Frozen Charlotte (3 page)

‘Natural causes or . . . ?’

She looked at the pair of them with amusement. ‘You really expect me to hazard a guess?’

Talith waited.

‘Not a clue,’ she said. ‘Now. Lead me to Lady Macbeth.’

She regarded Alice Sedgewick with interest before sitting down opposite her.

‘Mrs Sedgewick,’ she said, ‘I’m Dr Fontaine. I’m a police surgeon. I’ve been asked to come and see you because the police want to question you, preferably down at Monkmoor Police Station, about how you came to find yourself here, tonight, with the body of a child who is long-since dead. Can you tell me anything about it?’

Alice looked at her. ‘No,’ she said politely. ‘I’m afraid I can’t.’ she said. ‘I can’t tell you anything.’

‘Is this because you don’t want to or because you can’t remember?’

‘I can’t remember.’ A pause. ‘It’s possible that I don’t know.’

Interesting, Delyth Fontaine thought.

‘What
do
you remember?’

Alice turned puzzled eyes on her. ‘Sorry?’ she said, still in the same flat but polite, social voice.

‘Well – you know your name and you know your address.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you remember how you got here tonight?’

‘I think – I don’t know. I’m not sure.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’

Jane Miles was standing behind her looking sceptical. Like most doctors she thought that amnesia could be just a little too convenient for people who had not quite worked out what to say.

Delyth Fontaine met her eyes, gave the slightest hint of a very cynical smile and continued. ‘Do you drive a car, Mrs Sedgewick?’

Alice nodded. ‘But I sometimes use the bus.’

Delyth Fontaine asked the next question deceptively casually. ‘You can’t remember which you did tonight?’

‘I think I would probably have driven.’

It was
almost
an admission.

In which case the car would be outside. Delyth looked up and met Paul Talith’s eyes. It wouldn’t take the police long to home in on the registration number and search the hospital car park.

‘Do you feel unwell at the moment?’

A shake of the head.

‘Do you take any pills?’

Alice’s eyes looked bright. ‘I take something for my blood pressure,’ she said, in a reassuringly normal voice. ‘It’s a little high –’ the words were accompanied by a small, tight smile – ‘so my doctor tells me.’

‘Who is your doctor?’

‘I belong to the group practice on the Ellesmere Road.’

Delyth made a note of it.

‘Do you know where you are now?’

Alice nodded. ‘I’m at the hospital, I think, in a room at the accident and emergency department.’

It was all very precise and lucid – with significant bits missing.

‘Do you remember what you were doing earlier on this evening –
before
you came to the hospital?’

‘Decorating.’

Which explained the paint spatters on her clothes.

‘Do you mind if I just check your pulse and blood pressure?’

‘Not at all.’

Apart from a rapid pulse – 120 a minute – all the readings were normal as the police surgeon had anticipated. Except, of course, that no one in their right mind would call this a normal situation.

‘Mrs Sedgewick,’ she continued, ‘you seemed very upset earlier when the nurse looked at the baby you were carrying, wrapped up in a shawl.’

Alice’s shoulders drooped.

‘Do you need something to calm you down?’

Wearily she shook her head, bowing it in submission.

‘Do you have any objection to going down to the police station, Mrs Sedgewick?’

‘No.’

‘OK then.’ Delyth sighed and stood up, then left the room, followed by Roberts and Talith. ‘Fit to detain,’ she said. ‘I’ll ring Martha first thing Monday morning. You may as well take the infant straight to the hospital mortuary.’ Her eyes met those of both Roberts and Talith and she smiled. ‘It’ll at least free up the security guard.’

She paused then turned to speak only to Paul Talith. ‘I don’t want to tell you how to do your job,’ she said in a low voice, ‘but if I was the investigating officer in this case one of the first questions I’d ask would be how long she’s lived at her current address.’ She paused. ‘Assuming, that is, that the corpse was found somewhere near there. It’s a snowy night. The blanket was dry. I doubt she’d have been wandering in the countryside somewhere and stumbled across it. From the condition of the body the baby was been mummified – that is kept in warm, dry conditions. I would assume then that this body turned up in her own house. Oh and by the way, I don’t know where the blanket came from. It is a baby’s blanket but that hasn’t been with the baby’s body all this time. It’s too clean and in too good condition. If it had been wrapped around the body it would have deteriorated. Got stained, eaten by moths, rotted.’

Roberts and Talith both nodded. ‘Thanks, doc.’

‘Under the McNaughton Rules,’ she added, ‘I’m not absolutely certain whether she has a full and complete understanding of what’s going on around her. I suspect she’s working on two levels. Part of her mind is aware of her surroundings and part is somewhere else.’ She glanced back through the window at Alice’s calm face. ‘God only knows where. But wherever it is it doesn’t appear to be troubling her.’ Almost to herself she added, ‘I would dearly love to know how all this came about.’

Roberts nodded, with relief. Delyth Fontaine had taken charge, done her job and now they could take this weird woman down to the station and question her, which was what he and Talith were dying to do. A porter brought the mortuary trolley and loaded up the pathetic little bundle, zipped now in a forensic body bag, then trundled along the corridor to the hospital mortuary. The security guard was summoned to another part of the hospital where a confused patient had just assaulted a nurse, while the police were left to focus on their side of the job. Though she patently wasn’t a threat to them they both felt uncomfortable with her. She was unpredictable. They wondered whether she might ask to see the infant again and if they denied her request whether she would ‘flip’. One of the problems with having no blinds or curtains in Sister’s Office was that the trolley in which the infant’s body was encased was clearly visible through the window. There was nothing they could do about it. Sister’s Office was designed to have a goldfish view of the entire department. It ensured smooth running.

