‘So?’ Isaac felt that it was his turn for a one-word comment.
‘Looking at his notes is not in my area of expertise.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I am an expert in legal and financial. Reading through the man’s notes is not my area.’
‘Do you have a problem?’ Isaac looked Dawson straight in the eye. Keith Dawson, now the focus of attention, drew himself up, sucked in his stomach, although it still left his shirt hanging half out.
‘I’m not the best person for the job,’ he admitted.
‘Bridget can work with you.’
‘Okay. I can give you a day of my time. If we see anything, we’ll let you know.’
‘Wendy, what are your plans?’ Isaac asked.
‘Emma Hampshire is still around from when Garry Solomon died.’
‘Fine. You concentrate on her,’ Isaac said. ‘Larry, we need to find who ordered the grille.’
‘The record is probably there, but it’s not a pleasant job sifting through thirty years’ worth of papers.’
‘When will we have an answer?’
‘Today. I’ll make myself a nuisance until they find it.’
Isaac wrapped up the meeting, giving them all a pep talk as to how this was a crucial day: a day when the pieces come together.
‘How’s Katrina Smith?’ Wendy asked as she left the office.
‘Promotion to sergeant can always be reversed,’ Isaac replied with a smile.
Chapter 24
Malcolm Grenfell, the new lord, had brought up some friends from London, and they were partying around the clock. The cook who had been with the previous Lord Penrith for twenty-five years had left one day after Katrina Smith.
The young girl that Grenfell had in tow had been supplemented by another two, and according to the housekeeper, there was enough Viagra in the lord’s bedroom to stock a pharmacy.
Isaac still had his reservations about the man. Of all the people in the case, he was the one with the most to gain. If Montague Grenfell had acceded to the title, he might have cut off the younger brother’s allowance.
It was clear that Malcolm Grenfell was incapable of earning a salary. His forte appeared to be seducing susceptible young women, no doubt enamoured by his easy spending.
As Isaac sat back in his chair the phone rang. ‘Lord Penrith,’ the voice said.
The person he had been thinking about was talking to him. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘How long are you going to take with this bloody case?’ His lordship was clearly as drunk as a lord.
‘We are hoping to start arresting people in the next few days.’ Isaac realised that it was not the truth, but he was looking for a reaction.
‘Then bloody well hurry up.’
‘Why is it so important?’ He should have addressed Lord Penrith as ‘My Lord’, or ‘Sir’, but that would have been acknowledging that Malcolm Grenfell deserved respect, when he did not.
‘I can’t access Montague’s bank accounts.’
‘His death is regarded as suspicious.’
‘The man had one leg. He was bound to fall down those stairs at any time.’
‘Have you been to his office?’
‘A few times.’
‘When was the last time?’
‘Two years ago, when he was not paying me regularly.’
‘I was under the impression that he always paid on time.’
‘Maybe he did, but not then.’
‘Any reason?’
There was a pause at the other end of Isaac’s phone.
‘I upset Albert.’
‘How?’
‘I called him a miserable old man.’
‘Why?’
‘I was drunk. That was all.’
‘If Montague had not died, you would not have become Lord Penrith.’
‘Are you saying that I killed him?’
‘It’s a good enough motive. In fact, the only motive we have. No one else wanted him dead.’
‘Montague had his secrets.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ll let you find out.’ The phone line went dead. Isaac tried to ring back, but no answer.
***
Wendy, still not fully recovered from the emotions of the previous days, was glad to be back at work.
Emma Hampshire, as usual, was just about to go out when Wendy knocked on her door. Wendy was not sure if it was true or whether the woman always said it for effect. Regardless, the woman invited her in.
‘I am sorry for your loss,’ Emma Hampshire said. She was the same age as Wendy, but she had spent her life looking after herself: regular trips to the gym, no cigarettes, no excessive drinking.
‘Thank you.’
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Malcolm Grenfell is now Lord Penrith.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Tell me about him,’ Wendy said.
‘I used to see him from time to time.’
‘What was your opinion of him?’
‘He was often drunk and rude.’
‘Tell me about Garry?’ Wendy asked.
‘What’s to tell? We’ve spoken about him before.’
‘Garry was murdered for a reason, as was Montague.’
‘Are you certain about Montague?’ Emma Hampshire asked. She had settled back in her chair, resigned to the fact that she would have to go out later. And besides, Wendy Gladstone was good company, even if she was a policewoman.
‘Mavis Richardson has died.’
‘I know.’
‘How?’ Wendy asked.
‘Malcolm Grenfell phoned me.’
‘He has your number?’
‘I’m in the phone book.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Just that Garry’s aunt was dead.’
‘Did you know her?’
‘Not personally.’
‘What else did Malcolm Grenfell say?’
‘He was crude.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He assumed I would have screwed him for a title.’
‘Your reply?’
‘I was polite. I think he had a woman with him.’
‘Was he serious in his offer?’ Wendy asked. Everyone in the department assumed Malcolm Grenfell was only interested in women half his age.
‘About screwing me or the title?’
‘Either, I suppose.’
‘He always tried it on when Bob wasn’t looking.’
‘Did you take him up on the offer?’
‘No way. I was devoted to Bob, still am.’
‘There are conflicting statements as
