All Passion Spent by Bergotte (best beach reads of all time txt) 📕

/> “Can you be more specific?” asked Gerrard.
“Well, strictly off the record, I’d say she’s been in a car accident as a pedestrian and her body dragged or carried to where she was found, over there,” he said, pointing in the direction of the bushes.
“Any idea of the time of death?”
“No, I can’t say yet,” said Dr Ray, emphatically.
“Oh, come on,” said Gerrard, showing signs of irritation, “you must have some idea!”
“No, no, don’t push me please,” replied the pathologist.
“Give me a hint, please.”
“Okay, but again, this is strictly off the record, I’d say she’s been dead for at least thirty-six hours.”
“So, you think that she died some time on Saturday?” Dr Ray shrugged his shoulders, turned on his heel and walked out of the park. Inspector Gerrard turned to Anna as they watched the pathologist go. “Doesn’t waste words does he, Dr Ray?”
“No, he does seem to be rather taciturn,” answered Anna, as she saw the defiant strides the pathologist was making. Then he got into his car and left through the main gate.
“Now,” said Gerrard, “I think you’ve done a really efficient job in getting things so organised before I arrived. Well done!”
“Thank you, sir,” said Anna, smiling at her superior, glad that her efforts were appreciated.
“I think we have a suspicious death here, at the very least. I’d like you to work with me on this case.”
“Thank you sir. It will be a great pleasure to work with you, sir.”
“That’s settled then. By the way, I don’t want to call you Sergeant Rossi all the time. Do you mind telling me your first name?”
“Not at all, sir. It’s Anna.”
“Good, Anna it is.”

Gerrard walked over to see the SOCOs and uniformed police that were at the scene. They had erected some posts and tape, warning that the area was now a crime scene. Gerrard told them that he wanted the place searched for anything that might give them a clue as to how the body had been transported to its resting-place. Footprints could be vital if available and also any drag marks. He also told them to look for any items that might have dropped out of the lady’s handbag while she was being moved, because when the body was found the handbag was open. Anna waited for him near his car. He joined her a few minutes later. “This death does seem to be suspicious,” he repeated. “Bert said he thought she had been brutally murdered and I think he could be right. Let’s hope the SOCOs find something useful.”

As he said these words an ambulance drove in at the main gate and two uniformed men climbed out. They asked for directions and went to remove the body for post mortem examination. Gerrard drove with Anna to the police station, where they both set about making preliminary reports from the notes they had taken. While she was writing, Anna wondered what it was going to be like working for Chief Inspector Gerrard. She had heard a lot about him since joining the police force and coming to Bath.


After two hours intensive work, with hardly a word between them Gerrard looked towards Anna and said. “If our pathologist is right and she was a victim of a car accident we need to locate the driver as quickly as possible. And if, as I think is likely, he or she is not directly responsible for her death, we need to eliminate the driver from our inquiries as quickly as possible, also.”
“Yes sir,” replied Anna. “What I don’t understand is why the body was moved to the bushes. If a passing motorist who didn’t stop knocked her down, why didn’t someone ring 999 and get assistance? You would have thought there would have been some eyewitnesses to the accident. It’s extremely unlikely that somebody could be knocked down and then spirited away without being seen, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s what puzzles me. Shall we get some lunch?”
“I don’t eat much at lunchtime but I’m quite happy to keep you company, sir,” said Anna.
“What do you normally eat?”
“I often have a sandwich and a drink, fruit juice or mineral water.”
“Let’s find ourselves a sandwich and a drink, then,” said Gerrard.
“Is that all right for you?”
“Yes. Perhaps we can sit in the Abbey courtyard to eat them.”
“Waitrose is pretty good for sandwiches and things.”
“Let’s walk round there, then.”
The two were about to leave the building when the Chief Superintendent loomed into view. “Good morning, Peter,” he said, “I hear you’re working on a murder case.”
“News travels fast. We don’t know that yet sir. At present we’re treating it as a suspicious death.”
“Okay, keep me informed of any developments.”
“Well, there is one thing you can help me with,” said Gerrard, “we are going to need as many witnesses as possible. No one has come forward yet. I’ve spoken to the press but I was wondering whether we could put something out on the evening news, on local radio and television, more than just a bulletin I mean?”
“It seems like a good idea to me,” replied the Chief Superintendent, “I’ll leave you to fix it up. Make an appeal for any witnesses to come forward. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. Do you want to do the actual broadcast yourself, sir?”
“No, no I don’t think so… I’ll leave all that to you. You know the details of the case and I assume you’re keeping up with the paper work?”
“Yes, sir. We started that this morning. I do have some misgivings about the pathologist, Dr Ray.”
“Oh, they’ve brought him back have they? He was a good man in his time. What’s the problem with him?”
“He did not stay for very long this morning and when I was talking to him he cut short the conversation and walked off. He wasn’t prepared to discuss the case in any detail.”
“Well, he can’t, can he? He gave you enough to go on, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he made a few tentative remarks but was very non-committal.”
“All these pathologists are like that in my experience. They won’t say anything until they have fully examined the body in the lab. Anyway, you’ll just have to be patient and wait for his report.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, as I say, keep me informed.” And with these words he went on his way. “That was Chief Superintendent John Tresillian, if you didn’t know,” said Gerrard to Anna as they stepped out of the police station.

