‘Fine, fine. What is it ye want exactly?’
‘It concerns your daughter’s estate, Sheena.’
‘Estate?’ She looked dubious.
‘Her property, her assets, that will come to you, as her next of kin.’
‘What, like an insurance payout?’ she said hopefully.
‘I’m not aware of any insurance, but it’s possible, I suppose.’
‘Och, well, what about compensation, victims of crime? I’m a victim too, you know.’
‘Again, I don’t know about that. What I have in mind is potentially much more significant.’
There was a roar from the doorway. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ Keith Rafferty stood with a towel around his waist, skin pink from the shower, eyes blazing. ‘I’m calling my lawyer right now.’
‘No, hang on, darlin’,’ Sheena said quickly. ‘The inspector’s come to see me, about Marion’s assets.’
He hesitated. ‘What assets?’
‘She’s just about to tell me, is that no’ right, Inspector?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, go on then,’ Keith said.
‘This is a private matter I have to discuss with Marion’s mother, Mr Rafferty. I’m well aware of your lawyer’s insistence that I should have no further contact with you, and I don’t feel comfortable having you present. Maybe I should speak to you another time, Sheena, when you’re alone.’
‘Now wait a minute.’ Keith stuck his jaw out. ‘If you’ve got anything to say to my wife I want to hear it.’
Kathy shook her head and rose to her feet.
‘Sheena!’ Keith snapped. ‘Tell her you want it that way.’
Sheena winced under his glare and nodded. ‘Aye. I want Keith to hear.’
‘Well, if you’re quite sure. This is only an advisory visit, you understand, to make you aware of a potential situation that could concern you.’
‘What?’ Sheena looked mystified, Keith aggrieved.
‘Get on with it,’ he snarled.
‘Are you aware that Marion owned a house?’
Sheena’s eyes widened. ‘What sort of house?’
‘A very attractive detached property, in Hampstead.’ Kathy turned to meet Keith’s eyes. He looked away.
‘Hampstead? Owned it, you say?’
‘That’s right. It’s in her name alone, no mortgage.’
‘But… how much would that be worth, then?’
‘Quite a lot. Three-quarters of a million, at least.’
Sheena gasped. ‘But how? Marion was a student. She had no money.’
‘No, but she had an admirer, a wealthy man who bought it for her, as a present.’
‘Oh my dear Lord! My wee Marion? Who is he, this feller?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t disclose that.’
Kathy felt Keith’s eyes on her, burning, trying to work out what she was up to.
‘Oh!’ Sheena gave a sudden trilling giggle, jumping to her feet. ‘Did ye hear that, Keithy?! Did ye hear that?’
‘Yeah. So what’s the catch?’
‘Yes,’ Kathy said, ‘I’m afraid there is a catch. Marion signed a document giving the house back to this man in the event of her death.’
‘Oh…’ Sheena collapsed again onto her chair, horror on her face.
‘But,’ Kathy went on, ‘and this is the reason for my coming to speak to you, that may depend on the results of our investigation into Marion’s death.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, you see, this man is naturally a person of interest to us, having been so much involved in Marion’s recent life. And if it should turn out that he was responsible for her death, well, the courts might decide to set aside that document, as amounting to the profits of a crime.’
There was silence for a moment. Then Keith said softly, ‘But is that likely? Do you suspect this man?’
‘I’m not at liberty to say, Mr Rafferty. The case is still wide open at this stage, and we’re sifting through a great deal of evidence. I just thought I should alert Mrs Rafferty to the fact that if we were to lay charges against him at some point in the future, then she should consider seeking legal advice. Three-quarters of a million pounds is a great deal of money.’
‘Aye,’ Sheena said dazedly. ‘It sure as hell is that.’ twenty-seven
B rock dropped the report into his out-tray and sat back with a sigh, rubbing both hands across his face. It was all very well giving advice and direction to Kathy and the others, but he had learned to doubt such advice when it came from senior figures who hadn’t actually touched the evidence for themselves, hadn’t heard the subtle doubt in the witness’s voice, had forgotten how contradictory and confusing the options were. Alex Nicholson’s suggestion that they might be investigating a double suicide had already occurred to him. Tina’s death seemed like a mirror image of Marion’s, following Marion’s example, perhaps even fulfilling a pact of some kind between them. Kathy had known Tina, and Brock had sensed her sympathy for the student and her scepticism of Alex’s idea, just as she had resisted from the start the possibility of Marion’s suicide. He suspected that Kathy identified with Marion’s struggle, and with Tina’s, too closely for that.
But what did he know, stuck behind his bloody desk reading other people’s reports? And then there was that disconcerting thing, the sudden appearance of Douglas Warrender on the scene, immediately after Brock had reassured Suzanne that he wasn’t involved. Had Suzanne heard something? He wanted to talk it over with her, but that would only complicate things further, and probably put her in a compromising position.
He heaved himself out of his chair and reached for his overcoat. ‘I’m going up to the British Library to see how they’re getting on,’ he said to Dot as he strode through her office.
‘The new HR Deputy Liaison Officer is coming to see you in an hour, don’t forget.’
‘Put him off. Urgent business.’
Just getting out of the office lifted his spirits. When he reached the forecourt of the library he paused and took it in once again, peaceful now, the police tapes gone, tourists mingling with students and researchers, people cheerfully drinking coffee in The Last Word cafe. He went across to the library entrance beneath the lowering roof planes, catching a glimpse of the towers and finials of St Pancras station next door. At the enquiries counter inside he showed his ID and was directed to an office in the administrative area nearby. There he found Pip Gallagher bent over a pile of books. She jumped up when he greeted her, looking guilty, like a school student caught falling asleep over her homework.
‘They’ve given me this table and they’re bringing me the books that Tina asked for in the past couple of weeks, Chief. I’m trying to make notes for Kathy.’ She gestured at a clipboard on which she had laboriously written comments beneath the titles of each volume.
‘Big job,’ Brock said.
‘Yeah.’ Pip sighed. ‘I’m not sure if I’m doing it right. Kathy wants to establish some kind of logical trail that Tina followed, leading up to the diary that undermines da Silva’s work. I’ve got the borrowing or request records for both Marion and Tina at all the libraries we know they went to-that’s the British Library here, the London Library where Marion collapsed, the National Archives at Kew, the Family Records Centre in Finsbury, and the University of London Senate House Library.’
She spread the printouts over the table, and Brock immediately understood why she was looking so glum.
‘Lot of books,’ he murmured.
‘Yes. I’ve started with Tina’s lists, putting them in date order, and starting at the beginning.’
‘Makes sense.’
‘I wondered if she might have left any notes in the books, or written anything in the margins. No luck so far. Basically I’m trying to write a short description of each book, so Kathy can get an idea of what they’re about.’
‘And you started here because…?’
‘Well, Tina was attacked here, and also she spent most time here recently. She wasn’t a member of the
