13

Geraldine frowned. The scrap of handwriting in Mark’s suicide note being too small to yield any information, Geraldine’s next task had been to investigate the rope from which Mark had been suspended. By contrast to the report on the suicide note, the forensic report on that was very detailed. The rope had been brand new, a traditional flexible three strand Manila rope marketed for decorative use in gardens, but easily strong enough to hold a man’s weight. Geraldine checked through Mark’s credit card statements for the past year, but there were no purchases from any garden centre or DIY store that might have included payment for a length of rope. If she had been able to prove Mark had bought the rope himself that might have been suggestive, although not conclusive. The fact that she found no trace of any relevant transaction proved nothing. Had he been planning to hang himself, he could easily have paid cash for the rope.

Remembering that Charlotte had summoned help when she had discovered her husband’s body, Geraldine had called at the widow’s house once more, and asked for her gardener’s phone number. On the doorstep, Charlotte replied that Mark used to deal with him. She had no idea where to find his contact details.

‘Can you remember what your husband called him?’

‘His name’s Will. That’s all I know about him. I’ve no idea where he lives or what his other name is.’ She started to close the door.

Geraldine stepped forward and asked to see Mark’s mobile phone. Not sure whether she still had it, Charlotte left Geraldine waiting impatiently outside while she went to look for it. At last the front door reopened and Charlotte appeared, clutching a smartphone.

‘I don’t know his passcode,’ she said. ‘He never told me what it was. But here’s the phone, if it’s any use to you.’

She thrust the phone at Geraldine and slammed the door before Geraldine had a chance to thank her. She wanted the number of someone called Will, or possibly ‘gardener’. She was soon back at the police station and within a few minutes one of the technical officers had unlocked the phone and given her a mobile number listed under the name Will. After thanking the technician, she returned to her desk and checked for any calls or messages between Mark and his gardener. There was a text from Mark which had been sent a week before his death, saying: ‘Same time next week?’ and a response from Will that had been received an hour later: ‘OK’. That was all.

Geraldine called the number.

‘Is that Will?’

‘Yeah, this is Will. But – is that Mark’s wife calling?’

There was a pause after Geraldine announced herself. She was afraid Will was going to hang up, but instead he asked her what she wanted.

‘I’d like to come and speak to you about Mark. Are you able to give me a moment?’

‘What do you want to know?’

When Geraldine asked to meet him, he told her he was very busy. ‘I’ve got a big job just started,’ he added apologetically.

‘This won’t take long,’ she assured him. ‘I need to speak to you about the incident you witnessed recently.’

‘You mean the hanging?’

‘Yes.’

‘You can ask me anything you like.’

Aware that people’s faces sometimes revealed more than their words, Geraldine didn’t want to question him over the phone. When he refused to meet her, she hinted that he would have to come and speak to her at the police station if he wouldn’t tell her where she could find him. People usually capitulated when threatened with the prospect of having to visit the police station but he repeated that he didn’t have time, and she hesitated to insist in case he became uncooperative.

‘I know this can’t be easy for you,’ she said gently, ‘but I want to ask you about Mark Abbott.’

‘I barely knew the guy. I just did some digging for him. He liked to fiddle about in his garden, but digging over is physical. So he called me in to do the heavy work. That’s all it was.’

‘How long have you been working for him?’

‘I’ve been there a few times. I don’t keep count. It’s just –’ he hesitated, ‘just casual like. I only make a few bob here and there.’ He paused. ‘It’s more of a favour, really, because I don’t get much more than money for a few beers out of it. Nothing to write home about.’

Geraldine understood that he didn’t want to admit his undeclared earnings. Quickly she reassured him that her questions had nothing to do with him or his income.

‘Did you know Mrs Abbott?’

‘You said it was Mark you wanted to ask about,’ he growled, becoming surly. ‘I don’t know his wife and I didn’t know him. There’s nothing more to say. All I do is dig over his garden and see to the weeds and that. I just happened to be there when his wife found him. I don’t know what you want me to say. What was I supposed to do? I just tried to help the poor woman.’

‘We’re investigating the possibility that he was murdered.’

‘Oh. Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But I didn’t know him and I can’t help you. I thought he topped himself.’

‘We’re looking into the possibility that he was murdered and his death was set up to look like suicide. It’s tricky to investigate now, as the scene of the crime has been cleaned up. His widow had the hallway redecorated as soon as her husband was buried. But you were there when he was cut down, weren’t you?’

Will didn’t answer straight away. She did her best to reassure him that she only wanted to find out what he could tell her about the discovery of Mark’s body hanging in the hall.

‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’

‘Can you describe what you saw?’

‘She came running out into the garden, flapping about, and screeching at me to get him down…’ He paused and cleared his throat. ‘He was just hanging there, dead. It wasn’t… it didn’t seem real. It was horrible.’

‘How did you know he was dead?’

‘His face was all – swollen and dark. I was holding him up, just to support him, you know, although I knew he was a goner, and I tried to get the rope off his neck, but it was way too tight. I couldn’t get my fingers inside it. Anyway, I tried, but there was no way I could get him down on my own and she was screaming and yabbering at me and I was yelling at her to get an ambulance and then your lot turned up and that was it. They asked me a few questions and said I was free to go. They never said anything about having to answer more questions,’ he added, surly again.

However hard she tried, Geraldine couldn’t prise any more information out of him.

‘I told you all I know,’ he insisted.

Geraldine reread the report that had been filed at the time Mark’s death had been logged. It bore out what little Will had told her. There was nothing more to be gained from questioning him or Charlotte again about Mark’s death. She had spoken to everyone who might have been able to shed light on the suicide, without learning anything new.