‘It’s Bert’s cat,’ she explained. ‘I’m keeping an eye on her for him.’
She led them into the kitchen, her dress swinging about her legs as she marched on. ‘Stop eating, Harold,’ she called into the kitchen as they passed. ‘The police are here. They need to talk to us.’
Karen peered into the kitchen and saw a balding man wearing spectacles, trying to stuff the last remnants of a sandwich into his mouth.
‘Apologies,’ he spluttered, trying to talk with his mouth full.
Maud led them into the front room. It was a compact little living room, with a large three-piece suite arranged around an open fireplace that was unlit but decorated with dried flowers.
‘Please, take a seat,’ she said formally, pointing to the armchairs.
Karen and DI Morgan both sat down and accepted her offer of a cup of tea.
She bustled off to the kitchen, and her husband shyly walked into the room. He gave them a small smile and shuffled from foot to foot, as though not quite sure what to do next.
‘Thank you for talking to us today, Mr Kennedy.’
‘Oh, no trouble at all. Such a terrible business. Poor old Bert. Do you know if he’s going to pull through?’
‘I’m afraid we haven’t been updated on his condition yet,’ Karen said. ‘I do know he was taken straight to Lincoln County Hospital.’
The man blew out a long breath through pursed lips, making a whistling sound. ‘I feared something like this might happen. He’s been living on his own for far too long, and the stairs in these properties are so steep. All it takes is one missed footstep, and there you go.’ He slapped his hands together, making Karen jump.
‘How long has Albert lived on his own?’ DI Morgan asked.
‘Oh, years. His wife died about ten years ago, and since then it’s just been Bert. He does well, though. He maintains that garden all on his own.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I suppose even if he does get better he won’t be able to move back here. The house will be too much for him, let alone the garden. I suppose it happens to us all in the end.’
Maud walked back into the room carrying a tea tray, and she looked sharply at her husband. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, do sit down. You’re making the place look untidy.’
‘Yes, dear,’ he said meekly, and perched on the edge of the sofa.
Maud set the tray down on the small coffee table and began to pour the tea. She handed a cup to Karen first, then DI Morgan.
‘So, how can we help you?’ Maud asked.
‘I believe you were the one who phoned the emergency services this morning?’ DI Morgan said.
Maud inclined her head. ‘That’s right. I do my knitting in that chair there.’ She pointed to a wingback chair beside the window. ‘Every morning, come rain or shine, Bert gets on his bike and cycles to the local shop. It’s about a mile and a half away, and he’s a little doddery these days, so I do like to keep an eye out to make sure he gets back okay. But this morning, he didn’t even set off. I thought perhaps he was ill, so I decided to go and check on him. He didn’t answer the front door, so I walked around the back, and that’s when I thought I heard him moaning. Honestly, I was terrified it was too late. But the ambulance rushed off with him, and I took that as a good sign. They wouldn’t have been in such a hurry if they thought he couldn’t make it, would they?’
‘I’m sure the paramedics did everything they could for Albert,’ Karen said. ‘I think he’ll be very thankful when he recovers.’
‘I do hope he’s okay. He’s a good neighbour, and we’ve lived opposite him for twenty years. He doesn’t socialise really but always says good morning, and he gives me some of his apples in September so I can make him an apple pie.’ Maud blinked, and sniffed loudly.
‘We were just asking your husband about Albert’s wife,’ Karen said.
‘She died over ten years ago. Bert was devastated – he didn’t want to leave the house even though there are some lovely bungalows in Skellingthorpe now that would be more suitable, but he said he didn’t want to leave his home. It had so many good memories for him, you see.’
Karen took a sip of the hot tea. She suspected Albert had more reasons for staying at the property than he’d let on. The major one being the dead body he’d stashed in a suitcase. But she could understand Albert’s reluctance to leave his memories behind, too. After her husband and daughter had passed away, she hadn’t wanted to leave their family home. Karen couldn’t imagine leaving the house where they’d shared so many times together.
‘What was Albert’s wife’s name?’ DI Morgan asked.
‘Veronica,’ Maud said.
‘Did Albert and Veronica have any children?’
Maud shook her head. ‘No, they didn’t have children of their own. Bert was the head of the local secondary school for a while. It’s called the Academy now, but in his day, it was Greenhill Secondary School. He liked to joke he had enough children in his life, with his job.’ Maud smiled.
DI Morgan and Karen asked a few more questions, trying to get an idea of the type of man Albert Johnson was, but according to the Kennedys, Albert had been a very ordinary old man. He enjoyed gardening and reading, and had been an upstanding member of the community for years.
‘I must say,’ Maud commented with a smile, ‘it’s refreshing to find the police so interested in a case like this. So often you read about the police not caring anymore.’
‘You don’t think it was anything other than an accident, do you?’ Harold said suddenly.
Karen had almost forgotten he was sitting there. She shook her head. ‘There were no signs of a break-in. But we like to be thorough and look into things, just to be on the safe side.’
‘Honestly, what a question! We appreciate everything you do, officer. Thank you very much,’ Maud said, shooting a disparaging look at her husband.
When they got back into the fleet vehicle, DI Morgan said he’d drive, giving Karen the chance to phone the station and catch up with Rick. She gave him a quick update.
‘We’ve spoken to the neighbours, and by all accounts Albert Johnson was a well-respected man. He used to be the headmaster at Greenhill Secondary School, and his wife, Veronica, died of natural causes ten years ago. I’d like you to look up the death certificate on that though, Rick.’
‘Already done it, Sarge, and I have an electronic copy. It all looks above board. And records show his wife was cremated.’
‘Right, so the body in the suitcase isn’t her.’
‘Doesn’t look like it. Is it true the body was wrapped up like a mummy?’
Karen frowned. ‘Who told you that?’ Police stations were terrible places for spreading unreliable gossip and rumours.
‘I just went to get a sandwich from the canteen, and a group of officers were talking about it.’
‘Well, it’s not a mummy. The body is probably decades old, but it’s mostly skeletal. There are a few clothing fragments, hair and some leathery skin remaining, but that’s about it. There are no mummy wrappings, that’s for sure. Now, can you dig up more information on Albert Johnson, particularly focusing on what he was doing twenty to forty years ago?’