Gift Wrapped (27 page)

Read Gift Wrapped Online

Authors: Peter Turnbull

‘Dare say the rain helped,' Yellich added. ‘It would have muddied the scene quite nicely. Any footprints would be washed away. Can you remember how long was it before her body was found?'

‘I think nearly two days because her father had forbidden her to walk through the woods and so they spent a lot of time looking in the wrong place.' Julia Bartlem smiled. ‘But I dare say that you'll have a record of it all. An unsolved child murder ... you can give it to your cold case team.'

‘You know, we might just do that.' Hennessey clenched his fist. ‘We might just do that, Mrs Bartlem.'

‘We'll be most cooperative.' Julia Bartlem smiled at Hennessey and then at Yellich. ‘Most cooperative.'

‘I am sure you will be,' Hennessey growled his reply.

‘But you were going to tell me what you think, Mr Hennessey.' Julia Bartlem continued to smile. ‘I don't know how we got on to the story of poor Sarah Gosling.'

Hennessey paused and collected himself. ‘What I think is that you bullied your husband to take you on a touring holiday in France in your camper van and your sister Alice came along, apparently at the last minute, but that was well planned. When in France you murdered your husband Edward Bartlem, probably by pulling a plastic bag over his head when he was sleeping so as not to cause injuries ...'

Julia Bartlem continued to smile as she listened intently.

‘Then you drove along back roads until you were safely in Belgium and, having removed anything that could identify his corpse, you rolled his body into a ditch. You probably brought his clothes back to England and donated them to a charity shop.'

‘My, Inspector Hennessey,' again Mrs Bartlem smiled, ‘what a wicked imagination you have. Really most wicked.'

‘After Mr Bartlem had been presumed deceased you then acquired ownership of the house and his business. And you now have someone managing the business for you.'

‘You have that bit right.' Julia Bartlem raised a finger. ‘That's correct.'

‘What is correct?' Hennessey replied quickly. ‘The murder?'

‘No, no ... the fact that I now have a man to manage the fleet of taxis for me. That is quite correct.'

Hennessey sighed deeply and then continued. ‘In your sister's case, Mrs Bartlem, she had on previous occasions cooperated with her husband by allowing him to sign his assets over to her whenever he was starting a new business venture, and when it was safe to do so she would re-sign all the assets back to him, thus giving her credibility as a faithful and a trustworthy wife. Then Mr Mellish murdered James Wenlock because Wenlock was blackmailing him ...'

‘And you can prove that?' Julia Bartlem asked.

‘Yes, we will prove it.' Hennessey nodded and smiled. ‘Well, that is to say we won't have to prove it because Peregrine Mellish will confess to the murder. He is talking to his solicitor as we speak and I fully expect him to confess because it's the best thing that he can do. By confessing he will get a lesser sentence and an earlier parole hearing. I have been doing this job for a very long time and believe you me, I know when someone is going to come clean. Peregrine Mellish is about to come clean and start working for himself.'

‘Well, we will just have to wait and see, won't we?' Julia Bartlem held her smile. ‘We'll see, but do carry on.'

Her smile, thought Hennessey, was infuriatingly and unshakeably confident. He realized that Peregrine Mellish was close to making a full confession. Julia Bartlem and probably her sister, Alice Mellish, certainly were both very far from confessing.

‘Then,' Hennessey continued, ‘your sister, probably having played some part, some greater or lesser part in the murder of James Wenlock, obtained the murder weapon with her husband's fingerprints and James Wenlock's blood upon it and secreted it in a safe place, tightly wrapped in plastic so as to preserve the evidence implicating Peregrine Mellish in the murder of James Wenlock. Over the years Peregrine Mellish's fingerprints would most probably have decayed but James Wenlock's blood would not. That is enough to convict with the fact that it was found under Peregrine Mellish's potting shed in his garden; that, together with Earnest Grypewell's confession, is a certain conviction.' Hennessey paused before he continued. ‘She waited ... then she and you waited ... until once again Peregrine Mellish signed all his assets over to his wife, your sister, when he was starting another new business venture, and then, once it was all in her name, it was then that you and she started to send anonymous postcards to the drop-in centre, where you insisted on handing them to the police, knowing they would lead to Mr Mellish's conviction. Mr Mellish will be sent to prison for a long time, leaving your sister in possession of his fortune, just as you acquired your late husband's wealth once he had been presumed deceased. That, Mrs Bartlem, is what I think.'

