‘Yes, Mavis Richardson.’
It was evident to Isaac that Montague Grenfell would remain a hostile witness, only willing to give the truth when asked directly.
‘Would Garry Solomon’s widow be eligible to inherit Gertrude Richardson’s assets?’ Isaac asked.
‘And her debts.’
‘You are aware that his wife uses the name of Emma Hampshire?’
‘Yes.’
‘Which means that you are aware of the movements of Garry Solomon, the two prison terms, the convictions for drug trafficking.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why are we spending the time to find out when you could have supplied us with that information?’
‘If you ask, I will answer. Otherwise, what I know remains secret.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Isaac said.
‘No offence, but you are not of aristocratic birth.’
Regardless of Grenfell’s statement, Isaac saw it as a slur on his good character and that of his parents.
‘Let us come back to Garry Solomon.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘You are aware that he and Emily Solomon were married legally in England?’
‘Yes.’
‘You denied any knowledge of it on a previous occasion.’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you aware that you may well have committed a criminal offence by your persistent lies?’
‘I am well aware of the law.’
‘Was Garry Solomon murdered because of something he knew?’
‘Why ask me? I am the family lawyer, not his murderer.’
‘Could they be one and the same?’ Isaac knew he was baiting the man, attempting to get more from him than a curt reply.
‘Repeat that in public and I will sue you for slander.’
‘Judging by the way in which the body was concealed, there are only three people capable of committing the murder, or at least hiding the body in the fireplace: you, Michael Solomon, and Ger O’Loughlin.’
‘From what I’ve been told, the construction around the fireplace was substantial,’ Grenfell said.
‘It would have required someone with the skill to build and the strength to put it in place,’ Isaac said.
‘That rules me out. I’ve only got the one leg, and as for handyman skills, I can barely change a light bulb.’
‘What about Michael Solomon?’
‘It’s possible. He was certainly strong enough, although I never saw him do anything practical around the house.’
‘Ger O’Loughlin?’
‘He could have done it, but why? He had nothing to gain by Garry’s death, and besides, he’s long gone.’
‘And you know where he is?’
‘Mavis does.’
‘And you?’
‘Yes.’
‘We need the address.’
‘I’ll send it to you.’
Isaac concluded the interview, knowing full well that yet again Montague Grenfell had not been forthcoming with the truth.
***
‘I need you to visit Ger O’Loughlin,’ Isaac said.
Normally, Wendy would have been delighted with a trip out of London, but her husband was worrying her greatly. The doctor was giving him just four to five weeks, and now she was off to Ireland. Still, she couldn’t refuse as it was her job, and her promotion to sergeant was soon to be confirmed. For once, the expense account and the ability to use it did not excite her, but, as always, she would do her duty.
A flight was booked with British Airways at eight the next morning. Wendy’s eldest son offered to come over to the house to feed the two cats, and to visit his father every day.
Arriving in Dublin, she picked up a hire car at the airport. The address for O’Loughlin was recent, and she had no difficulty finding him. She had even phoned in advance, and informed the Irish police, the Garda, that she was coming. It was a formality, and as no arrests were to be made, she was free to question O’Loughlin on her own.
Any extraditions and they would be involved, but that looked unlikely, as when she had phoned the previous day, the phone had been answered by a softly-spoken woman with a distinctive Irish accent. ‘My father is dying,’ she had said.
Ger O’Loughlin, as explained by his youngest daughter on Wendy’s arrival, was suffering from lung cancer after a lifetime of chain smoking.
Wendy found the man sitting up in bed, a ventilator forcing air into his destroyed lungs.
‘How is Mavis?’ Ger O’Loughlin asked, his voice rasping but weak.
‘She’s fine,’ Wendy said.
‘Still attractive?’
‘Still.’
‘She was a looker, couldn’t keep my hands off her when I was younger.’
‘She still acts younger than her age. Are you aware of her sister’s death?’
‘Grenfell phoned.’
‘Do you hear from him often?’
‘Rarely.’
‘When did you last see Mavis?’
‘It must be twenty-five years at least. We have spoken a few times, but both our lives have moved on. We’re long-distance friends, nothing more.’
‘Did he tell you about Garry Solomon?’
‘Yes, and he told me that Michael Solomon had died, but I knew that already.’
‘How?’
‘I kept in contact with him. We used to meet from time to time over the years. When he died, his second wife phoned.’
‘Did you know he was not divorced from Gertrude when he married the second wife?’
‘I never asked if he had married again. I assumed they were living together and she had taken his surname.’
‘Don’t you go tiring my dad. He needs to rest,’ O’Loughlin’s daughter said after poking her head around the door.
‘I won’t,’ Wendy said.
‘Always fussing, that one,’ O’Loughlin said after the young woman had retreated.
‘How many children do you have?’
‘Four, and a good wife as well. She’ll be back in later today.’
‘According to Mavis, she did not want children.’
‘That’s why we broke up. It was important to me, not to her.’
All Wendy could see was a tired old man close to death, but she had not travelled to talk about life now, but life back when he was younger, when he was married to Mavis Richardson.
‘Sorry, but I need to ask about Garry Solomon.’
‘The last time I saw him would have been around 1963, the night he walked in at
