‘Send me an email with the address, and I’ll get out there,’ Larry said.
Isaac arrived back in the office just after midday. Katrina Smith was still up in Leicestershire and would be down in London later that night. Isaac offered to pick her up at the station, but she had declined. Her mother was picking her up, and she should spend some time with her.
Bridget rushed into Isaac’s office with a cup of coffee on his arrival. Larry came in soon after.
‘Take a seat,’ Isaac said. He had been a little weary after the drive down, but Bridget’s caffeine-rich coffee soon revived him. Five minutes later, DCS Goddard entered the room. He was in an ebullient mood. Isaac wondered why but assumed he had been pressing the flesh with the movers and shakers again.
DCS Goddard saw a protégé in Isaac; DCI Isaac Cook saw a mentor in DCS Goddard. It did not isolate Isaac from his boss’s wrath and frustration; a kick up the arse when it was needed.
Today was not one of those days.
Bridget brought another coffee for their DCS. He thanked her.
‘What’s the latest, Isaac?’
‘Loose ends, sir.’
‘DI Hill, what are you up to?’ Goddard asked.
‘We know where the grille that prevented entry into the murder room was constructed, sir.’
‘And when are you going out there?’
‘As soon as I leave this meeting.’
‘Wendy?’ The DCS looked at Isaac.
‘The funeral is tomorrow.’
‘Who will be going?’
‘All of us.’
‘Fine. I will be there as well,’ Goddard said. ‘Bridget, what have you to report?’
It was evident to Isaac that someone was asking Richard Goddard questions, or just winding him up to bring the case to a conclusion. Someone influential, but who and why? Isaac did not see it as important, and besides, it was a murder enquiry, and setting a schedule for murderer apprehended, murderer convicted, case closed did not work. As far as Isaac was concerned everyone was doing their best, even Wendy who should be on compassionate leave. But he had known the DCS longer than anyone else in the department, and when you needed support or advice, his door was always open.
‘Montague Grenfell seems to have been an exceptionally precise man, very honourable and decent.’
‘He still ends up murdered.’
‘We’re not sure about that,’ Isaac said.
‘There is a scuffle. He falls down the stairs, dead at the bottom. That’s murder in my book.’
Isaac knew that his DCS was baiting him. ‘It could have been a disagreement that unfortunately had fatal consequences.’
‘Gordon Windsor’s report stated clearly that the man had been manhandled through the door of his office. He then attempted to wedge his foot against the wall at the top of the stairs. It looks conclusive to me.’
‘As you say, conclusive.’ Isaac saw no validity in contradicting his senior’s opinion.
‘Were Garry Solomon and Montague Grenfell killed by the same person?’ DCS Goddard asked.
‘It seems unlikely,’ Isaac said.
‘Why?’
‘There is almost thirty years between the two murders. There must be a strong possibility that the murderer of Garry Solomon is dead.’
‘How much longer do you need with this case? I’m being asked to keep costs under control.’
‘Not at the expense of a murder investigation,’ Isaac said.
‘The accountants only understand the bottom line. They are out of touch with reality, but unfortunately we all have to contend with them.’
Isaac knew that it was rhetoric and that Richard Goddard would keep the wolves at bay. And besides, the department's key performance indicators were good. The last three cases they had found the murderer and ensured a conviction within an acceptable time period.
‘We are conscious of budgetary restraints,’ Isaac said.
‘Fine. Montague Grenfell seems the easiest case to solve,’ DCS Goddard said.
‘Yes.’
‘I need an arrest within ten days.’
‘Why ten days, sir?’
‘I am to make a presentation to the prime minister on the modern police force. I intend to use your department as an example.’
‘It will not be possible to present the current case, sir.’
‘Understood. Unofficially, off the record, I can.’
‘We will do our best.’
‘Budgetary cuts?’ Larry asked after DCS Goddard had left.
‘Rhetoric,’ Isaac replied. ‘I’ve known the man for many years. If we keep doing our job, he will make sure we are left alone.’
‘Our jobs are secure?’ Bridget asked.
‘Totally. Larry, you’d better chase up on that grille.’
‘Five minutes, and I’m out of the door.’
‘If we don’t meet again, 2 p.m. tomorrow afternoon at St Agnes.’
‘We’ll all be there,’ Larry said. Bridget nodded her head.
***
The sign over the door said ‘O’Reilly’s Metal Fabricators’, although thirty years previously it had said Dennison. Larry was not optimistic.
‘No computers back then,’ Sean O’Reilly, a big blustery man with a beer belly proudly extending at his front, said. He used braces to keep his trousers up, as his waist and a belt did not provide an adequate restraint against the laws of gravity.
‘I appreciate it’s a long shot, but I need to try,’ Larry explained. He had shown his ID badge on arrival, been afforded a friendly welcome and a quick tour of the facilities.
‘Not much has changed in thirty years, apart from the computers. The majority of the work is manual labour, and it’s hard to find any of the younger generation interested now.’
‘Is it just you?’
‘I have one man, but he’s part time now. A bit long in the tooth, he’s pushing seventy, and he’s not much use really.’
‘Why keep him on?’
‘He’s been here forever, even before my time, and I need the help. Once I go, the place will close down.’
‘Your offsider, would he be able to remember back to 1987?’ Larry asked.
‘He’ll be here within the hour. You can ask him then.’
Larry took the opportunity to grab a coffee and a sandwich in a small
