Free Unnatural Wastage by Betty Rowlands

from our travels.’
    â€˜You mean “kitsch”?’ said Rathbone with a touch of sarcasm.
    â€˜I told you, Sergeant; Julie liked to have a memento from every trip.’
    In response to a glance from Rathbone, Penny asked, ‘How long have you been a widower, sir?’
    Ellerman frowned. ‘Is that relevant?’
    â€˜It might be,’ said Rathbone.
    Ellerman glanced at Pollard, who gave a slight shrug as if he too considered the question unimportant. ‘Just over six years,’ he said.
    â€˜Were you living in Sycamore Park at the time?’
    â€˜No. We had a house in North Bristol.’
    â€˜Was it your wife’s idea to buy the knife?’
    â€˜No, as it happens it was mine. I was intrigued by the workmanship. It was quite expensive, in fact, not the usual mass-produced junk.’
    â€˜And it has been in your display cabinet ever since your return from your trip to India?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜So why, when I showed you the photograph, did you deny recognizing it?’
    â€˜I . . . I didn’t want to risk the press finding out that I owned such a knife . . . I didn’t want the publicity.’
    â€˜Because you thought it might damage your chance of promotion?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Didn’t it occur to you that the simplest way to prove it wasn’t your knife was to invite us to see it for ourselves?’
    â€˜You might have thought I had more than one – people do sometimes buy these things in pairs.’ Ellerman clasped his hands together and thumped them against his chest in a sudden burst of emotion. ‘All right, I admit I lied . . . I suppose I panicked, but I swear to you I didn’t touch her. I only bought the one knife and it’s in my flat. Why don’t we go there now and I’ll show it to you?’
    â€˜Just what I was about to suggest.’ Rathbone switched off the tape recorder and stood up.
    â€˜It’s in here.’ Ellerman slid aside one of the glass doors of the wall-mounted display cabinet. He reached towards the back of the lower shelf and then withdrew his hand with a muttered expletive.
    â€˜What’s the problem, sir?’ asked Rathbone.
    â€˜It’s not here . . . the bloody thing’s gone! Some thieving bastard must have nicked it and used it to kill Fenella!’
    â€˜When did you last see it?’ asked Rathbone.
    â€˜How should I know? I walk past that cabinet every day without looking inside.’
    â€˜You haven’t shown it to anyone recently?’
    â€˜No. No one.’
    â€˜Who has been in your flat recently?’
    â€˜I don’t do much in the way of entertaining but . . . I suppose the last time was when I invited the committee for drinks the day after the residents’ association meeting. It gave the new members a chance to get to know each other, but the main reason was to settle the query about the accounts that was still outstanding.’
    â€˜That was when you had a rather public disagreement with Ms Tremaine?’
    â€˜That’s right. Needless to say, she wasn’t among the guests.’
    â€˜So it wasn’t purely a social gathering, sir?’
    â€˜Not entirely. As I’ve just said, there were a few points arising from the meeting that needed clearing up. Because of the disagreement the chairman ruled the matter be adjourned for further discussion and this was agreed on condition that residents would be advised of the decision as an appendix to the minutes of the meeting.’
    â€˜Can you remember everyone who came to your flat?’
    â€˜Of course.’ Ellerman opened a bureau and took out a note book. He scribbled some names, tore out a sheet and handed it to Rathbone.
    â€˜Thank you, sir.’ Rathbone handed the note to Penny. ‘Anyone else you can think of? Workmen for example? Do you have a cleaning lady?’
    Suddenly Ellerman snapped his fingers.