All Passion Spent by Bergotte (read with me .TXT) 📖

But what is the extent of that debt?” “I’m not telling you,” replied Paul, petulantly.

“You don’t need to. I said there were two messages. The second reads as follows, Your help might persuade Jeremy Thomas to help also. I managed to trace Mr Thomas and spoke to him on the phone earlier today. He told me that you had lost money on the stock market, to the tune of nearly a hundred thousand pounds. You’ve borrowed money on which you are paying interest. You are also being blackmailed.” “No, I’ve got out of that one,” said Paul, defiantly. “That still leaves the hundred thousand. If you can recoup your losses, even partially, you might invest the money more successfully, and eventually get back on an even keel. But you need an injection of cash in the short term, which the death of Laura Fellingham would help you to secure.”

“I would never contemplate murder,” said Paul, “whatever my personal circumstances.” “You have to account for your movements on the evening of the murder, 21st October. In your earlier statement you said that you came home early from London in the afternoon. What time was that?” “The train from London got in at 4.50 p.m.” answered Paul. “I walked home slowly. I got there at about a quarter to six. It’s not that far and I felt I needed the exercise. I did not go into the house though. I did not want to alert Bella. I wanted to check up on her and Michael. So, when I arrived home I immediately went to my car, which I keep in a garage nearby and drove up the road. I drew in, parked up and listened to the radio for an hour or so. At about a quarter past seven I started for the city centre. I drew cash from ATM at 7.30 in Bath bottom of Widcombe Hill where there’s a shopping parade.”

“You have the receipt?” asked Anna. “Yes,” said Paul. “I keep all my receipts.” “Could we see it please?” “It’s upstairs. I’ll have to fetch it.” He left the room. Anna looked at her chief. “What do you think?” she asked. “It all seems genuine enough.” Paul came down again and handed Gerrard the receipt. “There you are,” he said, “it’s got the date and time as I said.” “Thank you,” replied Gerrard, “That would seem to put you in the clear.” “It doesn’t seem to… it does put me in the clear, doesn’t it?” “For the time being, sir, yes,” said Gerrard, “unless further evidence comes to light.” “What further evidence could incriminate me?” “I won’t speculate other than to say you might have been working in collusion with someone else.” “That’s ridiculous.” “We will leave it there for the present. Thank you for your co-operation.”
Paul Fellingham breathed a sigh of relief when the police officers finally departed. He returned to his seat and sat brooding on the problems thrown up by his interview. If only he could cancel the debts.

He thought of his return to London on Sunday when his suspicions had been confirmed. He knew for certain that Isabella had sought consolation with his brother. He saw the look of disappointment in the eyes of Isabella as he said goodbye. His failure to come home on Monday when he knew that Mrs Fellingham was dead was a mistake. He should have made an effort to stay in Bath. His finding solace in the arms of another woman, Katerina whom he hardly knew was in some ways his biggest mistake. There was no sense in which she was a business colleague. She was no more than a cheap tart who worked in the typing pool. She earned a fraction of the salary that Paul could command. He picked her out for a bit of fun at an office party the previous Christmas. She hardly knew who he was. He did not know her at all. They drank together that night and danced together and later she was quite happy that they slept together. There was no relationship other than a purely sexual one. She had her needs and he had his. She lived for dancing and showing off her body. He had become intoxicated with her and the lifestyle she led.

Each time he saw her, which was not very often, she would make some excuse for them to meet. In March she had met him in the lift and got out on the floor that he got out. There was no one else about and she caught hold of his hand, demanding to see him at lunchtime. He could not refuse. They met for lunch when she persuaded him to go to the roof garden with him. She kissed him with a passion that surprised him, but made no further demands. Later in the year, in May, she invited him to a party. She told him while they were dancing together that she was leaving the typing pool. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “I’ve got a job as a pole dancer in a club not far from here. I start tomorrow. Come and see me.” He went the next night and stayed for a couple of hours, but Katerina was on a stage right in front of him, but miles away from him. He had no chance to talk to her. That is how it continued over the next few months. Paul was not able to contact the girl. He knew nothing about her, where she had come from, or where she lived. He had no phone number and the club management made sure he made no advances towards her.

