‘My God,’ Isaac exclaimed as he entered the room.
Grant Meston, Windsor’s number 2, stood to one side. ‘Mrs Lawrence, we’re assuming,’ he said.
‘How long?’
‘If he bolted the door over thirty years ago, then I’d say she’s been here that long.’
‘But she’s just a skeleton,’ Larry said.
‘That’s what happens to the human body. The hair is still there, so are the teeth, but not a lot of skin. There are relatives, I assume.’
‘A son and a daughter. We’re contacting them now.’
‘How do you tell them that their father has been keeping the dead body of their mother in the house?’
‘We’ve dealt with worse.’
Isaac walked around the bed. There appeared to have been no attempt to clean the body or the bed, not even the room. A lone flower in a vase by the side of the bed was the only sign of any attempt at sanctifying the area, and it had been placed there years before.
‘It’s a first,’ Meston said.
‘For all of us. That clarifies whether Gilbert Lawrence was mentally unstable or not.’
‘He’s been in here,’ Meston said. ‘Probably not in the room for several months. But outside on the landing, we found his footprints.’
‘You’ll remove her body?’
‘Eventually. The body outside is more important. Mrs Lawrence, what’s her history?’
‘We’re still checking. What we know from the housekeeper is that Mrs Lawrence just upped and vanished one day. Apparently, she had issues. After that, the husband slowly retreated from the world.’
‘Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’ Meston said.
‘Wonder about what?’
‘Whether all this money’s worth having. Did you see the cars?’
‘No. Windsor said they were special.’
‘Two vintage Rolls Royces.’
‘They’re not really important, are they?’
‘No. The two bodies are.’
‘Then I suggest you concentrate on them,’ Isaac said.
‘Point taken, DCI.’
‘The rest of the house?’
‘There has been movement throughout the house, but not much.’
‘Gilbert Lawrence?’
‘It appears to be only the one person. Any suspects for his death?’
‘Not yet.’
***
‘My father and mother were very close. Sometimes my brother and I felt left out, not that we were ever badly treated, on the contrary,’ Caroline Dickson, née Lawrence, said. Isaac could see that compared to her father’s mansion where she lived was smaller, but it was immaculate. The interior walls of the house in Chelsea were lined with paintings, and most of the furniture looked antique.
‘It would be better if you took a seat,’ Larry said.
A confident and strong-willed woman, Caroline Dickson remained standing. ‘I’ve already been told about my father,’ she said.
‘Who told you?’
‘Molly phoned, the first time in many years.’
‘How long since you’ve seen him?’
‘We saw him for a few weeks after our mother disappeared, but then he would walk away from us and lock himself in another room. After that, we haven’t seen him since, my brother and I.’
‘Not even when he was walking to the off-licence?’
‘Once or twice, but it was difficult. I never spoke to him, and I don’t think Ralph, my brother, did.’
‘Why?’
‘Our father was such a dynamic man. You know what he achieved?’
‘Property speculation?’
‘Speculation is when you played the game, took a chance. With our father, there was no risk-taking. He bought property, fixed it up, and rarely sold it. He was not a man to show off, though.’
‘Apart from the mansion and the cars in the garage.’
‘He didn’t hide his wealth, although he preferred not to talk about it. He had grown up poor, a slum somewhere up north. The mansion was for him and for us. The cars were a childhood passion, not that he ever used them, but they were always polished and ready to go. After so long, no doubt they’re not looking so good.’
‘We still need you to sit down,’ Larry said.
‘My father’s been murdered. What else is there?’
‘Who would want to kill your father?’
‘No one that I would know of. Ralph and I will probably inherit, not that it means much to me.’
‘Why?’
‘Desmond, my husband, is a fine arts dealer, very successful. We have enough money, although I wouldn’t mind one of the cars.’
‘Why?’
‘Desmond’s got a thing about vintage cars.’
‘Your brother?’
‘Ralph’s not had it so good. A few failed marriages, a son off the rails, and a couple of businesses that went belly-up.’
‘Anything else about him?’
‘You’d better ask him. We talk once or twice a year, but Desmond can’t stand him. Ralph, unfortunately, is his own worst enemy.’
‘Could he have killed your father?’
‘He could do with the money, but not Ralph.’
‘Sisterly love?’
‘The last time we spoke, Ralph was in Spain.’
‘He could have flown here.’
‘He’s in jail.’
‘What have you done about it?’
‘Nothing. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last. And each time, he promises to pay us back, but he never does.’
Isaac looked around the room where the three of them were. He could see the affluence, although an art dealer could have the antiques and the paintings on loan. An appearance of wealth did not mean that there was wealth.
It was clear that Caroline Dickson was not going to sit down. Instead, Isaac sat down. ‘We’ve found your mother,’ he said.
That was enough to make the woman sit and place her hand across her mouth. ‘Where?’
‘When was the last time you went inside your father’s house?’
‘Over thirty years.’
‘Your mother is upstairs in the main bedroom. She’s been there, we believe, for all that time.’
‘We thought she had disappeared, had an accident.’
‘Your mother is propped up in her bed.’
‘Dead? I suppose that’s a silly question.’
‘It’s not, but yes, she’s dead.’
‘How?’
‘We don’t know yet. Pathology will probably give us the answers.’
