‘Samantha’s turned out alright, and her children are a credit to her. The eldest, Grant, is hoping to be a doctor, although James is an angry young man, the same as I was at that age. But then, I turned out alright.’
‘Annie?’
‘Very sensitive, a lovely young woman. The spitting image of her mother at that age.’
‘The day Marcus disappeared?’ Isaac said.
‘I met up with him, gave him some chores to do. He wasn’t the ideal employee, not bright enough, but he was married to my daughter, so I made allowances. I liked him, a thoroughly decent man, although if he hadn’t had Samantha and me, he would have ended up like Armstrong, in and out of prison.
‘Anyway, we meet at nine in the morning. There’s an issue at one of the clubs, a burst water pipe or something like that, plus one of the bartenders was helping himself to some of the money. Marcus had to check on him and take the appropriate action.’
‘What sort of action?’
‘The sort that gives you a sore head and a few days in bed. You can’t let them get away with it, or else they’ll all be trying it on. A few of the girls were into drugs, and they were always after extra money.’
‘He was beaten up?’ Wendy said.
‘It wasn’t a police matter, and if the man took his medicine, I’d let him back in the club, give him his old job again. No one ever cheated twice.’
‘And if they did?’
‘Hypothetical. They never did.’
Isaac knew that wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t the reason they were at the mansion drinking Earl Grey.
‘Marcus left you and went to the club?’
‘It wasn’t until that night when Samantha phoned to say he hadn’t come home that I thought any more about him. I went around to her house, and then I got some of my people to start making phone calls, to make visits to the clubs and premises I owned, to trace his steps. It wasn’t like Marcus to do anything silly, and Samantha thought it was another woman, but that wasn’t Marcus. He wasn’t the sort to fool around, not even with the girls in the clubs, and some of them were easy. The days went by, and then the months. Eventually, we all start to move on with our lives, even Samantha.’
‘You never suspected that he may have been killed?’
‘Suspected, I would have. But I never really believed that to be possible. Sure, I dealt with some rogues at the time, but murder wasn’t part of their modus operandi. Acting tough, being tough were part of it, but kill someone and the police would start sticking their noses in, and we didn’t want that. We looked out for ourselves; your people would have only got in the way.’
‘What did you think had happened to him?’
‘I assumed he had just vanished, the reason never to be known, but I had no reason to believe he was dead. At least I didn’t want to think that, not for Samantha, not for their children.’
‘The rift with your daughter?’
‘Occasionally, the subject of Marcus would come up. It eats at you, not knowing what has become of him. It was a couple of years back. I was at her house and Marcus came up in conversation. It had been four years. I might have said something unkind about him.’
‘Might?’ Wendy said.
‘Did. I told her that he wasn’t worth waiting for and that she should find herself another man.’
‘How did she take that?’
‘Not well. She started accusing me of never liking him, and she wouldn’t be surprised if I hadn’t done something to him.’
‘Had you?’
‘I couldn’t do that, not to Samantha. I think that’s where our conversation ends,’ McIntyre said. ‘It’s time to make peace with my daughter.’
Chapter 7
The days passed in Homicide. Isaac busied himself with reports and continued the daily routine of the early-morning meetings, the evening meeting to discuss what had resulted from that day.
Detective Chief Superintendent Goddard, Isaac’s mentor and friend from the early days of Isaac’s policing career, when Isaac had been a sergeant and Richard Goddard an inspector, made his presence known in the office daily.
Matthews rated low on the crimes that needed solving, so much so that inertia was threatening to permeate the department.
Bridget was to provide the renewed impetus. ‘I’ve been checking through a history of crimes that Hamish McIntyre is suspected of.’
The consensus in the office was that Samantha Matthews had been open with the two police officers when she had been interviewed. However, Isaac, the more cynical of the two of them, wasn’t yet one hundred per cent convinced that she wasn’t involved in the death of her husband. A person without flaws, and considering what her father did, was always suspect; dig deep enough and the skeletons would fall from the cupboard. Yet none had fallen so far.
The quick arrest which every police officer hankers after, good for the record, wasn’t going to happen this time. And murder by consent was a new crime for them to consider.
A conviction for first-degree murder seemed unlikely, and even second-degree was a long shot. Conjecture on Isaac’s part as he had spent time going over the circumstances in that small room at the top of that house, trying to imagine the scene, as if he were a