Paul Talith hadn’t always had the best of manners with the general public. He could be brusque but this time he made a real effort to do it properly. He hunkered down on his meaty thighs and spoke very gently to Alice. ‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Sedgewick,’ he said in his most polite and apologetic voice, ‘but we’re going to have to take a statement from you about . . .’ He jerked his head towards the window. ‘Down at the station. Is there anyone you’d like us to telephone?’ He gave a swift glance at her gold wedding band. ‘Your husband, perhaps?’ He ventured a friendly smile. ‘He must be wondering where on earth you are.’

All he got back was a guarded, panicked look. ‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ she answered tightly. ‘He’s away on business. Abroad. I don’t want to drag him from his work. He’s going through a difficult time.’ She met his eyes. ‘Like many people.’

Certainly like you, Talith thought, then realized none of this had sunk in. He sensed an aura of unreality around this woman and indeed the entire situation was surreal. How could she act with such normality having delivered a rotting corpse to the local hospital? Did she have no idea what was going on? Could she not see how abnormal this situation was, to be talking about ‘her husband being away on business’ when she’d arrived at the hospital nursing a long-dead baby?

He needed some anchor.

‘Well perhaps a family friend or a solicitor?’

Alice was silent for a while, frowning, thinking. Then her face cleared. ‘Both,’ she said, with a bright, social smile. ‘Let’s kill two birds with one stone.’ Then, equally unpredictably, she burst into tears. Talith straightened up, shot Roberts a despairing look and waited for the sobs to subside.

‘Acantha,’ she finally supplied. Roberts and Talith exchanged looks. Was that a name?

Alice Sedgewick finishing her crying with one last, wracking heave of her shoulders and explained. ‘Mrs Palk. She’s both family friend and a solicitor too. You can ring her if you like.’

I do like, Talith thought. Hope she can make some sense out of this. Then: ‘Do you have her number?’

Alice nodded and gave it out.

Roberts dialled the Shrewsbury number right then, using his mobile and breaking hospital rules. It was now after one in the morning. He didn’t expect much of a welcome and was not disappointed. The phone rang for a while before a male voice, both sleepy and angry, barked, ‘Yes?’

PC Roberts explained who he was and why he had rung and without another word the phone went dead while he heard an urgent, whispered conversation. Then another voice came on the line.

‘Hello?’ A calm, intelligent, sane voice. One which would take control. Thank goodness for that.

‘I’m PC Roberts from the Shrewsbury police.’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m speaking from the Royal Shrewsbury Hospital. We have a friend of yours here, a Mrs Sedgewick, in some rather strange circumstances.’

‘Alice? Is she hurt? Has she had an accident?’

‘No. She isn’t hurt but she’s in a bit of difficulty and we’re going to need to interview her down at the station. She has requested that you be present both as a solicitor and a friend.’

There was a moment’s silence than Mrs Palk said slowly, ‘What sort of difficulty, Constable Roberts?’

She’d made a note of his rank and name. Gethin Roberts swallowed. ‘I’d rather not say,’ he said. ‘It’s better we speak face to face.’

There was another moment’s silence before Mrs Palk said, ‘OK. I’ll be down at the station in twenty minutes. Monkmoor?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll see you there then.’

‘Thank you. I’m sure Mrs Sedgewick will appreciate it.’

Too late. The phone had been put down.

Roberts returned to the room with his news. ‘She’ll meet us at the station in twenty minutes,’ he said. Mrs Sedgewick looked up, grateful.

‘Shall we go then?’

They had also anticipated that Mrs Sedgewick might react to her removal from what Roberts had termed her ‘sanctuary’ but she seemed almost to have forgotten about it. She didn’t twitch or turn her head as they left the department but thanked the waiting doctor almost as if she was on some social visit to the place. It was as though she was on autopilot and her polite, well-mannered self had taken over. Talith and Roberts felt distinctly uncomfortable.

The journey took less than fifteen minutes at that time of night. There were a few stray roisterers about but the night was too cold to loiter so the town was largely quiet and deserted. The Welsh bridge had been closed since the explosion less than a week ago. They turned into the Harlescott Road then took a right, soon reaching Monkmoor Police Station.

They ushered Mrs Sedgewick into an interview room and asked her again, ‘Are you sure you don’t want us to contact your husband? He might be worried about you.’

It provoked the same violently negative response as before. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Please.’

Paul Talith felt even more concerned. This response was unbalanced. Too vehement. He glanced at his watch and wished the solicitor would hurry up and arrive.

A couple more minutes ticked away. Talith tried again. ‘Son? Daughter?’

This time even more violent shaking of the head. Talith gave up and waited in silence for the solicitor to arrive.

At twenty five to two a.m. Acantha Palk made an appearance. She was a big woman – impressive – almost six feet tall and of mixed parentage at a guess. She had black frizzy hair which she had attempted to control with a hair clip, skin an attractively dark shade of olive and expressive big black eyes and was wearing an orange kaftan underneath a long black woollen coat. Alice seemed to come to life as her friend entered the room. She stood up. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry to get you . . .’

The big woman enveloped her in a bear hug. ‘Alice,’ she scolded, ‘what
have
you been up to? Too many gins behind the wheel?’

Alice simply shook her head.

Roberts and Talith exchanged glances.

Acantha Palk immediately took command. ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ she said in a deep, booming voice, ‘I’d like to speak to Mrs Sedgewick alone for a few minutes.’

They would have loved to be flies on the wall. What story was Mrs Sedgewick telling her friend?

After about fifteen minutes the door opened and Ms Palk met their eyes.

‘A strange business,’ she commented.

It was that.

‘Mrs Sedgewick is very tired and upset,’ she continued without waiting for a comment. ‘I’d appreciate it if you kept your questions to a minimum for now. She’s not going to walk out on you or disappear. I’ll vouch for her.’