‘It’s only getting worse,’ the doctor said.
‘What can you do?’
‘Keep him calm, but he’s a big man. We can’t have him blundering around.’
‘What’s your prognosis?’
‘There’s a heart problem. I give him three, maybe six months.’
‘Can he stay here?’
‘Under minor sedation, but there is the cost.’
‘I’ll manage.’ She knew that her DCI was attempting to get her made up to sergeant. The extra money would just about cover the additional cost.
Isaac reached home just as Jess was about to give up waiting. He noticed the early signs of packing. ‘It’s not easy when there is a murder to deal with,’ he said.
‘I realise that, but sometimes we both have to make an effort. If you want to play the field again, just let me know.’
‘I have responsibilities. You knew that before we got together.’
‘Even before you slept with Linda Harris.’
Isaac realised the futility of the situation. If he had not slept with the woman, then maybe a longer-term relationship with Jess would have been possible, but it clearly was not. ‘It was an error on my part,’ he said. ‘I can’t undo the past, but then I don’t think you can forget either.’
‘Maybe it’s best if we quit while we’re ahead,’ she said.
‘Maybe it is,’ he reluctantly agreed.
The meal stayed cold, the bottle of wine unopened. Jess slept on the sofa; Isaac on the bed. He could hear her sobbing, but there was nothing he could say or do. Tomorrow she would be gone. He had hoped it would end better. He was sorry it had not.
Chapter 7
Isaac woke early the next morning after a restless night. Jess had left, a note attesting to the fact on the kitchen table. She clearly stated that she would return during the day and remove her belongings. He sat down for a few minutes, shed a tear in sadness, his momentary remorse disturbed by a phone call.
‘We’ve only got one more person to find,’ Wendy said.
‘Where are you?’
‘In the office. Bridget and DI Hill are here as well.’
‘It’s only six.’
‘We agreed last night to meet at five in the morning.’
‘Your husband?’
‘Not good.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said.
‘And you, sir?’
‘The inevitable.’
‘I thought it was that, sir. I hope it wasn’t too unpleasant.’
‘It was.’
‘It helps to stay busy, keep the mind occupied.’
‘I’ll be in the office in twenty minutes.’
‘DI Hill and I will be out by then. Bridget will be here.’
‘Keep me posted.’
Twenty minutes later, as stated, Isaac arrived in the office. Bridget welcomed him with a cup of freshly-brewed coffee. He could see the motherly touch. Wendy had obviously told her the story.
‘Two of the three were easily confirmed on Facebook,’ Bridget said. ‘DI Hill contacted them. There’s only one left, and he seems a distinct possibility.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Isaac asked.
‘He would have been thirty-six in 1987.’
‘After 1987?’
‘There is no further record of him.’
‘Does this person have a name?’
‘Solly Michaels. You do understand the significance.’
‘Yes, it’s clear.’
‘Where are DI Hill and Wendy?’
‘They’ve gone to see Gertrude Richardson. Obtain a DNA sample, if she’s willing.’
‘And if she’s not?’ Isaac asked.
‘Difficult to force a woman in her late eighties, DCI.’
‘Almost impossible. We’ll deal with it if we come to that hurdle.’
***
Wendy thought it was too early to knock on the door in Richmond. Larry said it was too important to wait any longer. They rang the doorbell three times before the door slowly opened.
‘What do you want?’
‘There’s been a possible development.’
‘I’m feeding the cats. Come back later.’
‘It would be easier to deal with it now. There are questions to be asked.’
‘I sold the house. What more do you want?’
Wendy was concerned that the old woman would not hold up under questioning. She had considered bringing another policewoman skilled in dealing with a medical situation should it occur, but decided against it, as she knew the nature of the woman who confronted them at the door.
‘We need to talk to you about your husband.’
‘I’ve not seen him for a long time.’
‘We found him,’ Wendy said.
‘Come in,’ the old woman said. ‘We can talk in the room we used before.’ Wendy could see that the woman was disturbed by the revelation.
The same cat followed them into the room, sat on Larry Hill’s lap as before. This time, he did not intend to disturb the conversation by standing up to shake it off.
‘Is he dead?’ Gertrude Richardson asked.
‘I’m sorry, but he died of old age. You must have known.’
Wendy could see that Gertrude was close to tears. She moved over close and put her arm around the woman. Gertrude Richardson nestled her head into Wendy’s shoulder, appreciative of her compassion. ‘He was a lovely man. I never knew why he left, although he was always playing up.’
‘What did you do about it?’ Wendy asked.
‘Turned a blind eye. It was the way he was, but he always came back to me at night.’
‘How many years were you together?’
‘Eighteen years, on and off.’
‘On and off?’ Larry queried.
‘Sometimes I’d move out, sometimes he would, but it was a good marriage. Maybe unconventional, but we lived in London during the swinging sixties. A lot of promiscuity then, and we were both guilty. When did he die?’
‘Eight years ago, in Fulham.’
‘Did he marry again?’
‘Yes.’
‘We never got divorced.’
‘Bigamy?’
‘It’s a bit late to prosecute him now.’
‘Too late,’ Wendy said. ‘There’s another question I must ask. You will not like it.’
‘What is it?’
‘Did you have a child?’
‘Yes,’
