‘Is there anyone here who would remember Lord Allerton? Possibly a member of the teaching faculty,’ Larry asked.
‘Mr Weston, one of our chemistry teachers. He was a pupil here at the same time as Lord Allerton. He made a speech at the early morning assembly about his memories of the dead man.’
‘When can we meet him?’
‘He’ll be free within an hour. I’ll make sure he comes over to meet you both.’
***
‘That damn fool had already told the police that he was going to see them,’ Keith Codrington said.
‘And you still went and killed him,’ Fortescue said.
The three remaining men met in the centre of London at a café they frequented.
‘What can we do?’ Griffiths asked. He knew there was no way out. The trail was too hot now, and it was only a matter of time.
‘You two can claim ignorance,’ Codrington said. His previously unshakable belief in his infallibility was crumbling, and the other two men could see that: the shirt that he wore, the jacket, the trousers, the shine on his shoes, none were as sharp as on previous occasions.
‘Ignorance will not protect us,’ Fortescue said.
‘You're innocent of the murders. You took no part in the business other than to finance me when I asked. What’s the most that can happen?’
‘Keith’s right,’ Jacob Griffiths said. ‘The most we’ll get is five years.’
‘That’s what I mean,’ Fortescue retorted. ‘We’ll be social lepers. I’ll lose my comfy seat in Westminster.’
‘And your mistresses,’ Griffiths said. ‘What will happen to me? The banks will renege on their loans.’
‘Allerton may have been a lily-livered coward, but he didn’t complain as much as you two. And now, when it’s falling down around our ears, you're hoping that it will all go away. Well, it won’t. The only question is what do we do?’
‘What are you going to do?’ Fortescue asked.
‘This will be our last meeting,’ Codrington replied.
‘You can’t do that.’
‘Why not? What are you going to do? Have me murdered?’
‘What about us?’ Griffiths asked.
‘Do what you like.’
The meeting ended badly, with Codrington taking a taxi, the other two men walking down the road.
***
‘I knew Allerton,’ Cyril Weston said. The man was dressed in a tailcoat, the standard wear for pupils and staff alike.
‘What can you tell us about him?’ Larry asked.
‘Likeable fellow. He married the Duke of Ashby’s daughter.’
‘Was he ever in any trouble at Eton?’
‘Not that I recall. As I said, I knew him, but I was not one of his circle.’
‘Do you remember who was?’ Wendy asked.
‘It’s a few years back now, but if there was a photo, I could probably pick them out. One of them became a politician, I know that.’
Mrs Goode quickly procured the annual photo for the year in question. ‘That’s Tim Allerton,’ Weston said, pointing to a boy standing in the second row.
‘Anyone else who is familiar?’
‘That’s me. I was a spotty individual then, not the person you see now.’ Wendy could see what he meant.
‘Anyone else? Lord Allerton’s friends?’
‘That’s the politician. Miles Fortescue. The other friends are the one to his left and the one standing at his rear.’
‘Mrs Goode, any way to identify them?’ Larry asked.
‘Five minutes. I’ve a record of every one of them.’
‘Is there any more that you can tell us?’ Wendy asked.
‘Not really. I was friendly with Allerton but nothing more. I remember that I didn’t like Fortescue very much, but for the other two, nothing. I certainly don’t remember either of them down on the sports fields.’
Five minutes later, as agreed, Mrs Goode had the information. ‘The boy at the back is Keith Codrington. The other one you’re interested in is Jacob Griffiths. He owns all those supermarkets you see up and down the country. I have no further knowledge on Keith Codrington.’
‘Do you have their last known addresses?’ Wendy asked.
‘I hope this doesn’t reflect poorly on the college,’ Weston said.
‘Unfortunately, it may. Allerton was murdered, and the other three may be implicated.’
‘Sad, very sad,’ Mrs Goode said.
‘Can you prove this?’ Weston asked.
‘It’s part of an ongoing murder investigation. Lord Allerton’s time here and his friendships may be circumstantial, but we need to check all possibilities,’ Larry said.
***
Codrington took the taxi to his Thame riverside flat after leaving the two fools, Griffiths and Fortescue, licking their wounds. The man had a broad smile on his face as he entered. He looked around, admiring his lifestyle. He then picked up two suitcases and left. No coming back, he thought.
He had to admit to himself that it had worked out splendidly. Not only had he avoided the law, but he had ensured that two others would take the blame. Where he was going there was no coming back, no need to. He had ensured that enough wealth was waiting for him on his arrival, and enough women if that was what he wanted, although he still wanted Allerton’s widow, the lovely Laura. He wondered if in time it would be possible. He thought it would, as she was mercenary, the same as he had been. He had been penniless when they had courted, but now she had the title and he had the wealth, at least more than her, and if the police confiscated her share, then he was always there. He knew she would come then.
‘Heathrow,’ he said, getting into the taxi that had waited for him. Codrington knew he would miss England, especially London with its drizzling rain and slush underfoot when it snowed, which in recent years had been infrequent, but he would not miss it so much that he
