lift back with Alex on his bike, which I did. It wasn’t that long after they left. Maybe twenty minutes or half an hour. I shouldn’t have, I know. I didn’t have a helmet.’ She shot Kathy a guilty little smile.
‘When we got back it was about one. Dr Beamish-Newell doesn’t like staff coming into the main house after eleven in case it disturbs the patients, so Alex slept on our sofa and was gone the next morning before any of us were up. I never saw him again.’ Her eyes filled slowly with tears once more.
‘You didn’t go out with Mr Parsons, then, Rose? The two of you are engaged, aren’t you?’
‘Geoffrey’s doing an Estates Management degree course by correspondence, you know. He’s had a lot of assignments to do lately, and so he hasn’t been able to get out as much. He had to get one finished by Sunday evening, to catch the post first thing Monday. He doesn’t mind me going out with the girls when he’s so busy.’
‘So you didn’t see much of him on Sunday either?’
‘That’s right. As I told the other officer, we all had a lie-in on Sunday - it was about eleven before we were up and about. Two of the girls left to visit relatives for lunch, but Trudy and Geoffrey and I had an omelette together in our house about one-thirty. Geoffrey had had to spend half the morning getting one of the drains unblocked, and he was in a bit of a lather about getting his essay finished. He went back to get on with it soon after two, and I spent the afternoon doing some ironing and writing some letters. Geoffrey came over again at five-thirty, after he’d done his rounds like he does each evening. He said he’d just about finished his work, thank goodness. I cooked him a steak and he went back to finish off his assignment about seven. Trudy and I spent the rest of the evening in front of our TV.’
‘Rose, have you any inkling of what might have happened to Alex? How he came to be in the temple that night?’
She shook her head slowly, reaching for her tissue again. After a moment she got control of her sobbing and said quietly, ‘I just don’t understand it, I really don’t. He was a lovely man. Not the moody type. It must have happened very suddenly, his decision. Could he have got some terrible news from home, perhaps? From his family in Greece?’
‘We are trying to contact them. But why the temple? Did he ever express any interest in it?’
She shook her head. ‘Horrible place! A dreadful place to do such a thing! All alone in the dead of night, poor man.’
Kathy made her way back to the games room feeling deflated, empty of ideas. The teams had almost finished the last of the interviews and only two patients were left in the room, an elderly couple conferring with a woman constable on some point of memory. As she came into the room Kathy saw them look up, interrupted by a burst of laughter from a group of detectives nearby. From among them a man’s voice emerged, distinct and crude: ‘… and both of the old ladies are suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.’ The elderly couple exchanged a disapproving look as the voice continued. ‘They’re watching a dancing programme on the box, see, and one old dear says to the other, “Oh, ain’t that lovely. Do you remember the minuet?” and the other replies, “Gor blimey, no. I can’t even remember the men I faked.”‘
A look of horror spread across the faces of the elderly couple as the word sunk in. They struggled to their feet and scurried out of the room.
‘Terrific, Kenny,’ Kathy said, weary and angry. ‘Next time, tell it with actions.’ The group froze for a moment when they saw her face, then rapidly dispersed. Gordon came over to her. ‘Would you like some instant, Kathy?’ He sounded anxious. ‘We got ourselves an urn. You take milk and sugar?’
She sighed. ‘Just milk, Gordon. Then get everyone round here.’
He did as she told him, and then she began. ‘So, what happened to Petrou on Sunday evening? No one saw
‘When we got back it was about one. Dr Beamish-Newell doesn’t like staff coming into the main house after eleven in case it disturbs the patients, so Alex slept on our sofa and was gone the next morning before any of us were up. I never saw him again.’ Her eyes filled slowly with tears once more.
‘You didn’t go out with Mr Parsons, then, Rose? The two of you are engaged, aren’t you?’
‘Geoffrey’s doing an Estates Management degree course by correspondence, you know. He’s had a lot of assignments to do lately, and so he hasn’t been able to get out as much. He had to get one finished by Sunday evening, to catch the post first thing Monday. He doesn’t mind me going out with the girls when he’s so busy.’
‘So you didn’t see much of him on Sunday either?’
‘That’s right. As I told the other officer, we all had a lie-in on Sunday - it was about eleven before we were up and about. Two of the girls left to visit relatives for lunch, but Trudy and Geoffrey and I had an omelette together in our house about one-thirty. Geoffrey had had to spend half the morning getting one of the drains unblocked, and he was in a bit of a lather about getting his essay finished. He went back to get on with it soon after two, and I spent the afternoon doing some ironing and writing some letters. Geoffrey came over again at five-thirty, after he’d done his rounds like he does each evening. He said he’d just about finished his work, thank goodness. I cooked him a steak and he went back to finish off his assignment about seven. Trudy and I spent the rest of the evening in front of our TV.’
‘Rose, have you any inkling of what might have happened to Alex? How he came to be in the temple that night?’
She shook her head slowly, reaching for her tissue again. After a moment she got control of her sobbing and said quietly, ‘I just don’t understand it, I really don’t. He was a lovely man. Not the moody type. It must have happened very suddenly, his decision. Could he have got some terrible news from home, perhaps? From his family in Greece?’
‘We are trying to contact them. But why the temple? Did he ever express any interest in it?’
She shook her head. ‘Horrible place! A dreadful place to do such a thing! All alone in the dead of night, poor man.’
Kathy made her way back to the games room feeling deflated, empty of ideas. The teams had almost finished the last of the interviews and only two patients were left in the room, an elderly couple conferring with a woman constable on some point of memory. As she came into the room Kathy saw them look up, interrupted by a burst of laughter from a group of detectives nearby. From among them a man’s voice emerged, distinct and crude: ‘… and both of the old ladies are suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.’ The elderly couple exchanged a disapproving look as the voice continued. ‘They’re watching a dancing programme on the box, see, and one old dear says to the other, “Oh, ain’t that lovely. Do you remember the minuet?” and the other replies, “Gor blimey, no. I can’t even remember the men I faked.”‘
A look of horror spread across the faces of the elderly couple as the word sunk in. They struggled to their feet and scurried out of the room.
‘Terrific, Kenny,’ Kathy said, weary and angry. ‘Next time, tell it with actions.’ The group froze for a moment when they saw her face, then rapidly dispersed. Gordon came over to her. ‘Would you like some instant, Kathy?’ He sounded anxious. ‘We got ourselves an urn. You take milk and sugar?’
She sighed. ‘Just milk, Gordon. Then get everyone round here.’
He did as she told him, and then she began. ‘So, what happened to Petrou on Sunday evening? No one saw
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