All Passion Spent by Bergotte (classic book list .TXT) 📕
Excerpt from the book:
The investigation almost grinds to a halt when the detectives seem to be making no headway and there is always the possibility that the crime was committed by an opportunist, passer-by with no criminal record. There is so little forensic evidence to help them solve this crime. It is Gerrard’s persistence in tracking down the killer that impresses his partner, Anna Rossi, although he has very little to go on.
Read free book «All Passion Spent by Bergotte (classic book list .TXT) 📕» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
Download in Format:
- Author: Bergotte
Read book online «All Passion Spent by Bergotte (classic book list .TXT) 📕». Author - Bergotte
had been discovered by Mr Albert Harper, a gardener, who had found Mrs Fellingham, 42, dead at Sydney Gardens, Bath shortly after 9.00 a.m. on Saturday, 21 October . James Linton, the Bath and North East Somerset Coroner said: "I am driven to the conclusion that Laura Fellingham was unlawfully killed and that's the verdict I am going to record today." Detective Chief Inspector Peter Gerrard said the circumstances of Mrs Fellingham's death were "extremely suspicious". Mr Linton was not permitted by law to name anyone who might have been responsible for Mrs Fellingham's death but her family said they were pleased with the verdict. "We were expecting this outcome but rather dreading it," said her daughter, Isabella Fellingham.’
Michael said, “I suggest that an opportunist, a thief who appeared on the scene, after Tommy who panicked and stabbed mother.” “There wasn’t anything to steal then, was there?” was Paul’s quick response. “Anyway,” he continued, “that’s for the police to sort out, not us.” “I think we ought to phone the police to see if they have any more news of the case,” proposed Isabella. “I don’t think they know any more than we do,” observed Michael. “Perhaps, you’re right. I’m going to phone them anyway,” said Bella, picking up the receiver next to her chair. Perhaps the others noticed that Rita had kept very quiet during the previous conversation but Paul challenged her. “Where were you at the time of your mother’s death?” “At work, of course,” she replied calmly. Michael interrupted her. “Your shift doesn’t start till 8.00 p.m. though, does it?” “I’ve got to get there, haven’t I?” she replied “It’s a long way from where we live to the hospital. I don’t suppose you’ve ever thought of that, Michael.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Saturday, Oct 28: evening
Shortly after graduating from university on 4th July a few months after his twenty-first birthday, Michael Fellingham was appointed to teach psychology at St Brendan’s VI Form College following a year’s teacher training in Bristol. Founded in the nineteen seventies by four enterprising Catholic businessmen the college had grown in popularity within a decade and boasted a thriving department of social sciences specialising in psychology and sociology. Situated in its own grounds just off the main A4 road to London it was in easy cycling distance for the young, athletic Mr Fellingham. He enjoyed his life there. His students were reasonably interested in the subject and some of them quite bright. He had a small group of personal students in his tutor group and his marking load was not too heavy. Since joining the college he had planned to start a distance learning M.A. in psychology but had never got round to it. His wife seemed to demand a lot of his time since he had been married.
Twice a term, on a Saturday night the students held a disco in the main hall to which they invited all the teaching staff. Only once before had Michael been to one of these discos. He had taken Rita with him. It had not been a great success. Rita had not liked the various teenage female students asking him to dance with them and had insisted that they return home early. Michael had not realised how jealous and possessive Rita could be. He had been genuinely shocked at her reaction. He also still did not realise how attractive these girls found him. This was the problem vexing him now. It had somehow got round the college that his wife was no longer living with him. A certain number of the girls thought that this gave them carte blanche to visit him at home on the pretext of getting help with their academic work. However, academic work was not at the forefront of the mind of the girl who had turned up at Michael’s house out of the blue on early Saturday evening when Michael returned from Laura’s funeral.
Lucy Banks, in her second year of sixth form study was dressed in the shortest of mini skirts and tight fitting blouse with the top buttons unfastened. Her long black hair waved as she shook her head and laughed as Michael told her he had not expected to see her and that he would be going out soon. She asked him if he would be going to the disco later on in the evening. He reluctantly admitted that he was. “I’ll see you there, then,” she said breezily, as Michael’s heart sank. She pulled out a lipstick and began applying it. In a few moments her lips were a gaudy red colour. Michael looked across the room at her and saw the long eyelashes and mascara that she had obviously worn for his benefit. “What have you come here for, precisely?” asked her teacher, getting a little short of patience. “Oh, this is just a social call, to see how you are, in the circumstances.” “What circumstances?” “Your wife leaving,” returned the girl.
