicine.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Per Mr. Warner, the Chinese and the Indians have survived for thousands of years using only herbal medicines which western practitioners deride because they don’t understand them. He was a believer in alternative medicine and treatments, and he scoffed at modern medicine except when it came to surgeries. Other than that, humans would be better to stay away from all those chemicals, according to Mr. Warner. He was very passionate about it. He laughed when I tried to warn him about unproven treatments and medications. Per Mr. Warner, there were more issues with modern medicines which poison our bodies with chemicals than with herbal remedies which have been used for thousands of years.’

  ‘So if he was so passionate about alternative medicine, why did he come to see you?’

  ‘His law firm requires him and all their other lawyers to come in for a check-up every three years.’

  ‘I see. So which was it when you saw him last? And when was that?’

  ‘I saw him on the twentieth of November in 2012 for his check-up. And you know I can’t tell you any details about it.’ Before Greene could say anything, the doctor continued: ‘I can tell you however that I saw at that time nothing which would indicate he would have a heart attack eighteen months later. If you require more details about his health, you’ll have to get a court order or get the coroner to contact me.’

  ‘He hasn’t been in any contact with you since then?’

  ‘Actually, now that you mention it… It was a bit odd. He called me out of the blue and asked me about a vasectomy, as in how long does it take to do, who can do it, how long does it take until it’s effective, etcetera. It was strange that he would call me, since I’m not a urologist. It seemed to me he just wanted general information, which he could have easily found on the internet.’

  ‘Do you remember how long ago this was? Did he schedule a visit with you to get it done?’

  ‘I think it was about five or six months ago. He didn’t schedule an appointment with me. And before you ask, I didn’t refer him to anybody else for it either, he didn’t ask. And now if you excuse me, I really need to attend to my patients.’

  Greene stands up. ‘One more question: do you know if Eric Warner had an alternative medicine practitioner he saw regularly?’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.’

  ‘So he took homeopathic pills and drank bad tasting teas? And if so, where did he get them?’

  ‘I am sorry but I do not know. He did mention that he had reliable sources, but that’s all. Who or what those were, I have no idea. And now I really have to ask you to leave.’

  ‘Thank you for your time.’ Greene shakes the doctor’s hand and walks out of his office.

  Greene takes a taxi back to Paddington and calls Robert Hughes. Hughes responds on the first ring.

  ‘DI Greene here. Just a quick question for you: did you know Eric Warner liked alternative medicines, herbal stuff and such?’

  ‘Ah yes, he did like that stuff,’ Hughes chuckles. ‘As far as Eric was concerned, our bodies were our temples and he wasn’t going to pollute his with all those chemicals western doctors prescribed with abandon.’

  ‘Do you know where he bought them? Did he have a medicine man?’

  ‘Sorry, I have no idea. He never said where he got those. I assume he went to see some Chinese herbalist or someone like that. But I do not know who or where.’

  ‘You didn’t share his beliefs?’

  ‘Not really. Each to his own. Anything else?’

  ‘No, thank you again for your help,’ Greene says and hangs up.

  He pays for the taxi and finds the next train to Exeter leaves in twenty minutes. He walks to the platform and gets onboard. He now has two and a half hours to write up his notes. Greene sends an email to Slater and asks if Eric Warner had had a vasectomy.

  DC Terry Ford

  Terry drives to Mulberry Hill again a little after noon and parks on the road outside the gates. Mrs. Pratt is supposed to work until 1pm so he wants to make sure he catches her when she leaves the house. When he sees Mrs. Pratt coming out of the gates, Terry gets out of the car and asks her to hop in. She protests, but he insists, and promises it’s not going to take long and that he’ll take her home afterwards.

  In the interview room, he asks if she wants some tea.

  ‘Yes please.’ she says.

  ‘Strong with a dash of milk and two sugars?’ he asks.

  ‘My, you do pay attention,’ she says.

  Ford goes out, brings two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits and sits down.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about, Mrs. Pratt. I just want to ask you a few more questions,’ Ford says. ‘You said you’ve only been with the Warners a few months? Where were you before that?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything? Pratt asks.

  ‘We just want to find out what happened to Mr. Warner. And a bit more about everybody who was connected to him.’

  ‘Well I wasn’t even here so I had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Please Mrs. Pratt; I’m not accusing you of anything. Just want to know a few things, that’s all. As soon as we’re done, I’ll drive you home. How’s the tea?’

