‘There are no guns here,’ the would-be tough man said. Wendy could see that Larry was ready to give him a swift kick in the stomach and a slap across the face.
The other anarchist remained curled up, fast asleep. On the arm of a chair next to where he slept, an empty bottle of whisky.
‘Not much revolution today from that one,’ Larry said, looking over at the man.
Wendy returned to Michael Lawrence. ‘What is it? Here or down at the police station?’
‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’ Wendy could see the similarities between him and his father. She imagined that the young man could even be handsome underneath the tattoos and all the rings, some in his ears, one in his nose, another in his left eyebrow. If he was an indication of what the end of capitalism was to bring, then she was glad it was not going to happen anytime soon. One of her two sons had come home with a tattoo once. She remembered hitting the roof, not that he had taken too much notice as he had been drunk, but the next day, he felt her tongue. After that, she had to put up with the occasional tattoo, liking some, not liking others.
Then she and Bridget on holiday in Italy had dared each other, and both had had a small butterfly tattooed on their left ankle. It had been down to too much of the local vino, and Wendy’s sons had given her hell when she got back to England.
‘Okay, here, if you must,’ Michael said, attempting to sit up and to lean against the wall.
‘We’ve spoken to your father,’ Larry said.
‘Him? What for?’
‘What do you know of your grandfather, Gilbert?’
‘Not much. I’ve never met the man.’
‘What else do you know?’
‘According to my father, my grandfather is rich.’
‘He’s one of those that you’re against.’
‘It won’t be long before you and your masters will be gone. Plenty for everyone.’
‘Someone will need to work. Will it be you?’ Larry said.
‘Not me. Giles says the revolution will need soldiers.’
‘I thought it was to occur when the people of England embraced the cause. There’d be no need for you then. Mr Lawrence, you’re just a layabout, spouting nonsense as long as you are able to doss here. Helmsley told us where you were. He’s done a con trick on you and the others, but that’s not why we’re here.’
‘My grandfather. What about him?’
‘Do you know where he lives.’
‘No. Should I?’
‘Your grandfather was killed.’
‘Should I be sorry? Shed a tear? Is that what you want?’
‘Mr Lawrence, did you kill him?’ Wendy said.
‘Are you joking?’
‘Did you know anything about him?’
‘Giles wanted me to find out more. He asked lots of questions.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I knew where he lived, that’s all. I never went to the house or spoke to anyone.’
‘Your father’s sister?’
‘I left home at fourteen. I’ve been on the street ever since. I may have met her when I was a child.’
‘What would you do for some of your grandfather’s money?’
‘Anything.’
‘Including detoxing from drugs, finding a job?’
‘Anything.’
‘Mr Lawrence, your grandfather has offered you one million pounds if you are willing to enter into a private drug rehabilitation clinic to sort yourself out. After that a job. Will you do it?’
‘Yes, for a million pounds.’
‘Very well. Make a phone call to this number,’ Wendy said as she handed Michael Lawrence the number written on a piece of paper.
Outside on the street, the figure of Giles Helmsley. ‘Not willing to go in, is that it?’ Larry said.
‘I’m here to ensure that the comrades are not subjected to police brutality.’
‘What would you do if they were? Wise up, Helmsley. You’re a charlatan preying on vulnerable people who neither understand nor care about what you’re talking about, as long as they have their drugs and a place to sleep.’
‘Did you feed that errant nonsense to the comrades?’
‘Don’t worry. The comrades are beyond caring about what we have to say,’ Larry said.
Wendy and Larry walked to their vehicle.
‘You were pushing it,’ Wendy said.
‘Michael Lawrence could have killed his grandfather, but it would have needed Helmsley to make him.’
‘A blow for the cause?’
‘Helmsley’s cause. He could have hatched a plan to kill the old man, assuming that the grandson would get some money. And then he’d convince Michael to hand it over.
‘It’s a possibility, but far-fetched.’
‘It’s no worse than any other scenario.’
‘No better, though.’
***
Two weeks after the death of Gilbert Lawrence, five letters were sent. Two days later, four of them were signed for. The first recipient, Molly Dempster, opened hers and almost collapsed to the ground. The second, Caroline Dickson, phoned her husband. The third was delivered to Emma Lawrence. She was disturbed to receive it, not altogether surprised. The fourth was received by Leonard Dundas. He was shocked by the thoroughness of what he read. The fifth, to Ralph Lawrence, was not delivered due to the man not being at the hotel where he was staying.
The first that Homicide heard of the letters was when Molly Dempster appeared at Challis Street Police Station. It was Wendy who escorted the nervous and shaking woman up to Homicide.
Isaac and Larry, who had been out following up on the few leads they had, returned to the station as fast as they could.
Once back, the team sat with
