Bridget wanted to say something. Isaac waved his hand at her, a gesture to keep quiet for the moment. Wendy had questions to ask, but she knew Isaac’s style. He was a team player who did not steal someone’s thunder when they were on a roll.
Larry continued after taking a quick sip of his coffee. ‘Garry Solomon is here in London, a petty villain. There’s a fortune to be had, yet he decides not to come forward to claim any of it.’
‘What about the antagonism from Mavis Richardson?’ Wendy asked.
‘What about it?’ Larry replied. ‘Garry Solomon was a villain, and by all accounts a nasty piece of work. Do you think he would care who he upset?’
‘Probably not, and then there is his mother. Why didn’t he contact her at least a few times over the years?’
‘Maybe he did, but we’ll never know now as both mother and son are dead,’ Isaac said.
‘I’ve obtained his full criminal record. It may help to fill in some of the blanks,’ Bridget said.
‘Great,’ Larry said. ‘Let me finish first.’
‘It looks as if we’re in for a long night. Do I need to phone for some food?’ Isaac asked.
Bridget and Wendy were quick to raise their hands. Isaac knew his keep fit regime was to suffer. Jess had left a message, wanting to meet up. He quickly sent her a message stating that he was busy until ten that night. Her reply was curt.
Larry took the floor again. He stood up and leant against the wall. ‘We know he’s a villain, but why does he end up dead in a fireplace? The address would indicate that his murder was committed by someone he knew, someone who had access to the house.’
‘But why?’ Isaac asked. ‘Hiding a body in a fireplace, hoping it would not be disturbed, makes no sense.’
‘It must have been temporary, and for some reason the person never returned.’
‘It still makes no sense,’ Wendy said. ‘If you intend to hide a body for a short period, there must be better places than the house.’
‘Do we know where he was murdered?’ Bridget asked.
‘Good question,’ Isaac said. ‘The assumption is that it was in the house, but that’s not been confirmed. After thirty years, it may be difficult to ascertain.’
‘The crime scene examiner, what did he say?’ Wendy asked.
‘Not his call. He checked the body, and then handed it over to his crime scene investigators.’
‘There are still another few variables,’ Larry said. ‘If Garry Solomon did not contact his mother, what about his father?’
‘Another dead witness,’ Isaac said.
‘But his wife, or should I say his bigamous wife, is still alive,’ Wendy said. ‘I’ll go out there tomorrow.’
‘If somehow Garry Solomon had managed to avoid any contact with his parents, then why does he appear all of a sudden, only to be murdered?’ Larry asked.
‘Larry’s right,’ Isaac said. ‘All those years, and not once has he contacted his parents. It seems unlikely that he had not seen his father. They both moved in the same area of London.’
‘Their lawyer appears suspect,’ Larry said.
‘That’s my thought,’ Isaac replied. ‘He said that there was a secret, and if the body tied in with the sisters, he would reveal it to me.’
‘Now’s the time, sir,’ Wendy said.
The pizzas had arrived, and everyone was eating. Isaac had promised himself to keep it down to two slices, although he snuck in a third.
‘Garry Solomon is murdered for a reason. Asking for money hardly seems sufficient,’ Larry said.
‘Montague Grenfell is the key to this,’ Isaac said.
‘I’ll go out and see the grieving sister tomorrow,’ Larry said. ‘She must know something.’
‘I’ll meet Michael Solomon’s widow.’ Wendy reiterated her earlier statement.
‘Bridget, can you check out Garry Solomon’s movements over the missing years? See if there is anything of interest,’ Isaac said.
‘And you, sir?’ Wendy asked.
‘Montague St John Grenfell is going to give me some answers tomorrow, Earl Grey tea or no Earl Grey tea. I remain convinced that he knows something. The dead man had found out something which was dynamite. It was what got him killed. Grenfell must know something, although we must not discount Mavis Richardson.’
At eleven in the evening, the meeting concluded. Isaac sent an SMS to Jess. She sent one back to tell him it was too late, and she would talk to him another time.
Isaac went home to a cold bed and a hot drink, which was not how he liked his day to conclude.
At nine o’clock the next morning, Isaac made the climb up to Montague Grenfell’s office. He had managed to have an early morning jog, and this time he ran up the stairs.
Grenfell had not been expecting a visit from the DCI. He did not seem pleased to see him.
‘Sad business about Gertrude,’ Grenfell said.
‘Why was her son murdered?’ Isaac asked. He was not in the mood for procrastination. It was clear that the shock of Gertrude Richardson seeing her son no more than a mummified shell, manifestly unrecognisable except to a mother, had been the reason for her death.
‘I don’t know.’ Montague Grenfell, as usual, prepared tea. Isaac was aware that the man was hiding a secret. A secret that had remained hidden, unspoken, for many years. With Garry Solomon’s identity confirmed and his murder proved, the secret needed to be revealed.
‘We can do this down at Challis Street Police Station if that would help you to give me a straight answer.’ Grenfell was perturbed by the change in the policeman’s manner.
Grenfell had relaxed back in his chair, looking up into the air, resisting the need to make eye contact with Isaac. ‘Neither of the two women had any other children,’ he