After buying what they wanted in the supermarket, the two detectives made their way to the Abbey courtyard where they found a bench to sit on and entertainment from a street musician. Anna pointed a slender finger towards the Roman Baths and asked Gerrard, “Have you ever been in?”
“Yes, I’m the kind of Bathonian who appreciates the cultural aspects of the city. I’ve been round the Roman Baths several times. It’s much improved in recent years. Have you ever seen round the baths yourself?”
“Yes. My mother has a great fascination for the city. She brought me here when I was a girl. She lives in Florence now. She once showed me a magazine article which called Bath, the Florence of England.”
“Presumably,” answered Gerrard, “because Pultney Bridge in Bath is like the Ponte Vecchio in Florence?”
“Exactly so.”


CHAPTER THREE

Monday, October 23: afternoon

A little after two o’clock, Chief Inspector Gerrard and Detective Sergeant Anna Rossi drove out to the home of the deceased woman. Here, Anna had arranged to meet Mrs Sandra Smith, the next door neighbour and home help of Laura. They drove out of the city, turned up the Warminster road, through the Limpley Stoke Valley and turned off to arrive at a house close to the villages of Farleigh Hungerford and Wingfield, near Trowbridge.

Mrs Smith was there to greet them when they stopped outside the house. “Come on in,” she said, “it’s such terrible news, the poor woman dying like that.” The two detectives entered the house and were shown into the front room, where they sat down opposite the sorrowful Mrs Smith. “It’s come as a huge shock, I can tell you,” she continued.
“Good afternoon, Mrs Smith,” said Gerrard, glad of the opportunity to introduce himself and his colleague when the garrulous Mrs Smith had at last paused for breath. Mrs Smith started again.
“I’ve worked for Laura Graveney for about ten years. I come in to clean and tidy up on a Monday morning. I usually do the brass and polishing on a Monday afternoon, if I’m needed. Sometimes Mrs Graveney helps me… I mean, helped me. I won’t be able to get used to her not being here for a long, long time, and that’s for sure.”
“Why do you call her Mrs Graveney?” interjected Anna. “We were given to understand that her name was Fellingham, Mrs Laura Fellingham.”
“Yes, that’s quite correct, my dear,” said Mrs Smith, “but let me explain it all to you.”
“Please do,” replied Anna.
“I’ve known her for years as Mrs Graveney, and I call her that out of habit. In fact, in 2004 her husband John Graveney died of cancer. He was only fifty five years of age. Anyway, she was much younger. She was forty-two, I think, when he left her a young widow. Well, in January 2005 Jane Fellingham, died in a freak accident. She was hit by a golf ball, when she was out for a walk.”
“Who is Jane Fellingham?” asked Gerrard.
“I’m coming to that, but let me tell it in my own way, or else I will get all confused. It’s quite complicated really.”
“All right, take your time and tell it in your own way,” said Gerrard.
“As I was saying, Jane Fellingham, who was only fifty, by the way, died in an accident when she was out walking. Her husband, David Fellingham, married Mrs Graveney, Laura, later in that same year, in October 2005.” The ages of the people concerned in this tale seemed to be of great importance to Sandra Smith and she also showed the detectives that she had a good memory for this kind of factual detail.

“We still don’t know who these Fellinghams are,” said Anna.
“Be patient, and I’ll tell you.”
“Okay, carry on,” said Gerrard.
“Well, in February, earlier this year, on Tuesday 14th February, Valentines Day, if I remember rightly, Laura’s new husband David Fellingham suddenly died of a heart attack, leaving Laura a widow once again.”
“I see,” said Anna, though she was not sure that she did see.
“Now, this is where it gets complicated. John and Laura Graveney had two twin daughters. They’re identical twins, Isabella and Margherita, known as Bella and Rita to their family and friends. She, Mrs Graveney, wanted her identical twin daughters to have Italian names. She’s the arty one in love with all things Italian.”
“Interesting,” murmured Gerrard.
“Now, David and Jane Fellingham, had twin boys, again, identical twins they were. They married the Graveney girls. Paul married Isabella and Michael married Margherita. So, both couples are named Fellingham.”
“And when Laura married David Fellingham, that made a third couple, named Fellingham,” observed Anna.
“Right you are,” said Mrs Smith, emphatically.
“Are they local people?” began Anna, “I mean do they live locally?”
“Oh, yes, they never moved far away.”
“Where do they live?”
“Paul and Isabella live up on Wellsway and Michael and Margherita live in Bathford.”
“Do you have their addresses, by any chance?”
“Yes, they’re on my Christmas card list. There’s something else you might be interested to know.”
“What’s that?” asked Gerrard, leaning forward in his chair and studying the lady’s face carefully.