Max’sannouncement that the office was about to close broke Morton from his reveries,where he was envisioning the character of Betty Beebee. Old, short,ration-starved, hair in a tidy bun. Her name didn’t suggest she was acruel abuser of neglected children. She sounded jolly, the kind of personalways ready with a smile and a warm hug.
Morton typed upthe document dates, references and findings, adding them to the growing file onthe Coldrick family.
‘Excuse me, MrFarrier?’ Morton looked into the glare of Miss Latimer, who hurriedlyscooped up the ledgers from Morton’s table, as if she had caught him about tosecrete them down his trousers. Miss Latimer indicated the clock at theback of the room. ‘The office is now closed,’ she said dourly.
Morton wantedto smile and issue an acerbic retort, but instead he answered, ‘That’sfine. I’d finished anyway.’
Morton nodded agoodbye to Max and headed out of the office, depositing a stack of his businesscards on the foyer stand, which stated in bold type that he was a ‘ForensicGenealogist’. He knew full well, however, that Miss Latimer would likelythrow them all in the recycling as soon as he was out of the door.
After a throatyand heavy-sounding few seconds, his car finally turned over and he began hisjourney home. On a whim, Morton pulled into a busy Tesco Express andgrabbed a bottle of white wine and the ingredients for Juliette’s favouritemeal of wild mushroom and goat’s cheese risotto.
Tired and drained, Juliette had arrivedhome and changed into a pair of white jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt. She had removed the numerous grips which held her hair neatly under her PCSOhat, allowing the dark waves to fall freely over her shoulders. She leantcasually on the doorframe to the kitchen, watching as Morton dished up therisotto onto two waiting plates. When she was off-duty, Juliette took alot of time and care over her appearance, spending an inordinate amount of timein front of the mirror applying a range of creams and make-up, the function ofwhich Morton could never hope to understand. It was how she appeared now,relaxed and natural, that Morton found the most attractive.
‘Did any morecome to light today about Peter Coldrick?’ Morton asked, carrying the twoplates of steaming dinner over to the dining room table, where he’d set twoglasses of white wine. Juliette followed and sat opposite him.
‘Well,’ shebegan taking her first mouthful of dinner, ‘I logged onto the PNC and-’
‘PNC?’ Mortonqueried, not being au fait with the overwhelming abundance ofpolice acronyms.
‘PoliceNational Computer. I thought I’d take a look at Peter for you. Nothing came up – no previous convictions, no arrests, no cautions – he’s amodel citizen. Not even a parking or speeding ticket.’
Morton wasunsurprised. Coldrick had hardly seemed the type to have been up for GBHor running a drug cartel somehow. ‘Anything else?’
‘I spoke toMalcolm Burrows in CID about Peter and they’re definitely going down thesuicide line. It’s going to the coroner and ultimately it’ll be herdecision.’
‘Did nobodyquestion why a man like Coldrick would shoot himself? Where doesMalcolm Burrows think he got the gun from?’
‘I don’t know,but I guess that’ll be investigated.’
‘Do you knowwhat type of gun he used?’ Morton asked, guns being another specialism of his.
‘Just a regularshotgun, I think. He could have got it from anywhere. Hisex-girlfriend didn’t seem to think he owned a gun.’
Morton took asip of wine and shot an interested look at Juliette. ‘Ex-girlfriend? Did you happen to get her name? She might be wortha visit.’
Juliette took amoment to finish her mouthful, her analytical face showing that she wassearching for the name. ‘Soraya Benton,’ she said finally.
‘SorayaBenton,’ Morton repeated, making a mental note to look her up after dinner.
‘What aboutyour day?’ Juliette asked.
Morton spentthe rest of the mealtime relaying his trip and its findings to Juliette. She always professed interest in his work, even when Morton was conveying dry,historical facts about a family she knew nothing about.
Ordinarily, Morton would have helpedJuliette to clear away the dinner; on this occasion, he left Juliette to loadthe dishwasher by herself, whilst he quickly logged onto his laptop to run anelectoral register search for Soraya Benton. He punched in hername. Four results. Only one in the whole of the south-east and shewas living in Tenterden, just a few miles from Peter Coldrick’s house. Bingo. He scribbled down the address and phone number then shut the lidon his laptop. Morton stared at the paper with Soraya’s name on it andwondered if she could shed any light on the mysterious Coldrick family. Maybe being Peter’s ex-girlfriend meant that she knew something of how a manliving in a council house could afford to pay such a huge fee for hisservices. From the way Peter had spoken at their one and only meeting, hewas unemployed and had been for some time. The thought of how Peter could find sucha vast sum to pay him hadn't really crossed his mind at the time but now heweighed the possible options of where the money had come from. Lotterywin? Unlikely - what were the odds? Fourteen million to one? Redundancy? Possible - but no mention was made of any previous job. Savings?Possible but unlikely. Inheritance? Possible - his father haddied last year, about the right time for his estate to pass through the hurdlesof probate. His searches at the beginning of James Coldrick’s lifewere proving fruitless, so perhaps it was time to start looking at the end ofhis life for answers.
‘You’re day-offtomorrow, aren’t you?’ Morton called into the kitchen.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Fancy a tripto Brighton?’
Julietteappeared at the lounge door. ‘Why?’ she asked suspiciously, a questioningscowl screwing up her face.
‘Just thoughtit would be nice to have a shop, meal out and walk along the beach,’ heanswered.
Juliettelaughed. ‘When have you ever suggested going out shopping? What’sthe real reason?’
Morton smiled.‘Brighton District Probate Registry.’
Juliette’s eyesnarrowed and Morton was sure that he could see the workings of her brain behindher hazel eyes, processing the information. ‘And what goes on there?’
‘It’s agovernment building where wills and administrations
