Wendy realised that the woman had said it to tease Larry.
‘She’s had a few too many drinks,’ Grenfell said.
‘A friend of yours?’ Wendy asked.
‘One of many. I make no pretence as to what I am.’
‘And what is that?’
‘A lecherous old man who should know better.’
The three sat down at a dining table.
‘Tell me why you are here?’
‘Are you aware of certain events pertaining to your family?’
‘Albert is dying, and Montague will inherit the title.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I have no contact with Albert, and very little with Montague.’
‘Why is that?’ Larry asked.
‘They disapprove of me.’
‘Because of your lifestyle?’
‘They belong to the past. They see that a title and position requires a person to devote himself to a life of sobriety and service to the community. I don’t.’
‘They still pay you to live the life they despise?’ Larry said.
‘No option. They could not have a family member of theirs demeaning himself with taking a menial job, even living with the proletariat.’
‘I am sorry to tell you that Montague has died,’ Wendy said.
‘No, that cannot be. I spoke to him the week before last.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Albert.’
‘Why?’
‘Albert was the one who insisted on maintaining my lifestyle.’
‘And Montague would have stopped your allowance?’
‘Probably not, but I wanted to check.’
‘Are you sad that Albert is dying?’
‘Why? Should I be? Look at the life he led – boring and pointless. Married to the same old shrew for years.’
‘She’s dead.’
‘A long time. The best thing she did for Albert.’
The frivolous rent-a-lay poked her head around the corner of the door. ‘I need you,’ she said to Grenfell.
He told her to watch the television or to have another glass of champagne. She left and went back upstairs, complaining as she went. Wendy was certain that she was snorting cocaine.
‘Mind you, I did like Montague, even if he was stuffy.’
‘What do you mean?’ Wendy asked.
‘He always had his head in a book, or was fussing over money.’
‘Highly regarded by your family and the Richardsons.’
‘The Richardsons,’ Grenfell sighed.
‘What is it about the Richardsons that causes you to sigh?’ Larry asked.
‘I never understood the relationship.’
‘They are cousins.’
‘I realise that, but we have other cousins. I never saw any of them receive the same benevolence.’
‘Did you know them?’
‘Twenty to twenty-five years since I’ve seen the two sisters.’
‘The eldest one is dead.’
‘Gertrude?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘Why?’ Wendy asked.
‘Highly promiscuous.’
‘She was eighty-seven when she died.’
‘At least she knew how to enjoy life.’
‘Not for the last few years. She had become reclusive.’
‘Unhinged after her son disappeared.’
‘What do you know about the son?’
‘We were about the same age, shipped off to the same boarding school. He was a decent person, although he had some of Gertrude’s madness.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He had a wild streak. Always getting into trouble.’
‘What sort of trouble?’
‘At school: graffiti when he could get hold of some paint, smuggling whisky into the dormitory, even managed to seduce the headmaster’s daughter. The old man caught him in bed with her, expelled him immediately. Made himself a legend amongst the pupils that day.’
‘Do you know why he hated his mother?’
‘Hate? He didn’t hate her, quite the opposite.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He loved her, but never wanted to see her.’
‘Do you know why?’
‘No.’
‘On the death of your brother, you will become Lord Penrith,’ Wendy said.
‘I suppose so.’
‘What are your thoughts?’
‘No need to worry about the neighbours up there.’
‘You would move in to the family home?’
‘It will need fixing up first, but yes. Why not?’
‘You intend to enjoy yourself?’ Wendy asked.
‘For as long as I can.’
‘Garry Solomon. What do you know about him?’
‘No idea what happened to him.’
‘It’s been on the news.’
‘Too busy to watch the news.’
‘Garry Solomon is dead.’
‘How?’
‘He was murdered.’
‘Somebody’s wife or daughter, I suppose.’
‘We don’t know why.’
‘When?’
‘1987.’
‘That’s a long time. How did Montague die?’
‘He was pushed down some stairs.’
‘Murdered?’
‘Murdered. Or an unfortunate consequence of a fight.’
‘Fight? Montague? He was a pacifist.’
‘His death clears your way to the title,’ Larry said.
‘The title means little to me.’
The two police officers left soon after. The young woman was becoming restless again, and Malcolm Grenfell looked more in need of her services than talking to them.
Chapter 20
‘George Sullivan,’ Isaac said in the office on Wendy and Larry’s return. ‘He is the other man in the photo.’
‘And you want us to find him, sir?’ Larry asked.
Wendy, once back in the office, had moved over to near Bridget. Isaac could see that Wendy was in need of her friend’s ministrations. For the moment, it was only Isaac and Larry.
‘Any ideas about him, DCI?’
‘Nothing to go on. His lordship gave the name just before he fell asleep.’
‘How much longer before he dies?’
‘According to Katrina?’
‘Katrina?’ Larry asked, knowing full well who Isaac was referring to. The office always liked a little bit of gossip, even if it was discreet.
‘Katrina Smith, his private nurse.’
‘How long?’
‘One week, give or take a few days.’
‘And then Malcolm Grenfell is the new Lord Penrith.’
‘Is he excited?’
‘Not sure.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He professes not to care, but he’s a member of the idle rich. With Albert and Montague dead, he gets the title, the stately home, and the money.’
‘A good enough motive to murder Montague Grenfell.’
‘As you say.’
Wendy, feeling slightly better, came over and joined the conversation. ‘I didn’t like him, sir,’ she said.
‘Malcolm Grenfell?’
‘A man his age messing around with a
