‘Any proof?’
‘Not really. We were away a lot of the time, although Molly would have seen it. My mother was clear that she didn’t want our father to be on his own, and if it wasn’t her, it was to be Molly. To Ralph and me, she was a second mother, but she never interfered in the family. She’d just be there, always in the background, always trustworthy.’
‘In the end, Molly wasn’t with your father, was she?’
‘After our mother disappeared, although we didn’t know that she was dead and upstairs, our father became reclusive. He became what you know of him. The loss of our mother must have affected him greatly.’
‘And Molly?’
‘She was distraught, but she continued regardless. Always stoic, always a meal on the table. I never saw her cry.’
‘Some people don’t,’ Isaac said. ‘Sometimes they just bottle it up, keep busy, although when they’re on their own, they let go. Molly could have been one of those people.’
‘Probably, but she was the rock when our father went to pieces with grief.’
‘And you?’
‘I was at the house every day after our mother disappeared, out on searches for her. We dredged the canal, the ditches, looked in manholes, checked the train station, local buses, taxis, but nothing. The police were involved. You must have records.’
‘We do, but what about Ralph?’
‘He wasn’t there. By then, he had gone overseas, and it was two years before he made contact again. He was in Thailand, or maybe it was Cambodia. It appears he had met someone and he was planning to stay. When I told him about his mother, he came back, not that there was any point. Our mother was gone, we even held a memorial service for her at the local church, and our father was already in seclusion. He only started going to the off-licence in the last ten years. Before that, Molly would deal with everything. A list of requisites in the kitchen of a morning and she would buy what was needed, prepare his meals, change his bed, the one that had been placed in the room off the kitchen.’
‘Why did she do that for all those years?’
‘That was Molly.’
‘Coming back to Ralph,’ Isaac said. ‘What are we going to do to help him?’
‘He needs to tell you the truth. The money can be dealt with, but do the people who put him in the hospital take what’s given and leave well alone?’
‘They probably will, but it’s a different circumstance here. Your father was incredibly wealthy. A temptation to most people, not only the criminal.’
‘We’ve had enough begging letters and emails. My family of long-lost relatives is over two hundred now. You wouldn’t believe that I have family on all continents.’
‘We’ve seen it before; lottery winners are the more susceptible. Some have even squandered their wealth on the more deserving cases,’ Wendy said.
‘Were they?’
‘Who knows. It’s not criminal to beg, not criminal to give. It wasn’t a police matter, only if it was a scam.’
‘We’ve got a big bin, that’s where they all go,’ Caroline said.
‘It doesn’t stop them knocking on your door, jumping out in front of your car, feigning an injury.’
‘It’s happened. Desmond’s considering hiring a guard for outside the house, but for how long? Has Molly been pestered?’
‘We don’t think so, but we’ll check. There are some questions for her.’
‘Don’t trouble her too much. She’s just an innocent. All this is beyond her,’ Caroline said.
Chapter 21
Larry worked his contacts, attempted to find out who was lending big, who was likely to use violence if anyone defaulted.
Harry Eckersley, a low-life that Larry had heard of before, operated out of a shop in Hammersmith, no more than a couple of miles from Challis Street. The shop was rundown, full of second-hand phones, laptops, and computers, assorted bric-a-brac and more than enough family mementoes, deposited there for sale or return to the owner if they came up with the ready cash. It was not the sort of place that Larry liked, and he knew that some of the merchandise wasn’t legally acquired. He didn’t expect a friendly welcome.
‘Detective Inspector Larry Hill, Homicide, Challis Street. Are you the owner?’ Larry said as he showed his warrant card, his photo and name displayed.
‘No one’s died in here, copper,’ Eckersley replied. ‘No need to kill anyone for what they leave here in exchange for some of my hard-earned.’
Insults from the general public weren’t unexpected. Larry had heard it before, even in the pub he visited on a Friday night for a quiet drink of beer. The rough element that sometimes got in there knew that the police were powerless to respond to verbal threats, and after a few drinks, some had attempted to bait Larry and other police officers more than they should, usually being egged on by their drunken mates.
Larry had experienced one a couple of weeks previously. It was close to closing time, and the man who had been hurling names had come out of the pub feeling pleased with himself. He didn’t see the man standing to one side out on the street, not until it was too late. He fell to the ground after one blow in the face from a clenched fist. ‘Next time, it’ll be your groin,’ Larry said.
‘That’s police brutality. I could report you.’
‘No witnesses,’ Larry said. He knew he had been wrong to hit him, but sometimes enough was enough. The next time Larry encountered the man, he had walked over, patted him on the back and bought him a pint of beer.
‘Sorry about the other week. Too much beer, not enough brains,’ he said.
‘Forget it. You’re not the first, you won’t be the last.’
‘I pity the poor guy who you hit in the balls.
