‘Sally Jenkins was not assassinated,’ Isaac said.
Isaac recounted the phone conversation with Linda Harris.
Goddard listened calmly. ‘How do we handle this?’ he asked.
‘It’s clear that Richard Williams knew, as did Sally Jenkins.’
‘Can we prove that Sally Jenkins was murdered by Richard Williams?’
‘The evidence is circumstantial. We’ll never be able to prove it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Richard Williams had been in Sally Jenkins’ place on many occasions. His DNA, fingerprints are everywhere. There’s nothing conclusively tying him to the night of her death,’ Isaac said.
‘Apart from Linda Harris.’ Richard Goddard realised, as did Isaac, that she was not going to come forward to point the blame at Williams. ‘So how do we record it?’
‘Crime unsolved, I suppose.’
‘What about Richard Williams?’
‘It appears to be a professional assassination. It doesn’t make sense. Williams kills to keep the secret, and then he is shot because he knows it.’
‘It’s clear that he was not about to reveal it.’
‘If Marjorie Frobisher had been liquidated, he may have.’
‘Are we saying that she’s safe now?’
‘She still knows who this person is.’
‘Will she tell?’
‘Probably not.’
‘She’s still a target.’ Richard Goddard stated the obvious.
***
An austere, wood-panelled office in the Houses of Parliament in Westminster; a meeting between two powerful men.
‘Angus, have we dealt with all the loose ends?’
‘Not yet. The woman remains alive.’
‘And the child?’
‘He continues to search for his parents.’
‘What proof do we have that he does not know the truth?’
‘If he knew, he would exercise his right to the peerage; his right to your title.’
‘On my death?’
‘He would have no issue with ensuring you had a convenient accident.’
‘You know what to do.’
‘I will ensure the instruction is carried out immediately.’
‘She could still talk,’ the father said.
‘Her current behaviour indicates that possibility.’
‘Angus, deal with this, and your elevation to the peerage is guaranteed.’
***
Two weeks had passed since Christy Nichols had been charged with the murder of Charles Sutherland. Sally Jenkins’ death had been put on the back burner.
Richard Williams’ death still occupied Farhan and Isaac’s time, but only minimally. Apart from the occasional discussion, there had been no further developments.
Linda Harris’s phone call, the only time she had contacted. Isaac was certain that he would not hear from her again.
Marjorie Frobisher, no longer in hiding, apparently no longer in fear of her life, was out and about, on the talk shows, in the magazines. Isaac found her a tiring woman, and he kept his conversations with her to a minimum. It was clear that the knowledge she had was not going to be revealed.
Farhan had met Aisha on several occasions, slept with her on some. The romance seemed solid, but without the constant pressure of a murder investigation that had dragged on for too long, he had begun to re-evaluate his life.
He loved her but was it a love that he could jeopardise his life and his career for? How much of it was genuine emotion? How much of it was the sexual awakening for him with a liberated woman? He realised that time would lessen the intensity for him and for her. With no further media scrutiny, her secret seemed to be safe.
Isaac had met up with Jess, although most times they planned to meet, she was too busy with her newly elevated position.
***
The accident occurred at exactly ten minutes past four in the afternoon. Widely reported, it marked another event in the turbulent life of Marjorie Frobisher.
As she left the restaurant in Sloane Street, Chelsea, apparently the worse for wear after a few too many drinks, she had inadvertently stepped in front of a taxi.
The verdict, after a short court case – the taxi driver had been charged with manslaughter – was recorded as accidental death. The defendant received a suspended sentence. It occupied the newspapers for a few weeks until the public tired of the accusation that the case was a whitewash.
Angus MacTavish duly reported to his superior. ‘It has been resolved.’
Deputy Prime Minister James Alsworthy was delighted. Invariably referred to as ‘His Lordship’ due to his aristocratic manner, he had renounced his hereditary peerage so he could sit in the House of Commons. He would reclaim it when he tired of politics.
The former Benjamin Marshall, the adopted son of an influential family in the north of England, would never know. As Ibrahim Ali, an Islamic Jihadist convert, and the most vocal, most eloquent promoter of the movement for the introduction of Sharia in England, he had within his grasp the title of Lord Alsworthy, a seat in the House of Lords, and a fortune valued conservatively at fifty million pounds. An impassioned orator, the son of Marjorie Frobisher and James Alsworthy could not be given the prominence that the House of Lords would allow him, nor the opportunity to promote his cause.
The End
Murder House
PHILLIP STRANG
Chapter 1
Number 54 Bellevue Street was a good address. At least, it was to Trevor and Sue Baxter. They had come down to London after a transfer from Trevor’s company up north in Manchester. Trevor specialised in corporate taxation; his wife Sue, a qualified teacher, saw no problems in her finding another position in London.
They both knew it would not have been possible to purchase such a house in Manchester, but in London there was the salary and the company offer of a low-interest loan for five years while Trevor Baxter established himself. The house, three storeys, built during the reign of Queen Victoria, excited them enormously, even if it needed renovating. It had