“That’s none of your business,” said Michael, hotly. “No, I know it isn’t, but I don’t mean any harm.” “But you might inadvertently do harm. How did you know where I live?” “I came up here to see a friend, Julia, more than a year ago and I saw you getting out of a car and going into you’re your house. It’s all right, nobody else knows. I’ve kept the information to myself.” “It’s not all right,” asserted Michael, “seeing you socially amongst a group of young people at college is okay, but a one to one encounter in my home is out of order!” said Michael vehemently. “Yes, I suppose it is. I honestly didn’t realise that until you explained it just now. I’ll get going now. I’m at Julia’s now, I only popped down here to see you for five minutes. I won’t tell anyone about my visit, as long as you promise to dance with me at the disco tonight.” “I’m not making any promises,” said Michael firmly, “now please, go.” She got up and kissed him quickly on the cheek before making a swift exit via the front door.
Whilst Michael was remonstrating with Lucy, Isabella was at home with her husband Paul, in the process of angrily telling him that she was definitely going out to the disco that night with his brother and she wasn’t going to be stopped. He was reading a Saturday evening newspaper and seemed to be paying her scant attention. This added insult to injury. “The way I look at it is, that you have kept me tied down too much and just this once I’m going to have a little fun in my life. It’s time for me to start enjoying myself. I’m going to put ‘me’ first from now on.”
“You’ve always put yourself first, you know you have. How you can think of going out at a time like this beats me,” said Paul. “A time like what?” demanded Bella, knowing full well what he meant. “When we’ve just had your mother’s funeral. You might show a bit more respect.” “Well, you didn’t, did you? While she was lying in the mortuary you went off to London.” “But, I needed to get back to work.” Realising that things had come to a head, Paul was determined not to give in to her. He was the head of the household and if she would not listen and obey then there was nothing for it, he would have to use force. He had gradually psyched himself up for this moment.
Paul put down his newspaper, got up from his chair and seized hold of Isabella by the wrists. She tried to wriggle free but he held on even more tightly. “Let go,” she cried out, “you’re hurting me.” “Keep still, then you won’t get hurt,” he shouted back, still gripping hold of her wrists. “No, let go of me, you bully,” she wailed, the tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re not going out tonight with Michael or anyone else,” he shouted, and threw her down on the sofa, where she continued to sob. She wiped her eyes with a tissue that she took from a box resting on one of the arms of the sofa, then soothed her red and swollen wrists with each hand. She looked up at him with eyes that were full of hatred and resentment. “I will be going out tonight. There is nothing you can do to stop me,” she said very softly but firmly.
Paul sat down heavily in his chair once more and picked up the newspaper. “You are married to me. You are not going out with anyone else,” he said. “What is sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose,” replied Bella. “What’s that supposed to mean?” yelled Paul. “Someone called Katerina or Kate contacted me the other day,” said Bella, flatly, “she told me that on Tuesday evening, after I had phoned you, she had sat naked on your knee, whilst you kissed her on the mouth, your tongue down her throat. You would have slept with her if you hadn’t had to come home to see the police.” Bella left the room, slamming the door behind her, and went upstairs to wash and change in preparation for going out to the disco. Paul remained motionless in his chair. So, the wily Katerina had done what she had threatened to do, to find out his home telephone number and tell his wife what he had been doing in London unless he paid her a large sum of money. He had had no intention of paying her money, but he had not reckoned on her ability to be able to contact Bella.
Isabella came downstairs and went straight out to her car. She made no attempt to speak to Paul. She got into the driving seat and called Michael on her mobile to say that she was leaving and would be with him within the next half-hour. She wanted to think as she was driving that Katerina was merely mischief making and that Paul was more faithful than he really was. But she knew nothing of the blackmail threat that the Russian-Greek woman had made against her husband. By exposing her husband like this and going off the way she had, she knew that her marriage was in jeopardy. But there was no going back now on what she had done. Isabella was still very angry and upset when she arrived at Michael’s home and parked her car on his drive.
When Michael answered the door he saw immediately the state she was in and the emotional turmoil she was going through. “Is Paul giving you a tough time?” he asked. “He most certainly is,” she said, heatedly, “but I did not think he would use physical violence on me.” “He hit you?” asked Michael, incredulous at her suggestion. He grabbed me by the wrists and hurt me,” she complained. “No lasting physical damage done, then,” Michael said. “No, not physical damage but I feel emotionally bruised, I can tell you.” “Yes, I do understand,” he said sympathetically, motioning her to sit down. She sat on the sofa and beckoned him to sit next to her. She put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, glad of a few moments peace and told herself that she needed to calm down before leaving for the college.