  ‘Well, I used to work for old Mrs. Crane. But when she died, her son sold the house to the Warners real quick, couldn’t wait to get the money. I helped clean out the house, but that was it. Then he threw me out. Didn’t even get any severance, no nothing. Mrs. Crane had left me 100 in her will. 100 quid, I ask you? That’s all, for the ten years I worked for her, at her beck and call,
and all I get is 100 quid? Mind you, she was a real lady; she was a good one, chatted like a normal human, but just 100 quid for all those years?’ Pratt shakes her head. ‘The son did say that maybe I could get a job with the new owners. But when the Warners moved in about a month later they brought their own housekeeper and I was out of a job.’

  ‘What happened to her, the housekeeper, did she get the boot? Do you remember her name?’ Ford asks.

  ‘No, she left on her own, apparently she didn’t like to be out of London, sharing space with us country folks, so she left after three months. Ha!’ Pratt smiles gleefully.

  ‘So what happened then? How did you get the job?

  ‘I heard about their old housekeeper leaving in the Whistle and Tin, I work there some weekends. She – Vera or Meera or some name like that, the old housekeeper that is – stopped by to have a glass of “barrel-oaked white wine” -- was she snooty or what? -- before her bus left for Exeter, and she was so happy about it. Couldn’t wait to leave! So the following day I walked over to Mulberry Hill and asked if they needed help. Estelle hired me on the spot. They were ever so grateful, she said.’

  ‘Do they pay well?’

  ‘Of course, I upped my pay from before; nearly doubled it and she didn’t bat an eyelid! I should’ve asked for more!’

  ‘How is the work? Are they at home a lot? Do they throw parties?’

  ‘It’s ok, she’s not that finicky, but she changes her mind a lot. One day she wants these rugs here; next day they look better there. Not much for partying, they have had only a few guests since I started there.’

  ‘And what about him? Was he finicky too?’

  ‘No, he was ok, he says what he wants and wants it done just so.’

  ‘So they are all alone in that big house? What do they do all day long? Neither of them work, right?’

  ‘I’m only there in the mornings so I don’t know, he’s not much home then, or if he is, he usually sits in his office or goes to the kitchen or somewhere as soon as I get there.’

  ‘But she’s home?’

  ‘Oh yeah, usually her ladyship sits in the upstairs lounge with a big mug of coffee and reads her magazines. And as soon as I come upstairs with me hoover, she stashes them and runs downstairs to wait until I’m done. Then she comes to the kitchen and we chat a bit.’

  ‘Oh? What do you chat about?’

  ‘Nothing much, she talks about how she misses London, and how there’s nothing to do here, no shops and how she has to drive to Exeter to get anything.’

  ‘But didn’t they move here to start a family? None of that going on, is there?’

  ‘Can’t tell for sure, but I don’t think so. She’s as thin as the day I first saw her.’

  ‘Well if he goes out in the mornings I’d guess she must get lonely here. I would have thought they’d be all lovey-dovey since they’ve only been married four years or so. Do they quarrel?’

  ‘If they do, I haven’t heard it. They don’t talk much with each other, that much I can tell you.’

  ‘So when they talk, what do they say?’

  ‘The only things they say in front of me is him telling her he’ll be going to Exeter, her asking him to take her with him, and then he says he has meetings. She looks ever so unhappy when he does that. But she doesn’t say anything to me about it, and one doesn’t want to pry, does one?’

  ‘So you don’t think they were very happy?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know, I’m only there few hours a day and even then only three days a week.’

  ‘So how come you got to take a holiday? Was that before or after Mrs. Warner decided to leave to visit her mother?’

  ‘I asked.’

  ‘No objections?’

  ‘Well, she didn’t want me to leave him alone, claimed he couldn’t manage.’

  ‘Do you know why she went to the Scillies?’

  ‘Oh, was that where she went?’

  ‘So do you know why she took off?’

  ‘Well I may have heard something.’

  ‘Oh? What did you hear?’ Terry leans his chin on his hand and places his elbow on the table leaning towards Pratt, smiling encouragingly.

  ‘It’s a big house, but even so one cannot escape hearing if people are shouting,’ Pratt says.

  ‘Warners were having a row?’

  ‘Well it was somethin’… she wants babies, see, a real family she says. He’s not so keen, says he’s already tried that. And then she wails about how she hates it here and why did he want to move here if he didn’t want a family after all?’

  ‘Goodness me, so what happened next?

  ‘She storms upstairs and sobs and shouts she’s going to see her mother because she couldn’t stay in the house any longer. She ran to the bedroom and slammed the door.’

