Remember Me Page 7

  ‘No, ma’am, of course not. We are only interested in finding out what may have killed him.’

  ‘Well it wasn’t anything in his study, was it? He was found dead in the woods, wasn’t he? But go ahead! I have to leave now, I assume I can’t stop you and have to trust you, so just close the door when you leave.’

  ‘Thank you Mrs. Warner, we’ll make sure we do just that.’

  Estelle dabs her eyes once more, picks up her handbag, a big red leather thing with a large silver buckle, and goes out. The detectives watch her walking to her car and see her driving her little red Audi onto the street.

  ‘Right, let’s get to work then. Let’s try to find out who this guy really was.’

  The detectives walk across the hall. They peek behind a door on the opposite side. It seems to be just another small living room, decorated in blue tones. They continue to the next door, which is the study. Compared with the other two rooms they have seen, the study’s furnishings are very different, very modern. The walls are painted dark blue-grey, and yet the room doesn’t feel gloomy or dark thanks to the light pouring in from large French windows with a view of the rear garden. The window is framed by long grey curtains on each side.

  In the middle of the room facing the door, a large pale wooden desk on chrome legs and with an odd-looking chair behind it. Two modern leather wing chairs in front of the desk. There’s nothing on the desk besides an old-fashioned green desk lamp, a telephone, and a laptop computer with separate monitor and keyboard. On the wall by the door what looks like floating shelves made of glass. On them some books and a few old toy cars and model train engines. A couple of large modern paintings adorn the other walls. In front of the fireplace in the corner of the back wall sit what looks like two giant white golf balls with a small glass table in between. In front of the window there’s a big globe with a lid open, showing a couple of bottles of scotch and a few glasses. The light wood floor is covered with a large grey rug with a few red dots.

  ‘Wow, this is very different, very modern,’ Ford says, ‘it’s rather, I don’t know… cold, it doesn’t look like anybody lives here.’

  He walks over to the glass shelving. Greene walks behind the desk, and tries opening the drawers. Only the top one opens, it contains only a few pens, a note block and some empty envelopes. Greene turns on the laptop, but it requires a password.

  ‘It would have been good to see what Eric Warner kept in his laptop. But it has a password. We’ll have to get a court order if we need to get in it. Very careful man, Mr. Warner. Code locks on his drawers, at his home office? Who does that? And why?’

  ‘I have a password on my laptop at home,’ Ford says.

  ‘Really, why? I thought you lived alone? Or do you have deep dark secrets?’

  ‘No secrets, sir and I do live alone. But just in case some burglar gets in, having a password at least it makes it more difficult for him to fence it.’

  Greene sits absentmindedly in the desk chair and leans back. The chair rolls backwards and he is suddenly nearly horizontal. ‘Bloody hell’ he cries out. He pushes downward with his legs and leans forward again, the chair rolling upward, and he nearly falls flat on his face on the desk. He jumps out of the chair. ‘What the heck, what kind of a chair is this?’ The chair looks like a very strange kind of rocking chair – the wooden arms continue both up the back and down to make the two runners where strangely curved pads meet the runners near the floor.

  Greene pushes the chairs back with his hand to see how it works. It seems the chair has positions for totally upright, totally horizontal, and a few positions in between, all apparently depending on how the sitter balances. Greene sits gingerly on it again and carefully rocks it backward and forward a few times. The pads on the side are apparently meant as legs, sort of like built-in ottoman.

  ‘You know, this is actually a very comfortable chair.’

  ‘So is this one,’ Ford says. Greene hears his voice but can’t see him.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Here,’ Ford says and turns the golf ball chair to face Greene. The giant ‘golf ball’ is actually made of white plastic on the outside and padded with red fabric in the inside. It even has a built-in lamp.

  ‘Ok, enough of admiring the furnishings. Did you find anything?’ Greene asks. They both get up.

  ‘No, sir. Only a few legal books, a few classics, and a few novels. Most of them look like they’ve never been opened.’

  ‘So only decorations. Nothing here. Let’s quickly check if we can find his medicine cabinet,’ Greene says. ’Is she back yet?’

