“We handled the house purchase,” Courtney said, “and when the conveyance was completed we suggested a will. We often do. It’s not so much a matter of touting for business as making things easier. So many people die intestate, and you’ve no idea what complications that leads to if there is no immediate family. The house itself, for example. As far as I know, Mr Cotton wasn’t married, even under common law.”
“What was his reaction to your suggestion?”
“He said he’d think about it.”
“And he thought about it for two years?”
“It would appear so, yes. If you don’t mind my asking, Chief Inspector, why all this interest in his reason for making a will? People do, you know.”
“It’s the timing, that’s all. I was just wondering why then rather than any other time.”
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“Hmmm. I imagine that’s the kind of thing you people have to think about. Are you interested in the contents at all?”
“Of course.”
Courtney unfolded the paper fully, peered at it, then put it aside again and hooked his thumbs in his braces. “Not much to it, really,” he said. “He left the house and what little money he had-somewhere in the region of two thousand pounds, I believe, though you’ll have to check with the bank-to one Mara Delacey.”
“Mara? And that’s it?”
“Not quite. Oddly enough he added a codicil just a few months ago. Shortly before Christmas, in fact. It doesn’t affect the original bequest, but merely specifies that all materials, monies and goodwill relating to his carpentry business be left to Paul Boyd, in the hope that he uses them wisely.”
“Bloody hell!”
“Is something wrong?”
“It’s nothing. Sorry. Mind if I smoke?”
“If you must.” Courtney took a clean ashtray from his drawer and pushed it disapprovingly towards Banks. Undeterred, Banks lit up.
“The way I see things, then,” Banks said, “is that he left the house and the money to Mara after he’d only known her for a year or so, and the carpentry business to Paul after the kid had only been at the farm for a couple of months.”
“If you say so, Chief Inspector. It would indicate that Mr Cotton was quick to trust people.”
“It would indeed. Or that there was nobody else he could even consider. I doubt that he’d have wanted his goods and chattels to go to the state. But who knows where Boyd might have got to by the time Cotton died of natural causes? Or Mara.
Could he have had some idea that he was in danger?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” Courtney said. “Our business ends with the legal formalities, and Mr Cotton certainly made no mention of an imminent demise. If there’s anything else I can help you with, of course, I’d be more than willing.”
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“Thank you,” said Banks. “I think that’s all. Will you be informing Mara Delacey?”
“We will take steps to get in touch with beneficiaries in due course, yes.”
“Is it all right if I tell her this afternoon?”
“I can’t see any objection. And you might ask her-both of them, if possible-to drop by the office. I’ll be happy to explain the procedure to them. If you have any trouble with the bank, Chief Inspector, please refer them to me. It’s the National Westminster-or NatWest, as I believe they call themselves these days-the branch in the market square. The manager is a most valued client.”
“I know the place.” Know it, Banks thought, I practically stare at it for hours on end every day.
“Then goodbye, Chief Inspector. It’s been a pleasure.”
Banks walked out into the street more confused than ever. Before he got back to the station, however, he’d managed to put some check on his wild imaginings. The will probably didn’t come into the case at all. Seth Cotton had simply had more foresight than many would have credited him with. What was wrong with that? And it was perfectly natural that, with his parents both dead and no close family, he would leave the house to Mara. And Paul Boyd was, after all, his apprentice.
It was a gesture of faith and confidence on Seth’s part.
Even if Mara and Paul had known what they had coming to them, neither, Banks was positive, would have murdered Seth to get it. Life for Mara was clearly better with Seth than without him, and whatever ugliness might be lurking in Boyd’s character, he was neither stupid nor petty enough to kill for a set of carpenter’s tools. So forget the will, Banks told himself. Nice gesture though it was, it is irrelevant. Except, perhaps, for the date. Why wait till two years after Courtney had suggested it before actually getting the business done?
Procrastination?
It also raised a more serious question: had Seth felt that his life was in danger a year ago? If so, why had it taken so long for the danger to manifest itself? And had that fear somehow also renewed itself around Christmas time?
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Before returning to his office, he nipped into the National Westminster and had no problem in getting details of
