It was only when he was confronted with endless paperwork that he became downhearted. DCS Richard Goddard could only sympathise, but as he had said, ‘what the new commissioner wants, he gets.’
Goddard and Cook regarded each other as friends. Isaac had been over to the DCS’s house on a few occasions, had even been invited to the wedding of his eldest daughter. On that occasion, he had taken Jess. That was the time when their romance was full on. She had enjoyed the ceremony and the reception immensely; even hinted to Isaac to make an honest woman of her. It was also before their first argument over Linda Harris.
Isaac realised that he kept reflecting back to Jess. Linda Harris had been attractive and briefly available, Sophie White had always been there, and Katrina Smith, his current girlfriend, was certainly attractive and he liked her a lot, but always there was Jess O’Neill in the back of his mind.
It concerned him sometimes, wondered if it was love. He just did not know. He considered whether he should phone Jess up, take her out, but he was aware that Linda Harris would reappear, not as a physical incarnation but as a mental barrier. He could forget that he had been foolish and lustful that night, but Jess never would.
He collected his thoughts and refocussed on the paperwork.
No point regretting the past, he thought.
Isaac managed another twenty-five minutes at his desk, completed a couple of reports, but it was long enough for him. Keith Dawson had caused everyone in the department to analyse the investigation.
Larry Hill, untidy desk aside, was going through his notes. A clear motive for Montague Grenfell’s death had been given, and it could only mean one thing: the murderer was alive, and he had the password.
Wendy was talking to Keith Dawson, the majority of the conversation spent on the case, the rest spent on her financial status and Inheritance Tax. Dawson’s constant reiteration that there was nothing to worry about was not helping.
She knew she was numerically dyslexic, and his analysis on a piece of paper showing what she owned and what she owed meant little to her. ‘If I take your assets, here in the left column, and your liabilities in the right column and subtract, you are below the threshold.’
Bridget sat to one side. It seemed clear to her, but for Wendy it was not.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you,’ Bridget said.
‘You understand what Keith is saying?’ Wendy asked.
‘It’s all quite simple.’
‘Not to me,’ Wendy replied, feeling a little stupid that the simplest mathematics left her confused.
***
Isaac could see that he needed to give his people direction. He called them into his office. ‘Gordon Windsor is adamant that Mavis Richardson died of natural causes,’ he said.
Wendy was pleased to hear Windsor’s comment. Bridget, who professed a belief in the Almighty and the afterlife, thanked God. Both women had not liked the idea of digging the old woman up just after she had been buried. To them it was disrespectful.
Larry, who had no such concerns, had said after Dawson’s statement, ‘Dig her up.’
Isaac had been brought up by Jamaican parents to believe in God and the Almighty, but also to be fearful of evil spirits. His English education had discounted the evil spirits, but he maintained an abiding respect for God, even if his visits to church were relegated to Christmas and Easter.
‘I suggest we focus on Montague Grenfell’s death,’ Isaac said.
‘I thought we were,’ Larry said.
Isaac thought Larry’s comment was condescending, but let it pass.
‘Do we have a list of suspects, sir?’ Wendy asked.
‘There are two issues to consider: firstly, who would have known about the secret account, and secondly, who would have had the strength to manhandle Grenfell to the top of the stairs.’
‘Malcolm Grenfell,’ Larry said.
‘He’s the most likely suspect, but can we prove it?’ Isaac asked.
‘Does he have an alibi?’ Wendy asked.
‘We know that Grenfell died between the hours of 11 p.m. and 2 a.m. on the night of the twenty-fifth.’
‘Malcolm Grenfell will not have an alibi.’
‘Other than he was at home with his woman,’ Isaac said.
‘‘Judging by the condition of the girl we met, she would not be reliable,’ Larry said.
‘What do you mean?’ Bridget asked.
‘Drunk, spaced out. She was there with Malcolm Grenfell for a good time and money, nothing more. Besides, he has dumped her now. May be hard to find.’
‘Who else would have known?’ Wendy asked.
‘Mavis Richardson, obviously. Possibly Albert.’
‘They are both dead.’ Larry stated the obvious.
‘Agreed, but who else would have known?’
‘Montague Grenfell was not the sort of man to tell anyone,’ Wendy said.
‘Agreed, so let’s look at the more unlikely.’
‘Emma Hampshire, Kevin Solomon, and the other children of Michael Solomon,’ Larry said.
‘What about George Sullivan?’ Wendy added.
‘You said he was an old man,’ Isaac reminded her.
‘He is, but he’s still agile.’
‘We are not aware of any contact between Michael Solomon’s other children and Montague Grenfell. According to their mother, neither of them are of any consequence. The son follows after his half-brother Garry.’
‘What do you mean?’ Bridget asked.
‘Petty criminal.’
‘Apparently, the daughter, a heroin addict, is selling herself up in the city,’ Isaac said.
‘Hardly great recommendations for the offspring of Michael Solomon,’ Larry said.
‘As you say.’
‘Should we check them out?’ Wendy asked.
‘We only have their mother’s opinion on her children. She’s probably correct, but we need to check.’
‘Bridget, compile a dossier on Michael and Mary Solomon’s two children. Aim to have it prepared for our 5 p.m. meeting,’ Isaac said. ‘In the meantime, Larry, follow up on who ordered the grille to be installed at Bellevue Street. Wendy,