  ‘No, no car yet,’ Ford says.

  The detectives walk upstairs. Turning left at the top, they find two bedrooms with a shared bathroom. Both bedrooms have classic wooden four-poster beds with bright flowery bedspreads. The officers close the doors and turn back towards a corner lounge with a large beige leather sofa and two chairs facing a flat screen TV. Next to the lounge, they find the largest bedroom with windows facing the rear garden. It is clearly the master bedroom and has its own big bathroom. The bedroom is decorated in different shades of brown. Curtains framing the windows are brown with vertical beige stripes. Above the bed hangs a huge sepia-shade photograph of a nude backside of a woman – Estelle? –showing off her curves and her long curly hair, lying on a sheepskin. Apart from the photograph, there are no other decorations, and no clutter.

  The larger walk-in closet is filled with Estelle’s clothes.

  ‘The lady has shoes, wow, a small shoe shop’s worth in here for sure!’ Ford says. Greene walks to a smaller walk-in closet, which contains a large number of well-tailored suits, shirts, ties and shoes. Quite a few of his shoes seem be made by Ecco. All the clothes and shoes are in excellent condition.

  ‘So why the scruffy clothing he was found in? Doesn’t make any sense,’ Greene mutters.

  He wanders to the king size bed and checks out the built-in bedside table. There are drawers on both sides. On what appears to be her side, the drawer contains a selection of hand creams and eye masks. On his side: a flashlight, a pen and a notepad, nothing else.

  Ford goes to the bathroom and checks the cabinets there. ‘Anything?’ asks Greene when he walks to the bathroom.

  ‘No, sir, just a lot of cosmetics on her side and shaving gear and toothpaste on his. No medicines anywhere. Not even vitamins.’

  ‘Ok, let’s get out of here. Nothing here. We may need to come here again, but with a proper warrant.’

  The detectives walk back downstairs and make sure the door locks behind them. They walk back to Ford’s car and Ford starts to drive back to the office.

  ‘He had all those fancy looking clothes, why was he found wearing something that looked like cast-outs?’ Greene asks.

  ‘Those could have been the clothes he wore at home,’ Ford responds.

  ‘Very odd house, that one. There was really nothing personal anywhere, no books at the bedside, no clutter, not even a shampoo bottle in the shower.’

  ‘Maybe that’s how the rich live? They have a housekeeper who keeps everything tidy.’

  ‘True but to me that house didn’t feel like a home at all. It was more like a hotel. And did you notice something else that wasn’t there?’

  ‘Not sure what you mean, sir?’

  ‘They had three bedrooms, but there was no nursery.’

  ‘Odd for sure, considering how Estelle keeps constantly telling us how they moved here to start a family,’ Ford says.

  ‘And what happened to his mobile, because I’m sure he had one. Should have asked Mrs. Warner if she’d seen it. You can call her tomorrow morning and ask about it. Once you have found out where it is, or isn’t, pull the phone records for both him and her, and for their home phone too.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘Also, let’s talk to the maid – Trapp or Tramp or whatever her name was – to find out a bit more about their marriage. The help always knows everything. Since she’s supposed to work on Friday mornings, you can drive o
ver here to talk with her. Better to talk to her over at the house rather than bring her into the station. Make sure you talk to her alone, we don’t want Mrs. Warner giving her views. Oh and don’t forget to ask both Trapp and Mrs. Warner for their own mobile phone numbers.’

  ‘Yes sir. I think the housekeepers name is Pratt.’

  Ford drives them back to the office.

  Jimmy Carter, The Abbey Chronicle

  First thing in the morning, Jimmy starts typing up his notes from the meeting with Robert Hughes. As his visit to London was much more informative than he had expected, Jimmy continues to do more research on Warner and his wives based on what he heard from Hughes, Jennie and Gibbens. He also makes a note to himself to find out more about the first wife, Maggie, and more about her B&B in Penzance. He wants to contact the daughter, Lizzie, as well. And what exactly happened to the other daughter?

  Mike swings by and sits on the corner of Jimmy’s desk. Jimmy tells him what he has found out so far. They agree Jimmy should keep researching, see if he can contact the first wife on Tuesday before the inquest and then write a longer article after the inquest.

