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

to know… I decided to go into Bath myself at about 7.30. I thought I would confront the two of them together. I went to a restaurant I have been to on one or two occasions with Bella, but neither she nor Michael for that matter ever showed up.”

“How long did you stay?”
“I decided to eat there and left about nine thirty. I asked if any one had made a booking in the name of Fellingham, but no one had. I assumed I had got the wrong place.”
“Although the restaurant people could confirm that you were there they couldn’t tell you apart from your brother could they?”
“No, but they would have a record of my payment details.”
“Yes, but if you and your brother were in the vicinity of Sydney Gardens on the night in question, no eye-witness would be able to identify either one of you?”
“No, that’s true.”
After an hour of intensive questioning Gerrard shook hands with Mr Fellingham and escorted him from the building. Paul Fellingham left the police station a worried man. His first worry was that his wife had lied to the police. Why? His second worry was that his wife and his brother were having an affair. He needed to find out from Rita if she thought that there was any substance to this.

In the meantime Paul had some business to attend to in Bristol. He was due to meet his colleague, Jeremy Thomas, for lunch, in Clifton. His worries would have to be put on one side for the time being. He drove to Bristol and up to the Downs. The sight of Clifton suspension bridge always impressed him. Jeremy was already waiting for him when he arrived at the little pub. “Hello Jeremy,” said Paul, “it’s been a long time.” “Yeah, about eighteen months I reckon. Let’s go through to the lounge bar, shall we?” replied Jeremy. “How are you keeping?” “Not bad. You’re going through it a bit though, aren’t you?” “With mother-in-law’s death, yes, very much so. Thanks for inviting me out for lunch. It’s a welcome break.” Paul explained the circumstances surrounding Laura’s death and then insisted on changing the subject.

They ordered drinks and food from the menu written in long hand on the wall. Paul then proceeded to tell Jeremy of his personal problems unconnected with the family. “I haven’t said anything to anyone about this but I know that I can trust you and I need to tell someone.” “What is it?” “Well, the fact of the matter is… I am deep in debt. My financial situation is critical. I’ve been playing the stock market and I’ve lost heavily. I’ve invested money, which I cannot afford to lose. Someone gave me financial information that turned out to be false. I have bought a lot of shares that have lost value.” “How much do the losses amount to?” “Just short of a hundred thousand,” said Paul, tonelessly. “Whew,” replied Jeremy, “how on earth are you going to pay that off?” “It’s worse than that. I’ve got to pay interest on the loan as well.” “That’s terrible.”

“It gets worse I’m afraid. I’m being blackmailed.” “Who on earth is blackmailing you?” “A girl from work, my headquarters in London.” “Sex, presumably.” “Yes,” said Paul, “but I’m going to have to brazen it out. If she tells Isabella I’ll just have to suffer the consequences.” “Which are?” “I dread to think… end of marriage I suppose.” The waitress arrived with the meals on a large tray and served the two men. The conversation dried up immediately. When the waitress had left for the kitchen Paul said, “So you see, I’m between the proverbial rock and a hard place.” “You have my deepest sympathy,” said Jeremy, “I was in the same predicament myself not too long ago. Fortunately my father came to my aid and bailed me out. Good old pa.”

“I don’t have a pa,” said Paul. “Isn’t there someone in the family you can turn to?” “At this precise moment? No, nobody.” “What about your mother-in-law? I know this may not be the right time to talk about inheritance and so on, but won’t you be left some money?” “We haven’t heard what’s in the will yet, but I’m pinning my hopes on that source of money, yes.” “Won’t Isabella be on hand to help. She worked with her mother didn’t she?” “Yes, but you see, if the blackmail girl tells Bella everything I’m going to be stuffed, aren’t I?” “I see what you mean.” “If my father hadn’t married my mother-in-law I would have been all right. As it is the money will be split four ways.” “But you mother-in-law’s money will add to it surely?” “Not split four ways instead of two, it won’t.”

“I see,” said Jeremy. “Anyway, we’ll see what happens.” “Yeah. I’ll get the bill. Fancy a walk across the bridge.” “Sure.” “Then,” said Jeremy, “I’ll take you back to the office and you can look at our plans for the new computer system. I’ve arranged for you to meet our technical department, because as you know, I’m strictly non-technical. You can stay as long as you want.” “That’s fine.” The two men walked to the suspension bridge and gazed down into the foaming waters of the Bristol Channel below. They did not stay long. The wind across the bridge was very strong and biting cold. They pulled their coats tightly around them and made their way back to their cars. Paul followed his friend to the port of Bristol at Portishead, to spend the next few hours pouring over detailed proposals for a computer system.

