‘A trip to Eton College? When?’
‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘What about the meeting here?’
‘That’s fine. We’ll be here at 7 a.m. After that we’ll drive down to Eton, it’s not far.’
‘Agreed. Do you know anyone down there?’
‘Eton College? It’s hardly likely. Maybe the janitor,’ Wendy said.
Chapter 21
‘You bastard, you stinking bastard,’ Lady Allerton screamed down the phone.
‘Laura, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Keith Codrington replied.
‘You were always trying to get him involved in some lame-brained scheme or other, and now he’s dead.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Did you kill him? Tell me that.’
‘Of course not. I may be a rogue, but I’m not a murderer.’
‘You lying bastard. You had him killed to protect whatever shabby business you’re involved in. Tim was a good man, even if he was a soft touch. Believe me, I should know.’
‘He married you.’
‘I loved the man for all his faults. Is this revenge because I refused you?’
‘That was a long time ago, and besides, I couldn’t give you a title.’
‘Tim said it was drugs.’
‘The police, did you tell them?’
‘And bring the family name into disrepute?’
‘Not you,’ Keith Codrington said. ‘You would have fed them a line about what a good man he was. No doubt some tears.’
‘Timothy told me everything,’ Laura Allerton said. She knew she was talking to the responsible person; a person callous enough to have someone killed. She remembered when they had been lovers all those years before. She remembered his arrogance, his unfailing belief in himself, his desire to show that even though he was only a distant cousin, he deserved the title and her. He knew she would have gone with him if that had been the case, but the cards had been stacked against him. The one person that he could not have, and she was on the phone berating him for killing her husband.
‘What did he tell you?’
‘He told me about the smuggling of drugs into the country, and how it had saved us from financial ruin.’
‘Did it?’
‘Yes, of course it did.’
‘Then was the cost worth it?’
‘If I had known before I would have said no.’
‘But you didn’t. And now? Are you willing to give all the money back?’
‘What do you think I am, stupid?’
‘Anything but stupid. You’ll hang onto the money, as Tim would have. The man may have gone soft, but he wanted the money, not the risk.’
‘Is that an admission of your guilt?’
‘Not an admission, just a statement of fact.’
‘You murdered him because he was going to talk to the police. Don’t deny it.’
‘You know me better than that.’
‘Yes, I do. You’re guilty. Did he tell you he had already phoned the police?’
‘When?’
‘Before you killed him.’
The phone went silent for a few moments. ‘What do the police know?’ Keith Codrington, former lover of Lady Laura Allerton and murderer of her husband, asked.
‘They knew he was involved, but he had given them no names.’
‘That’s why they were up there with you so quickly.’
‘They’re not dummies. They’ll put two and two together.’
‘And you, Laura? What’s your position?’
‘I will protect the Allerton name.’
‘Even if that means lying.’
‘And whatever else is necessary. You’re the murdering bastard who destroyed us.’
‘I saved you. What if you had been forced to leave Allerton Hall? You’re a snob, the same as Tim was, the same as me, but I don’t have a fancy title, only my ability to make money. One day you’ll thank me.’
‘It won’t be today,’ Laura Allerton said as she ended the phone call. It was time to mourn her husband.
***
The meeting in the office at Challis Street the following morning took less time than expected. Len Donaldson was spending so much time in the office that Bridget had bought him his own coffee mug from a shop down the road.
Apart from a debriefing on Isaac and Donaldson’s trip north, not much was said. Wendy and Larry were ahead of the game and were ready to make the trip to Eton College.
A local inspector had phoned the college to arrange an appointment with the administration office.
Upon arrival, they were ushered into a warm room. They had not brought any uniformed police at the request of the college. ‘Doesn’t look good,’ Maureen Goode, the head of admissions said.
Wendy thought that it may look even worse when the truth of what some of their ex-pupils had been involved in became general knowledge. So far, Lord Allerton’s death was being reported as murder, cause unknown, although that did not stop the speculation on social media, ranging from close to the truth to the bizarre. Not that Wendy took any notice of it. Apart from the occasional email and her limited attempts at typing a report, she saw no need for the technological age. She had grown up in a small farming community, and there had been no technology apart from a black and white television, a crackling radio and a black Bakelite telephone.
‘Mrs Goode,’ Wendy said, ‘you are aware of the death of Lord Allerton.’
‘Yes. Tragic. They said a few words in assembly this morning about him.’
‘Did you know him?’
‘Oh no. I’ve only been here ten years. He left long before that.’
‘We are here because of his death. We need to find out who may have borne a grudge against him.’
‘He’s an Old Etonian. Nobody would.’
‘That’s as may be, Larry said, ‘but someone murdered him. You are aware of that.’
‘He’s one of our boys. They’re such good people, good citizens. You’re conscious of the quality of the young men we admit, their families?’
Their bank