  ‘Now why would Warner have a flat in Exeter when he also recently bought a house less than forty-five miles from there?’ Mike wonders. ‘Did Hughes say anything about it?’

  ‘He said that they used to go there to “get away from wives and relax.”’

  ‘Considering Warner’s only been married four years, isn’t it a bit early to do that?’ Mike asks. ‘Didn’t he say anything more about it?’

  ‘I didn’t ask. The whole thing about the flat came out more by accident, he was sort of reminiscing and I don’t think he really wanted to say what he said. I didn’t want to draw his attention to it. I thought I might try to find where the flat is and check it out by myself.’

  ‘Ok, get on with it then. I do think it is a bit odd, don’t you? Didn’t you say the current missus is a lot younger than Warner and a bit of a looker?’

  ‘Indeed she is, she’s a gorgeous brunette with eyes the size of dinner plates, and a great figure, so why he’d want to get away from her I do not understand.’

  ‘Exactly, there’s something going on there. So keep digging. Maybe he was having an affair or keeping a second household. That has been known to happen, too.’

  Friday 23rd of May

  DI Peter Greene and DC Terry Ford

  Terry Ford arrives to Elm House on Mulberry Hill just after eleven in the morning. The sun is once again shining, the roses just about to burst into full bloom. Terry parks his car, and this time manages to use the doorknocker. The door is opened by a middle-aged, frumpy looking woman with short curled brownish hair, wearing a pair of black slacks and a black long sleeved t-shirt. She has deep set, watery eyes behind a pair of green-rimmed glasses.

  ’Yes?’ she says. Ford displays his warrant card.

  ‘I’m Detective Ford from Devonshire Constabulary in Faukon Abbey. Are you Pratt?’

  ‘Yes, I am Mrs. Pratt, what’s it to you?’

  ‘I’d like to talk with you’, Ford says.

  Mrs. Pratt leans her hand on the doorframe and looks at Ford. She does not move.

  ‘Could I come in please, I have a few questions I need to ask you about Mr. Eric Warner, who as you may know, is dead.’

  ‘Yes I heard about that. Poor missus been crying her eyes out. I’m in the middle of cleaning here, and I know nothing, so why do you want to talk to me?’ She has not moved.

  ‘Who is it, Pratt?’ Estelle calls out.

  ‘Some policeman here, wants to ask questions, ma’am’

  Estelle comes halfway down the stairs and sees Ford standing at the door.

  ‘Oh God, it’s you again! Now what? Haven’t you pestered me enough already? When do I get my husband’s body?’

  ‘Very sorry ma’am, I don’t want to bother you. I’d like to talk to Pratt here.’

  ‘What an earth for? Oh well I guess you must and won’t give up until you do. Take him to the kitchen, Pratt.’ Estelle turns and walks back upstairs.

  ‘This way’, says Pratt gruffly, turning on her heels. Terry closes the door after him and follows her under the stairs to a small door, which opens onto the kitchen.

  ‘I was just about to have a cuppa; guess you’ll be wanting one too?’

  ‘Yes please, that would lovely, thank you.’

  Ford looks around the kitchen. It’s not very big, but very well-appointed, with an Aga as well as a big gas stove next to it. A large brown granite-covered island stands in the middle. From the window there is a view of the fields at the side of the house. Light-green cabinets under the granite countertops and white cupboards on the walls make the room feel very airy. Pratt gets two mugs and a teapot and tells Ford to take a seat by the island where there are four barstools.

  ‘No sugar, and just a drop of milk,’ he says. ‘Thank you.’ She pours herself a cup and adds two spoonsful of sugar and a good splash of milk.

  ‘So why do you want to talk to me for? I don’t know anything – wasn’t he found in the woods?’

  ‘Could we start with your full name, please?’ Ford sets down his notepad and a pen.

  ‘My name is Elsie Pratt, Mrs. Elsie Pratt.’ Ford writes the name down. He also asks for her home address and phone number. She states both, grudgingly.

