The result from Pathology was not unexpected, and the woman’s death was not the primary consideration, Gilbert Lawrence was. The two police officers returned to Homicide. It was time for a meeting with the team.
‘What about the son?’ Isaac asked. It was the first time he had sat down in his office for some time. Wendy Gladstone was in the office, as were Larry Hill and Bridget Halloran.
‘Ralph Lawrence has a history of failed businesses, broken marriages, and a troubled son along the way,’ Bridget said. Office-bound, and glad of it, she was the person who could find her way around a search engine. Isaac had asked her to put together a profile of Gilbert Lawrence, a dossier on him and his family. ‘Ralph Lawrence is in Spain, speculative real estate sales to English tourists. I contacted the local police there, and the man’s been released from jail on the understanding that he leaves the country immediately.’
‘To where?’
‘London. I assumed you would want to talk to him.’
‘Is he being picked up?’
‘He is. I’ve organised someone from the station.’
That’s what Isaac liked about his team, always thinking ahead, taking the initiative. And yes, Ralph was a person of interest, although if, as it seemed, he was in Spain, he could not be the murderer.
‘What else?’ Larry said. He was standing, his usual pose. Both Wendy and Bridget were sitting down.
‘You and DCI Cook have met with Leonard Dundas. Is he providing you with a list of Lawrence’s assets?’
‘He is, but we would rather hear it from you. Dundas will be considering what to tell us, and what not to.’
‘Very well,’ Bridget said. ‘This is what we have. Gilbert Lawrence, eighty-two years of age. He purchased his first property when he was nineteen, a small studio flat in Clapham. Nothing special and it was rented out. By the time of his twenty-fifth birthday, he had sixty-three properties throughout London. Some were shops, others were offices, although the majority were residential. From what I can gather, he was cutting a swathe through London, and I’ve found newspaper articles showing the young property magnate. Their words, not mine. He had met and married his wife when he was twenty-two, purchased the house where he died when he was twenty-nine. Before that, it had been converted into flats. He had it renovated, and Dorothy decorated it. It featured in a couple of magazines at the time. I’ve included copies of what it looked like back then, although I suppose it looks vastly different now.’
Larry looked at the magazine article. ‘It does,’ he said.
‘Any history on Dorothy Lawrence?’ Isaac asked.
‘If you’re referring to her bouts of madness, there’s very little. She was born in the north of the country, went to school there. I’ve managed to obtain a birth certificate. After her marriage to Gilbert, two children, Caroline and Ralph. You’ve met one, the other is due in the next few hours. I’m checking with the private hospitals around the country that deal with people who have her condition.’
‘Why private?’
‘Gilbert Lawrence was a private man. He would not have wanted any more people than necessary to know if his wife was ill.’
‘She could always have been signed in under a false name.’
‘How many properties did Dundas tell you about?’ Bridget said.
‘Over two hundred.’
‘I’ve found close to one hundred and fifty through companies that are registered in his name or companies that he controls in the UK. The other properties may be overseas or hidden from view. Also, in the thirty years that he remained reclusive, he has expanded his empire considerably. He may have retreated from the world, but he continued to make money.’
‘Which means that whatever the reason he decided to hide in that house with his dead wife, he was still mentally astute.’
‘It makes you wonder what makes people tick,’ Larry said.
‘Or how they can form enemies who want to kill them.’
‘That makes no sense. Gilbert Lawrence spoke to no one, offended no one, and he didn’t get involved with his son and daughter, and yet he’s killed. The man was old and frail. He couldn’t have lasted much longer anyway.’
‘Long enough if you’re to inherit.’
‘Ralph?’
‘Or Caroline. And what about Ralph’s son?’ Isaac said. ‘Where is he?’
‘The last we have on him is an arrest for drug possession six months ago. After that, nothing.’
‘Wendy,’ Isaac said.
‘Leave him to me.’
‘What about Gilbert and Dorothy’s daughter?’
‘Caroline married Desmond Dickson thirty-three years ago.’
‘Were Gilbert and Dorothy at the wedding?’
‘It’s in the files I’ve given to all of you. Yes, they were. It’s also the last record I can find of Dorothy.’
Larry studied the newspaper article. ‘The two Rolls Royces in the garage,’ he said. ‘They were used at the wedding.’
‘Caroline and Desmond Dickson have two children,’ Isaac said. ‘What do we know about them?’
‘Both are employed, steady jobs. The daughter is married with a child under one. The son is single. Neither has been in trouble with the law.’
‘And Desmond Dickson?’
‘A fine arts dealer, well respected. We’ve nothing against him.’
‘Statistically, it’s a family member or someone Gilbert knew,’ Isaac said.
‘Ralph or his son. They’re the most likely,’ Wendy said.
‘The most obvious, although Ralph wasn’t in the country, and the grandson is a junkie.’
Chapter 5
Wendy Gladstone, from when she had been a constable in the north of England finding child runaways to tracking down persons of interest in a murder investigation in London, had an enviable reputation. Her skill, she knew, honed over the years, was to adopt the mindset of those she was looking for. A rich person is not about to hide in