“Let’s have a drink before leaving, shall we?” asked Michael. “Only a mineral water for me, I don’t want anything alcoholic, I’m driving, remember.” Michael went to the kitchen and poured two glasses of water. “So,” he said, when they had sat down together again, “why is my brother violent towards you?” “Because I’m going out with you.” “It’s
Michael said, “I suggest that an opportunist, a thief who appeared on the scene, after Tommy who panicked and stabbed mother.” “There wasn’t anything to steal then, was there?” was Paul’s quick response. “Anyway,” he continued, “that’s for the police to sort out, not us.” “I think we ought to phone the police to see if they have any more news of the case,” proposed Isabella. “I don’t think they know any more than we do,” observed Michael. “Perhaps, you’re right. I’m going to phone them anyway,” said Bella, picking up the receiver next to her chair. Perhaps the others noticed that Rita had kept very quiet during the previous conversation but Paul challenged her. “Where were you at the time of your mother’s death?” “At work, of course,” she replied calmly. Michael interrupted her. “Your shift doesn’t start till 8.00 p.m. though, does it?” “I’ve got to get there, haven’t I?” she replied “It’s a long way from where we live to the hospital. I don’t suppose you’ve ever thought of that, Michael.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Saturday, Oct 28: evening
Shortly after graduating from university on 4th July a few months after his twenty-first birthday, Michael Fellingham was appointed to teach psychology at St Brendan’s VI Form College following a year’s teacher training in Bristol. Founded in the nineteen seventies by four enterprising Catholic businessmen the college had grown in popularity within a decade and boasted a thriving department of social sciences specialising in psychology and sociology. Situated in its own grounds just off the main A4 road to London it was in easy cycling distance for the young, athletic Mr Fellingham. He enjoyed his life there. His students were reasonably interested in the subject and some of them quite bright. He had a small group of personal students in his tutor group and his marking load was not too heavy. Since joining the college he had planned to start a distance learning M.A. in psychology but had never got round to it. His wife seemed to demand a lot of his time since he had been married.
Twice a term, on a Saturday night the students held a disco in the main hall to which they invited all the teaching staff. Only once before had Michael been to one of these discos. He had taken Rita with him. It had not been a great success. Rita had not liked the various teenage female students asking him to dance with them and had insisted that they return home early. Michael had not realised how jealous and possessive Rita could be. He had been genuinely shocked at her reaction. He also still did not realise how attractive these girls found him. This was the problem vexing him now. It had somehow got round the college that his wife was no longer living with him. A certain number of the girls thought that this gave them carte blanche to visit him at home on the pretext of getting help with their academic work. However, academic work was not at the forefront of the mind of the girl who had turned up at Michael’s house out of the blue on early Saturday evening when Michael returned from Laura’s funeral.
Lucy Banks, in her second year of sixth form study was dressed in the shortest of mini skirts and tight fitting blouse with the top buttons unfastened. Her long black hair waved as she shook her head and laughed as Michael told her he had not expected to see her and that he would be going out soon. She asked him if he would be going to the disco later on in the evening. He reluctantly admitted that he was. “I’ll see you there, then,” she said breezily, as Michael’s heart sank. She pulled out a lipstick and began applying it. In a few moments her lips were a gaudy red colour. Michael looked across the room at her and saw the long eyelashes and mascara that she had obviously worn for his benefit. “What have you come here for, precisely?” asked her teacher, getting a little short of patience. “Oh, this is just a social call, to see how you are, in the circumstances.” “What circumstances?” “Your wife leaving,” returned the girl.
“That’s none of your business,” said Michael, hotly. “No, I know it isn’t, but I don’t mean any harm.” “But you might inadvertently do harm. How did you know where I live?” “I came up here to see a friend, Julia, more than a year ago and I saw you getting out of a car and going into you’re your house. It’s all right, nobody else knows. I’ve kept the information to myself.” “It’s not all right,” asserted Michael, “seeing you socially amongst a group of young people at college is okay, but a one to one encounter in my home is out of order!” said Michael vehemently. “Yes, I suppose it is. I honestly didn’t realise that until you explained it just now. I’ll get going now. I’m at Julia’s now, I only popped down here to see you for five minutes. I won’t tell anyone about my visit, as long as you promise to dance with me at the disco tonight.” “I’m not making any promises,” said Michael firmly, “now please, go.” She got up and kissed him quickly on the cheek before making a swift exit via the front door.