  ‘What did he do? Run after her?’

  ‘He first stood there for a while, didn’t do a thing. Then he went upstairs too. Didn’t hear what they did after that.’

  ‘How long was this before she left?’

  ‘Less than a week.’

  ‘So you think they made up or was she still mad when she left?’

  ‘Dunno, when I came back again two days later, Estelle told me she was going to go away for a while and could I do some deep cleaning work while she was gone.’

  ‘So how did you get to take time off?’

  ‘When I got there on Friday, she was about to leave on Saturday and they were both in the kitchen when I came in. I hang up my coat as usual and she starts on about what I need to do while she’s gone. My daughter had called me day before, we had talked, and I’d mentioned I’d like to see her. So I figured I could ask if I could take some days off. When she started going on about how I should clean all the curtains and pillows and such, he literally winced and wondered if all that was really necessary since most of the furnishings in the house were less than six months old.’

  ‘So I saw my chance there, and I beg your pardon for my interruption and explain about my daughter and how I haven’t seen her for a long time, her being in London. And how the following week could be the best time as she’d then go for exams and all that and I wouldn’t see her for next two months at least. So I says all that and hope for the best. He jumps up and says but of course, Pratt, of course you should take the week off! I can manage just fine on my own. She looks at me, and asks if there really isn’t any other time to see my daughter, as she really would like to get things done while she’s gone. And when I then says, it’s the only time, and she says to him, ok if you really are sure you can manage on your own, he just nods, she sighs really sad like, like she had lost everything and she says to me, take all the time you need. And that was that.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Nothing, they both left the kitchen and I started cleaning as usual. Called my daughter as soon as I got a chance and left her a message.’

  ‘More tea?’ Terry asks.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do.’

  Terry goes out and gets more tea and another plate of biscuits.

  ‘Who takes care of the garden? They must have someone coming in? I can’t think Mrs. Warner is one for weeding and such?’

  ‘Oh her ladyship wouldn’t get her fingers dirty, it’s beneath her that kind of thing. She can barely cut a flower! Old Billy Carruthers comes a couple of times a week and cuts the grass and weeds.’

  ‘Sounds like you don’t much like Mrs. Warner.’

  ‘Oh she’s nice enough. But for someone who used to be a typist, she sure puts on a lot of airs.’

  ‘How do you know what she used to be?’

  ‘Ah, the old one told me about it. I gave ‘er a few glasses of her barrel-oaked and she told me all about ‘er. She’d been with them for a few years when they lived in London. She liked him, but guess she and the missus didn’t get on too well. She’s a finicky one to get along with, as I said.’

  ‘You don’t remember the old housekeeper’s name do you?’

  ‘No, I think it was Vera, or Meera or
something like that.’

  ‘You don’t remember anything about her, this Meera or Vera?’

  ‘Nah, I don’t.’

  ‘So what did you do in London?’ asks Terry. ‘Did you go so see all those shows and all that?’

  ‘What, me going to see a show? Have you any idea how much they cost? Mind you, I would like to, but even the last minute tickets cost so much.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘Cleaned, scrubbed and polished my daughter’s flat. It’s not much bigger than a closet and she’s a really good girl, but with ‘er schedules at school, she ‘as no time to do a proper clean ‘erself. So I did that, and then she and I went to listen to one of those outdoor concerts, and checked out Marks & Spencer too. They had such nice sheets for sale.’

  ‘So did you go anywhere else?’

  ‘We had planned to go to the Kew Gardens too, but it started to rain when we got there so we didn’t go after all. Went home and I cooked a few proper meals for my daughter. She has a freezer, a small one, but it’s there. I filled it and that way she can have a home cooked meal when she wants to.’

  ‘When did you get home?

  ‘You know when I did, you have my tickets!’

  ‘Well sometimes people take a different train than their ticket shows.’

  ‘Well I didn’t’, says Pratt indignantly. ‘I got home on Saturday, like I said. Can I go now?’

  ‘You sure you came home on Saturday?’

  ‘Yes I did.’

  ‘I would like you to think again, as you previously said you came home on Sunday. So which is it?’

  Pratt blushes. ‘It was Saturday. I wanted to have a day by myself. I just got nervous about it when you were asking about it before.’

  ‘Since you are now saying that you didn’t come back when you had previously said, did you tell the truth about when you left Faukon Abbey?’

  ‘Yes, I did leave on Sunday, like I said.’

  ‘So you were not here on the twelfth of May. You are absolutely sure about that?