Julia Bartlem looked to her left and then to her right and then at George Hennessey. ‘That,' she said calmly, ‘is a most fanciful tale, it is quite the most fanciful tale I have heard for many a long year. All you have to do now is to prove it.'

The red recording light glowed softly, the twin cassettes spun slowly and silently. Hennessey and Yellich sat together facing Alice Mellish across the surface of the highly polished table in interview room three. Mrs Mellish sat alone, similarly having declined the offer of legal representation and after listening to Detective Chief Inspector Hennessey she looked to her left and then to her right and said, smiling, ‘That is a most fanciful tale, it is quite the most fanciful tale I have heard for many a long year. All you have to do now is to prove it.'

The red recording light glowed softly, the twin cassettes spun slowly and silently.

‘My client wishes to make a full confession,' Percival St John stated.

‘Good man.' Hennessey smiled, he leaned forward and clasped his hands together and beamed at Peregrine Mellish. ‘It's always the best course of action in the light of so much evidence.'

‘This will help me?' Mellish appealed. ‘I know it's murder but I still want to do as little jail time as possible. I don't see myself as a criminal. I know that I've done some dodgy things but I don't mix with criminals.'

‘We will note your confession,' Hennessey assured him, ‘and the judge will take it into consideration. You can also argue duress caused by Wenlock's blackmailing of you. Cooperation from you when in prison, a genuine show of remorse and you could win an early parole. You will receive a nominal life sentence,' Hennessey explained, ‘but you could be out within ten years.'

‘Ten years,' Mellish echoed. ‘Ten years.'

‘Make full use of the facilities,' St John advised. ‘Register for an Open University degree ... that always impresses parole boards and the anticipated sentence was not ten years ... it was within ten years.'

‘It does?' Mellish glanced at his solicitor. ‘I mean the OU degree course?'

‘Yes, yes it does,' St John replied. ‘You're bettering yourself, aren't you? Moving away from crime.'

‘I see.' Mellish had a vacant look about him. ‘Yes ... yes, I'll do that ... I'll do that. I've always been interested in history ... time to study ... it has an attraction. I can use prison time to my advantage.'

‘All right,' Hennessey refocused the conversation. ‘What happened?'

‘But I have given it all to her,' Mellish complained. ‘I'll come out to nothing.'

Hennessey remained silent.

‘Nothing ... I am penniless and without a property. I bet it was her who betrayed me. Was it? Was it her?'

‘I can't tell you,' Hennessey replied. ‘Not at this stage, anyway. It might come out in the trial.'

‘The newspapers said postcards had been sent to the police?' Mellish asked.

‘Again, we can't comment,' Hennessey replied. ‘Just tell us what happened.'

‘I bet it was her,' Mellish appealed to Hennessey, ‘her and her sister. You know, sometimes they talk like they're one person, like one personality in two different bodies stringing whole sentences together without any form of rehearsing.'

‘So we have heard.'

‘It was them,' Mellish continued. ‘I know it was those two, they gift wrapped me and handed me to you on a silver platter.' Mellish buried his head in his hands. ‘She waited until ... oh ...' he glanced up at Hennessey, ‘her brother-in-law ... her sister's husband. She suddenly announced that she'd been invited to go on holiday with them and off she went ... only the two sisters returned.'

‘So no marital discord between you and your wife at the time?'

‘None,' Mellish shook his head, ‘none at all. Oh, my ... you should ...'

‘We are.' Hennessey smiled, anticipating him. ‘The disappearance of Edward Bartlem is being investigated. We have been in touch with our Continental European counterparts, we have appealed for witnesses in the French and Belgian media ... that is in hand.'

‘Why did I marry her?' Mellish appealed to Hennessey. ‘Why did I marry into that family? Those two are not human. What did I marry ... ?'

‘Let's just hear your story, please,' Hennessey pressed.