When Anna arrived at the laboratory she was ushered in to see Dr Ray almost immediately. They sat together in an office. He maintained his brusque manner of their previous meeting and insisted on going through all the details of the procedure, which were already quite well known to the police sergeant. “The visit to the scene of the incident gives me a chance to establish the background to the case,” he began. “I was able to take some samples before the body was moved.” Anna shuffled restlessly on her chair as Dr Ray continued his peroration. “As you know, I as the forensic pathologist am responsible to the coroner for establishing the medical cause of death. In this case there is no clear cause to write on the death certificate. Therefore, the coroner has instructed me to carry out a post mortem examination to determine the cause of death. That will take place this afternoon at half past twelve.” “How long will it take?” asked Anna. “If the autopsy is straight forward it should take a couple of hours, if not it will take a lot longer, may be four hours.” “Are there any facts that you can tell me now?” asked Anna, “before the post-mortem.” “She was definitely the victim of a road traffic accident. She sustained injuries to her head and shoulder. Until my autopsy is completed this afternoon I cannot tell you any more.” “Okay, thank you Dr Ray, you’ll send us your report as soon as possible?” “Yes, as soon as possible. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get on with some work.”

On her way back to the police station Anna thought about her conversation with Dr Ray. Shouldn’t she have seen the body? Was he trying to protect her from such a gruesome sight as a corpse? He had treated her as if she had never seen a corpse before. Perhaps Gerrard would have made a better job of seeing the locum pathologist. Perhaps he would have treated a male police officer very differently. She did not know. She did not like Dr Ray at all. She was looking forward to the return of the regular pathologist, Dr Eve Terry.

When Anna returned, Gerrard summarised the facts that Paul Fellingham had given him, reading from a small notebook.
“Paul Fellingham, aged twenty-four, husband of Isabella Fellingham, left secondary school when he was sixteen at the end of his fifth year. He worked in a local bank for several years, then attended a computer course sponsored by the bank. He subsequently left the bank and now works as a computer specialist for a large oil company, a job obtained through his father. He travels a great deal and is often away from home.” Gerrard filled Anna in with all the details concerning the Saturday night, and then said, “From what Paul Fellingham told me I was left with the impression that Rita was not unduly worried about her mother’s failure to turn up for the meeting. She did not regard her absence as a disappearance. Have you got anything from the lab yet?”
“No, not much.” Anna explained that Dr Ray spent some time going through the details of what would happen in the post-mortem to be held that afternoon but was not very forthcoming about anything else apart from the injuries Mrs Fellingham had received as a result of her involvement in a motor accident. She did not mention her dislike of Dr Ray. “Let’s catch up with this Dickinson, the driver of the yellow sports car and hear what he’s got to say. Then we need to find the other two Fellinghams and establish the truth about their movements on Saturday night.”


CHAPTER EIGHT

Wednesday, October 25: afternoon

On Wednesday Phil Dickinson was at home. His girlfriend Lynne, a tall woman in her late twenties, with long ash blonde hair flowing over her shoulders and a large pair of gold earrings was trying to comfort him. She had not seen him for a week because she had been ill with a minor ailment. Now she had recovered she had decided not to go into work after lunch, as she had promised her boss. She had called round to see Phil after a rather difficult conversation on the telephone. She had her own key to his tiny apartment. Lynne opened the front door and called his name, but heard no reply. She walked along the passage, looking in all the rooms and eventually found him in the front room, motionless, his face a pasty white colour. “You look awful Phil. What on earth is the matter?” she asked, but again, he made no response. She threw herself down on the sofa next to him, kicking off her shoes and took hold of his hand. “Why couldn’t you tell me on the phone?” she continued, but still elicited no response from him.

He turned towards her, putting his head on her breast and his arms around her. She could feel his heart beating as he began to sob gently. He tried to fight back the tears, but he couldn’t stop them. She felt for her handbag lying on the sofa next to her, opened it and produced a tissue from its dark interior, shaking it open as she did so. She gave it into his hand. He dabbed at his eyes like a small child and then held it against his face. He was choking with emotion, too much so to say anything. She stroked his hair and kissed him, first on the forehead and then on the cheek. Whatever mental anguish he was suffering she wanted to share it. She knew it was going to take some time for her to coax any information out of him and she could see that he was deeply upset.

“I’ve done a stupid thing, Lynne, and the police are coming here now, to grill me.” “What have you done?” asked the young woman, but as she did so, the doorbell rang and Phil went to answer it. After showing Gerrard and Rossi into the living room they