‘Not yet. We’re still waiting for the result of the autopsy.’
‘Sir, you’ve met Gordon Windsor?’ Larry asked.
‘He was over at Pathology. Forensics is inspecting the clothing.’
‘Any identification?’ Wendy asked.
‘Not yet, and it looks as though the clothing may yield no clues, other than an approximate date when it was purchased.’
‘Is 1987 a probable date?’
‘It appears to be around that time. Wendy, your update.’
‘Bridget found an address for Gertrude Richardson, one of the joint owners of the property before the Baxters bought it.’
‘Did they own it in the 80s?’ Isaac asked.
‘They purchased it in 1972, sold it three months ago,’ Bridget said.
‘Did they live in it around the time the body was placed in the fireplace?’
‘According to Mavis Richardson, she moved out in the 70s,’ Wendy said. ‘It’s best if I conclude my report first.’
‘Please do,’ Isaac said.
‘To reiterate, Bridget found an address for Gertrude Richardson in Richmond. It was a substantial house, mansion even, close to the park. I knocked on the front door. An old woman, later identified as Gertrude Richardson, came to the door. She was in a bad way.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She was unwashed, the house showed severe neglect, and it appears that she lives in the kitchen at the back, surrounded by numerous cats that smelt awful.’
‘What did she tell you?’
‘It’s what she didn’t say that’s important.’
‘That’s an ambiguous statement. What do you mean?’
‘She’s an embittered and reclusive woman who does not acknowledge that she has a sister.’
‘Senile?’
‘I don’t think so. More likely a family feud.’
‘What else did she say?’
‘She stated that she had not been in the house in Bellevue Street for over forty years.’
‘Did she give a reason?’
‘No, but I believe I know why. Eventually the woman acknowledged, somewhat reluctantly, that she had a sister, but had not seen her for over forty years.’
‘Dates coincide with Bellevue Street?’ Isaac asked.
‘I’ll address that in a minute. She explained that she had sold the house in Bellevue Street because she had no money. I asked her why she had not sold the mansion in Richmond as it was more valuable. She said she could not. She was not willing to elaborate. Besides, she cut me short and hustled me out of the door.’
‘And the sister?’ Isaac asked.
‘I’ll let DI Hill answer that question.’
‘Wendy had drawn a blank on the first address for Mavis O’Loughlin, the sister,’ Larry Hill said. ‘Bridget found another and I met up with Wendy at the address. A three-storey terrace opposite the park in Primrose Hill.
‘Wendy knocked on the door to no avail. I went around the back. A woman opened the back door and started quizzing me, assumed I was from the sister.’
‘Why would she do that? You showed her your badge?’
‘Eventually, when she calmed down. After that, she let Wendy in at the front, and I entered through the back door.’
‘A total opposite to the sister,’ Wendy said.
‘What do you mean?’ Isaac asked.
‘Mavis O’Loughlin, who has now reverted to her maiden name, is an elegant woman who keeps her house in pristine condition. Apart from the reason we were there, she was good company.’
‘What did she have to say?’
‘She has not spoken to her sister since 1976, or thereabouts, and has not seen her husband since then.’
‘Related or coincidental?’
‘Related. Mavis Richardson came home unexpectedly and found her husband in bed with her sister. She threw both of them out onto the street.’
‘And the sisters have not spoken since?’ Isaac asked.
‘That’s unclear. According to Mavis O’Loughlin, her sister had a tendency to become involved with the wrong type of men. Some of them had taken advantage and fleeced her for money. The debts incurred were covered by her sister, who gradually accumulated the properties under her name.’
‘She allows her sister to live in squalor, while she lives in luxury?’ Bridget asked.
‘I don’t think we can make that assumption. She forgave her sister for sleeping with her husband a week after the event, or at least, she said she did. Why the squalor, and now the animosity from both women, is unclear,’ Wendy said.
‘I suggest you find out as soon as possible,’ Isaac said. ‘Larry, can you assist?’
‘No problem. Can you update us when the pathologist’s report and forensics come through?’
‘Will do,’ Isaac said.
***
It was late at night, as Isaac drove home to the flat he shared with Jess, that he received the phone call that was to intensify the focus on the case. ‘It’s murder,’ Gordon Windsor said.
‘How?’ Isaac asked.
‘Signs of trauma, suffocation.’
‘Where are you?’
‘I’ve just driven over to the pathologist’s. I came as soon as he phoned me up with the news.’
It was unusual for the pathologist to work so late into the night, but this body was important. The media were hovering for information; a thirty-year-old corpse had raised their interest. And now, Sue Baxter had been selling the story to a Sunday newspaper; there, emblazoned on the front page, the photos she had taken. She had dutifully handed over the camera as requested by Larry Hill, kept the memory card for herself. Isaac realised that she could be trouble if she kept talking, and now with a clear murder, the media would be pressing her for more news.
‘I’ll be there as soon as possible,’ Isaac replied to Gordon Windsor. It was already close to ten in the evening, and Jess had made a special attempt to be at home for an intimate meal that night. Isaac phoned her to let her know that he was further delayed; she was not pleased.
Isaac had seen the signs before. How many times had someone moved in, fully understanding the challenges that a senior police officer in Homicide faced? How many times had
