‘Date?’
‘As best as I can tell, February 1987.’
‘One month after the murder,’ Larry realised. ‘Could one person have installed it?’
‘With some difficulty. The person would need to know how to use a drill with a masonry bit for the Ramset bolts.’
‘A woman?’
‘Unlikely, unless they were very practical.’
Chapter 18
By the time, Larry arrived back in the office, Wendy was there. He could see that she had been crying. Bridget was consoling her. ‘It was for the best,’ she was saying.
‘I know, but he was a good man.’
Larry, realising what had happened, came over and put his arm on Wendy’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied meekly.
‘You’d better go home,’ Larry said.
‘DCI Cook’s already said that,’ Bridget said.
‘I prefer to be here. Too many memories there,’ Wendy said. ‘Tell me about the case.’
Larry had experienced the same feelings when his mother had died five years previously. Sitting around remembering helped little. It was best to keep the mind busy and elsewhere.
‘Do you need any help with the arrangements?’ Larry asked.
‘Thanks for offering, but my sons will deal with it.’
‘If you want to work?’
‘I do. Please update me.’
‘Sue Baxter, the lady of the house in Bellevue Street, has found some photos.’
‘Are they relevant?’ Wendy asked.
‘They are old and grainy, but I think they are.’
‘When did she find them?’
‘Long enough ago to have informed us before.’
‘Have you seen them? What do you reckon?’
‘There is one with a child on a bicycle. It may be Garry Solomon. Another two photos show a gathering of adults. We need to identify them.’
‘Leave it with me.’
‘You will look after Wendy?’ Larry said to Bridget.
‘Don’t worry. She'll be all right with me.’
Isaac arrived back in the office soon after, his search for Malcolm Grenfell curtailed due to the death of Wendy’s husband.
‘I’m so sorry, Wendy,’ he said.
‘Thank you, DCI. He was old and barely recognised me, but we had been together for a long time. To me, he was still the strapping young man that I met when I was nineteen. I was a bit wild then, but he soon settled me down.’
‘We’re here for you. Whatever you want, just let us know.’ Isaac put his arms around Wendy and gave her a hug.
DCS Goddard arrived soon after to offer his condolences.
Wendy, not wishing to feel sorry for herself, an understandable reaction under the circumstances, obtained the photos from Larry. She passed them over to Bridget, who had soon found a programme on her computer to enhance them, and to remove some of the marks. Within twenty minutes, the photos were immeasurably improved.
Wendy could see the resemblance of the young boy on the bicycle to the more recent photo of Garry Solomon at nineteen. Under normal circumstances, the mother would have been the ideal person for a positive identification, but Gertrude Richardson was dead. Failing that, there would have been Montague Grenfell, but he was dead as well. Mavis Richardson would have been the next logical choice, but the team had decided that the knowledge of the photos should, at least for the time being, remain concealed from the Richardsons and the Grenfells.
The team had agreed that two of the adults were Gertrude and Mavis Richardson, and Michael Solomon and Ger O’Loughlin were probably two of the men, but there were three others in the photos. Isaac thought that one bore similarities to Montague Grenfell, but he was not sure. As to the other man and woman, no one had any ideas.
Isaac, after he had updated his senior, resumed his search for Malcolm Grenfell.
Wendy thought Garry Solomon’s widow, Emma Hampshire, would be a good person to talk to about the boy on the bicycle. Larry said he would go with her.
Wendy acted as though she was fine, but everyone in the office could see through the veneer. Her sons had phoned, asked how she was. The eldest had spoken to Bridget, who put Isaac on the phone.
Isaac told them not to worry as they would look after their mother and bring her home at night.
***
Emma Hampshire was preparing to go out when Wendy and Larry knocked on her door.
‘Can we take a few minutes of your time?’ Wendy asked. ‘This is Detective Inspector Hill.’ Larry briefly flashed his ID badge.
‘I was just going to the gym,’ Emma Hampshire said. ‘Personal trainer, so he charges me if I am there or not.’
‘Sorry about that,’ Larry said.
‘What can I do for you?
‘I want to show you a photo,’ Wendy said. Larry had to admit that she was holding up well, better than he had when his mother had died.
‘Fine.’
‘It’s old, and the condition is not great, but do you recognise the boy on the bicycle?’
Emma Hampshire studied the photo for a couple of minutes. ‘It’s Garry.’
‘Are you certain?’ Wendy asked.
‘He looks just the same as Kevin at that age.’
‘You took a while to answer,’ Larry said.
‘It just made me sad that Kevin is not here.’
‘He is fine,’ Wendy said.
‘You’ve seen him?’
‘Last week.’
‘Drugs?’
‘He was clean and living in Hampstead.’
‘Can I have his address?’ Emma Hampshire asked.
‘He seems to blame you for boarding school, and breaking up the marriage with his father.’
‘That’s unfair, but he doesn’t know the full story. The boarding school was strong on discipline, and Kevin needed it. He was difficult, the same as his father. It was for his own protection, not because I wanted to spend more time with Bob.’
‘And the other issue?’ Wendy asked.
‘Garry poisoned his mind with a story about my screwing another man in his bed. I was not the