‘Yes, I'm sorry ...' Mellish paused. ‘Well, Wenlock had the bite on me, you know, blackmail. He came round to my house. I invited him to come round so we could talk about it, never expecting him to agree but what did he do?'

‘He agreed,' Hennessey replied.

‘Straight into the lion's den. I banged him over the head. I don't think I did any damage but he went down ... we ...'

‘We?'

‘Me and Alice,' Mellish explained.

‘I see ... all right.' Hennessey smiled. ‘Just clarifying things.'

‘Yes, so we turned him over and I pushed the file into his chest ... he gave a shudder and that was it. I had killed a man ... there was hardly any blood.'

‘There wouldn't have been,' Hennessy explained. ‘The point of the file went straight into his heart.'

‘Julia told me it would; she told me where to put the pointed tip of the file.'

‘That is interesting – as though she had done it before?' Hennessey asked.

‘Yes.' Mellish nodded. ‘Just like that ... as though she had done it before ... like she knew what she was doing.'

‘All right, carry on, please,' Hennessey encouraged Mellish. ‘You are doing well. Very well.'

‘So after we had killed him we waited until evening and bundled him into our car – he wasn't a big man – and drove out to the country ... Dug a hole ... it took me all night but I have ... I had the strength and the stamina for it and in he went and we covered him up.'

‘We?' Hennessey clarified. ‘You and your wife?'

‘Yes, we bought two spades. I did all the digging but Alice helped with the filling in, in fact she did most of the filling in because by then I was totally exhausted.'

‘I can imagine.'

‘We then planted some oak saplings we had taken with us to try and explain the disturbed soil. It seemed to work because no one questioned the soil being disturbed. He'd still be down there if I hadn't signed everything over to Alice ... such a dear, sweet woman is she.'

‘And the file?' Hennessey asked. ‘What did you do with that?'

‘Alice assured me that she had thrown it into the river as I had asked her to do.'

‘In fact,' Hennessey leaned back in his chair, ‘she had wrapped it up in a plastic bag and pushed it under the potting shed in your garden, and then waited.'

‘Yes ... and waited.' Mellish also leaned back in his chair. ‘And in the interim, while she was waiting, Alice helped her sister get rid of her husband.'

‘Probably ... probably,' Hennessey replied, ‘but that still has to be proved. All right, let's get this down in the form of a written statement.'

Christmas Eve – 22.00 hours

The man and the woman sat in silence in the softly illuminated room, sipping mulled wine. They had enjoyed the ghost story broadcast on Radio Four and had then switched the wireless off. The previous day the man had given evidence in the trial of Shane Bond, who had unexpectedly insisted on pleading not guilty to the murder of Henry Hall, and who had subsequently been found guilty and sentenced to life with a minimum tariff of fifteen years, after a trial lasting three days. Peregrine Mellish's trial, by contrast, was over in less than a minute. He stood as the charge was read, said, ‘Guilty,' the judge said, ‘Life,' and he was led down to the cells.

‘So,' the woman said softly, ‘all over before Christmas. Just.'

The man glanced round the room; the log in the grate gave a pleasant warmth, while a respectable number of cards bedecked the mantelpiece and other surfaces. In the hall a recently felled pine tree sapling stood by the door, beneath which were parcels to be opened the following morning. ‘I wish I could feel the same but it is ... once again ... we have glimpsed what happened but have been able to prove but ten per cent of it. We know now what probably happened to the bullying Sarah Gosling. Julia Bartlem's “admission” is on record, but that case still remains open. The Bartlem family reburied Edward in a grave of his own in Belgium rather than bring his body home, letting him lie where he fell, like a battlefield casualty ... at least they now have closure. But the Cleg twins, they murdered Sarah Gosling and Edward Bartlem. One of them, at least one, conspired in the murder of James Wenlock and the disposal of his remains. Alice Mellish might not have pushed the file into James Wenlock's chest but she still would have collected life for her part in his murder. Of course, she's not admitting it. She's not admitting anything and we can't prove anything.' He sipped his drink. ‘Though by means of compensation, we did solve the murder of Henry Hall, who up until then had been only a missing person ... so he got some justice, God rest him.'

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