Paul cast his mind back over the last few days. He thought of the Monday night when once again he was in London for the sole purpose of seeing the girl whom he would later know as Katerina. She had become quite professional now. Her moves were extraordinary on the pole. She was dressed in a very short skirt. It was no more than a pelmet. She wore the skimpiest of tops. When she moved she held on to the pole with one hand and went round and round it extending her other hand to the seated audience. The highlight of her routine was her graceful climb up the pole, a quick turn upside down and a slow descent until her shoulder rested on the stage, her long limbs extending up the pole. She then left the stage, only to reappear a few minutes later and repeat the performance.

On the Tuesday, the day after his mother-in-law was found dead, Paul saw Katerina at an underground station, waiting for the tube. He approached her and saw a different person. No longer was she the girl from the typing pool but a sophisticated looking youngster in control of her life. She was beautifully dressed and spoke with a slight foreign accent that Paul could not readily identify. He wanted to ask her out somewhere but while he was thinking what to say she asked him to dinner. Isabella had phoned him while he was wining and dining this slip of a girl. And now he felt ashamed that she had discovered him almost in flagrante delicto.


CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR

Tuesday, Oct 31: morning

Tuesday had a rather depressing start to it. Gerrard and Rossi had collected a large amount of evidence in terms of witness statements, but they felt they were just as far now from learning the truth about Laura Fellingham’s murder as they were a week previously. They now sat together in Gerrard’s office at the police station reviewing once again the statements they had been given. Isabella’s alibi that she was at the main gate seemed to hold up. Tommy saw her there. If he were telling the truth there could be only one other possibility, a possibility that seemed remote to the two police officers. It was conceivable that Tommy had seen Rita Fellingham and not Isabella Fellingham. If both women were in the vicinity at the time of the murder, Isabella could have carried out the crime and disposed of the murder weapon while Rita Fellingham was at the main gate and observed by Tommy.

When Gerrard outlined this account of events to Anna she responded by saying that she had thought of it but it could not possibly be true. There was no reason why Rita should be anywhere near Sydney Gardens on the night of the crime. However, she suggested that the police should check with the hospital to confirm that she was starting a night shift at the time of the murder. Anna spoke on the phone with one of the hospital’s administration staff. “I can confirm that she was on duty on that night and her shift started at eight o’clock,” he said. When Anna reported this fact to Gerrard both of the realised that although Rita Fellingham would have taken time to get to work, they still needed to check to make sure that she did not go to Sydney Gardens on the way to work. “The problem is,” said Gerrard, “Sydney Gardens is not on Rita Fellingham’s way to work. She would have to go out of her way to go there.” “You mean sir, that she would drive along the London Road, turn left over Cleveland Bridge and arrive at the main gate in Sydney Gardens.” “Yes, but why?” “She could been an accomplice in the murder with her sister. She agreed to do it to help her sister.”

“We have understood all along that Michael and Isabella Fellingham were having an affair. We know that Paul Fellingham suspected his wife and brother. We have assumed that Rita Fellingham had no part to play in the crime because she would not want to help her sister if Isabella was trying to take Michael Fellingham away from her. Could it not be the case that the account of this affair is a fabrication to put us off? Perhaps Rita and Isabella Fellingham were working together. Rita, for whatever reason wanted to leave Michael, so she passes him on to Bella. He’s an innocent in all this and goes along with it. So an affair of sorts does happen. The mother, Laura Fellingham was made to think that the affair was genuine. She was very upset about it. Rita and Isabella Fellingham knew she would be. They planned it that way.”

Anna interrupted with an objection. “Mrs Fellingham was hit by a car. Her daughters could not have planned that.” “Being hit by a car and Tommy Mattheson’s intervention was not planned. It was an added complication. The two women could still have planned and carried out the murder. We need to interview Rita Fellingham carefully. Is she at work now or at home, or what she calls home?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll ring and find out.” A few minutes later the two police officers were on their way to the hospital.

The ward where Rita was working was short staffed when the detectives arrived. Reluctantly the ward sister agreed that Mrs again should be interviewed in her office. Rita came in and sat down. Gerrard, who had never seen her before, recognised her instantly as the twin sister of Isabella. Gerrard conducted the interview while his colleague took detailed notes. They did not want to miss anything from this fourth member of the family. “On the night of the murder Mrs Laura Fellingham, where were you?” “I was at work on that Saturday evening.” “Am I right in thinking that your shift didn’t start until 8.00 p.m.?” “Yes, that’s correct.” “Where were you from 7.30 p.m. until 8.00 p.m.?” “Getting to work.” “Can anyone confirm that?” “No,