  ‘Thank you Mrs. Pratt. Yes, Mr. Warner was found in Tersel Woods. And we’d like to know what happened to him.’

  ‘But I know nothing,’ she says again.

  ‘But you were here, were you not, when Mrs. Warner left for the Scillies?’

  ‘Yes, she was to leave on Saturday, I was here on Friday as usual. The following week, I had a week off. Mrs. Warner didn’t want to give me time off, but Mr. Warner said it was ok. He would manage just fine without me for a week.’

  ‘Were you just staying at home or did you go somewhere?’

  ‘I went to London to see my daughter; she’s there getting a nursing degree.’

  ‘Can anybody confirm that?’

  ‘I stayed with my daughter all week.’

  ‘When did you leave to go there?’

  ‘I left on Sunday afternoon, took the train. I came back on the following Sunday, the eighteenth.’

  ‘Did you work on Monday the nineteenth? Did you see Mrs. Warner when she got home?’

  ‘No, I came to work as usual that morning and left at noon. Nobody here. I had to go to the dentist.’

  ‘How did you find out about the death of Mr. Warner?’

  ‘From Mrs. Warner when I got here on Wednesday morning. She was all shattered to pieces, poor thing, crying her eyes out. She said your lot didn’t tell her for a week that he was dead!’ Pratt says.

  ‘So you didn’t see his picture in The Abbey Chronicle on Saturday?’

  ‘That rag, I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole! Besides, I was in London, wasn’t I? So what does that rag got to do with anything?’

  ‘Since we didn’t know who he was – his picture was posted in The Abbey Chronicle. He didn’t have any identification on him when he was found. Nor a mobile phone. By the way, do you have the mobile phone numbers for both Mr. and Mrs. Warner? I wouldn’t want to bother Mrs. Warner again and we’d like to locate Mr. Warner’s phone.’

  ‘Oh, you mean someone stole it and left him dying? But that’s awful, those things happen in London! They don’t happen ‘ere.’ Pratt digs in her handbag, finds her own phone and gives the phone numbers to Terry.

  ‘Thank you, and your daughter’s?’

  ‘So you’re going to call her and ask her? I was there!’ Pratt digs a bit more in her handbag, and finds two ticket stubs showing her train trips.

  ‘See, here’s proof for you! Like I said, I went to London and came back when I said. See?’ Pratt waves the ticket stubs in front of Ford’s face.

  ‘Can I have a look, please?’ Pratt gives Ford the tickets.

  ‘Can I hang on to these?’

  ‘Sure, I’ve no use for them. But leave my daug
hter alone, she has ‘er final exams coming up and don’t need any disturbance.’

  Terry asks a few more questions about Pratt’s family and work hours and gets grudging answers.

  ‘Thank you for the tea. I’ll be off now.’ He drives back to the office.

  In the meantime, Greene calls Robert Hughes, solicitor at Boxton, Gillen & Smithers. Robert Hughes says he was very shocked to find out about Eric’s death. Estelle had called the firm’s clerk and had let them know about it. She had not mentioned what Eric had died of, nor why the police were involved.

  ‘That is what we’re trying to find out,’ Greene says. He tells Hughes how Eric had been found, and how they do not yet know what he died of.

  ‘But Eric was in best of health, nothing wrong with him. He couldn’t have just dropped dead!’

  ‘Speaking of Mr. Warner’s health, Mrs. Warner mentioned you’d know who was his doctor over here, as he didn’t have one in Faukon Abbey yet.’

  ‘Estelle didn’t know? Really? Well, Eric used to go to see Aron Holmes; he’s on Harley Street. Hang on a minute, I’ll get you his phone number. I assume you want to talk with him?’

  ‘Indeed we would. Thank you.’

  Hughes says he hasn’t talked with Estelle as of yet, but the office had sent flowers. He asks if Greene knows when and where the funeral is going to take place. Peter says he doesn’t know, but Mr. Warner’s body had been released. Since it is Friday and getting late, Robert is in a hurry to get on. Greene agrees to meet with him in person on Tuesday as it is a bank holiday weekend.

  When Greene calls Dr. Holmes, the answerphone states the doctor is on holiday and will be back the following week.