Whilst Michael was remonstrating with Lucy, Isabella was at home with her husband Paul, in the process of angrily telling him that she was definitely going out to the disco that night with his brother and she wasn’t going to be stopped. He was reading a Saturday evening newspaper and seemed to be paying her scant attention. This added insult to injury. “The way I look at it is, that you have kept me tied down too much and just this once I’m going to have a little fun in my life. It’s time for me to start enjoying myself. I’m going to put ‘me’ first from now on.”
“You’ve always put yourself first, you know you have. How you can think of going out at a time like this beats me,” said Paul. “A time like what?” demanded Bella, knowing full well what he meant. “When we’ve just had your mother’s funeral. You might show a bit more respect.” “Well, you didn’t, did you? While she was lying in the mortuary you went off to London.” “But, I needed to get back to work.” Realising that things had come to a head, Paul was determined not to give in to her. He was the head of the household and if she would not listen and obey then there was nothing for it, he would have to use force. He had gradually psyched himself up for this moment.
Paul put down his newspaper, got up from his chair and seized hold of Isabella by the wrists. She tried to wriggle free but he held on even more tightly. “Let go,” she cried out, “you’re hurting me.” “Keep still, then you won’t get hurt,” he shouted back, still gripping hold of her wrists. “No, let go of me, you bully,” she wailed, the tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re not going out tonight with Michael or anyone else,” he shouted, and threw her down on the sofa, where she continued to sob. She wiped her eyes with a tissue that she took from a box resting on one of the arms of the sofa, then soothed her red and swollen wrists with each hand. She looked up at him with eyes that were full of hatred and resentment. “I will be going out tonight. There is nothing you can do to stop me,” she said very softly but firmly.
Paul sat down heavily in his chair once more and picked up the newspaper. “You are married to me. You are not going out with anyone else,” he said. “What is sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose,” replied Bella. “What’s that supposed to mean?” yelled Paul. “Someone called Katerina or Kate contacted me the other day,” said Bella, flatly, “she told me that on Tuesday evening, after I had phoned you, she had sat naked on your knee, whilst you kissed her on the mouth, your tongue down her throat. You would have slept with her if you hadn’t had to come home to see the police.” Bella left the room, slamming the door behind her, and went upstairs to wash and change in preparation for going out to the disco. Paul remained motionless in his chair. So, the wily Katerina had done what she had threatened to do, to find out his home telephone number and tell his wife what he had been doing in London unless he paid her a large sum of money. He had had no intention of paying her money, but he had not reckoned on her ability to be able to contact Bella.
Isabella came downstairs and went straight out to her car. She made no attempt to speak to Paul. She got into the driving seat and called Michael on her mobile to say that she was leaving and would be with him within the next half-hour. She wanted to think as she was driving that Katerina was merely mischief making and that Paul was more faithful than he really was. But she knew nothing of the blackmail threat that the Russian-Greek woman had made against her husband. By exposing her husband like this and going off the way she had, she knew that her marriage was in jeopardy. But there was no going back now on what she had done. Isabella was still very angry and upset when she arrived at Michael’s home and parked her car on his drive.
When Michael answered the door he saw immediately the state she was in and the emotional turmoil she was going through. “Is Paul giving you a tough time?” he asked. “He most certainly is,” she said, heatedly, “but I did not think he would use physical violence on me.” “He hit you?” asked Michael, incredulous at her suggestion. He grabbed me by the wrists and hurt me,” she complained. “No lasting physical damage done, then,” Michael said. “No, not physical damage but I feel emotionally bruised, I can tell you.” “Yes, I do understand,” he said sympathetically, motioning her to sit down. She sat on the sofa and beckoned him to sit next to her. She put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, glad of a few moments peace and told herself that she needed to calm down before leaving for the college.
“Let’s have a drink before leaving, shall we?” asked Michael. “Only a mineral water for me, I don’t want anything alcoholic, I’m driving, remember.” Michael went to the kitchen and poured two glasses of water. “So,” he said, when they had sat down together again, “why is my brother violent towards you?” “Because I’m going out with you.” “It’s
Free e-book: «All Passion Spent by Bergotte (classic book list .TXT) 📕» - read online now on website american library books (americanlibrarybooks.com)
Similar e-books:
Comments (0)