‘It still makes no sense,’ Wendy said. ‘If you intend to hide a body for a short period, there must be better places than the house.’
‘Do we know where he was murdered?’ Bridget asked.
‘Good question,’ Isaac said. ‘The assumption is that it was in the house, but that’s not been confirmed. After thirty years, it may be difficult to ascertain.’
‘The crime scene examiner, what did he say?’ Wendy asked.
‘Not his call. He checked the body, and then handed it over to his crime scene investigators.’
‘There are still another few variables,’ Larry said. ‘If Garry Solomon did not contact his mother, what about his father?’
‘Another dead witness,’ Isaac said.
‘But his wife, or should I say his bigamous wife, is still alive,’ Wendy said. ‘I’ll go out there tomorrow.’
‘If somehow Garry Solomon had managed to avoid any contact with his parents, then why does he appear all of a sudden, only to be murdered?’ Larry asked.
‘Larry’s right,’ Isaac said. ‘All those years, and not once has he contacted his parents. It seems unlikely that he had not seen his father. They both moved in the same area of London.’
‘Their lawyer appears suspect,’ Larry said.
‘That’s my thought,’ Isaac replied. ‘He said that there was a secret, and if the body tied in with the sisters, he would reveal it to me.’
‘Now’s the time, sir,’ Wendy said.
The pizzas had arrived, and everyone was eating. Isaac had promised himself to keep it down to two slices, although he snuck in a third.
‘Garry Solomon is murdered for a reason. Asking for money hardly seems sufficient,’ Larry said.
‘Montague Grenfell is the key to this,’ Isaac said.
‘I’ll go out and see the grieving sister tomorrow,’ Larry said. ‘She must know something.’
‘I’ll meet Michael Solomon’s widow.’ Wendy reiterated her earlier statement.
‘Bridget, can you check out Garry Solomon’s movements over the missing years? See if there is anything of interest,’ Isaac said.
‘And you, sir?’ Wendy asked.
‘Montague St John Grenfell is going to give me some answers tomorrow, Earl Grey tea or no Earl Grey tea. I remain convinced that he knows something. The dead man had found out something which was dynamite. It was what got him killed. Grenfell must know something, although we must not discount Mavis Richardson.’
At eleven in the evening, the meeting concluded. Isaac sent an SMS to Jess. She sent one back to tell him it was too late, and she would talk to him another time.
Isaac went home to a cold bed and a hot drink, which was not how he liked his day to conclude.
At nine o’clock the next morning, Isaac made the climb up to Montague Grenfell’s office. He had managed to have an early morning jog, and this time he ran up the stairs.
Grenfell had not been expecting a visit from the DCI. He did not seem pleased to see him.
‘Sad business about Gertrude,’ Grenfell said.
‘Why was her son murdered?’ Isaac asked. He was not in the mood for procrastination. It was clear that the shock of Gertrude Richardson seeing her son no more than a mummified shell, manifestly unrecognisable except to a mother, had been the reason for her death.
‘I don’t know.’ Montague Grenfell, as usual, prepared tea. Isaac was aware that the man was hiding a secret. A secret that had remained hidden, unspoken, for many years. With Garry Solomon’s identity confirmed and his murder proved, the secret needed to be revealed.
‘We can do this down at Challis Street Police Station if that would help you to give me a straight answer.’ Grenfell was perturbed by the change in the policeman’s manner.
Grenfell had relaxed back in his chair, looking up into the air, resisting the need to make eye contact with Isaac. ‘Neither of the two women had any other children,’ he said.
‘Is that a fact?’ Isaac asked. ‘You failed to tell me about Gertrude’s son before. You could be omitting some information now.’
‘I failed to mention her son before because it was not relevant.’
‘You suspected it may be him in the fireplace. Am I correct in that assumption?’
‘From the information you had given me about the body, it seemed likely but highly improbable.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘He disappeared when he was in his teens. No one had heard from him since, except for a postcard to Gertrude to say he was in India.’
‘Is it confirmed that he was in India?’ Isaac asked.
‘I remember seeing it. There was an Indian stamp on it. Gertrude was delighted when she received it.’
‘And you felt that your suspicions about the body did not warrant informing the police?’
‘There were no suspicions. He had disappeared many years before the body was placed in the fireplace. The fact that the age appeared to be about the same as Garry seemed circumstantial. I know that he was in Australia for a short period.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I am the family lawyer. It’s my business to know.’
‘But how? And more importantly, why?’
‘If both of the sisters die, then Garry Solomon would have inherited their money and assets.’
‘What about their husbands?’
‘Mavis was smart enough to make sure that wouldn’t happen. She married for love, but she was still a realist. She knew the family wealth would make them an attractive target for smooth-talking Romeos.’
‘But Gertrude lost all her money to this type of man?’ Isaac said.
‘She lost plenty, but not all.’
‘You’d better explain that statement.’
Montague Grenfell went to make another cup of tea.
The lawyer returned and sat upright on his chair. ‘I suppose I should confess something here,’ he said.
‘If you’re about to confess to the murder, then I should caution you.’
‘Nothing like that,’ Grenfell replied.
‘When Gertrude was in her twenties, she fell madly in love with an Italian she had met on holiday in Italy. Both Mavis and I were aware of Gertrude and her momentary fantasies, falling for the wrong kind of man only to realise very quickly that it was more lust than love. Gertrude at that time had access to half of the Richardson family fortune. In the moment of greatest love, the man could ask for anything and she would agree. This Italian gave her a story about his ailing mother back home. Gertrude, an easy target then, not the embittered woman that she became, fell for the story. He had letters and photos, even arranged for her to phone his mother. The outcome of this was that Gertrude arranged a transfer of twenty thousand pounds to his account. Remember, this is the 1950s, so in today’s money that would be over two hundred thousand pounds.’
‘A lot of money,’ Isaac said.
‘As you say, a lot of money.’
‘And the Italian?’
‘After it had been made clear that no more would be forthcoming, he soon disappeared.’
‘And what of Gertrude?’
‘Broken-hearted for a few weeks. Some years later, she found someone else.’
‘Another scoundrel?’
‘Not this time, but he had issues.’
‘What sort of problems?’
‘He couldn’t keep it in his pants.’
‘Unfaithful?’
‘Eventually bigamy.’
‘Michael Solomon?’ Isaac asked.
‘Yes.’
‘You mentioned a confession.’
‘It was clear that Gertrude, given the opportunity, would have given all of her money to one man or another.’
‘You said that Michael Solomon was a friend of yours,’ Isaac reminded Grenfell.
‘He was, but I did not want to see Gertrude lose all her money to him.’
‘But he was a good businessman?’
‘Eventually, but he would take some risks, go into substantial de
bt. Gertrude had to be protected.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Mavis knew the details, and we hatched a plan. The best protection for her sister was to ensure that she had no noticeable wealth. Then any smooth-tongued man that came hunting for a wealthy woman would not find it with Gertrude.’
‘I was under the assumption that she had lost all her money, and that Mavis had covered the debts.’
‘Not all of it. Gertrude still had sufficient, although she was never interested in asking or checking. To her, money was there for spending. I doubt if she looked at a bank account once in her life.’
‘Mavis?’ Isaac asked.
‘Total opposite. Mavis could tell you her bank balance down to the last pound.’
‘But the hatred between the sisters?’
‘There was no hatred from Mavis. She loved her sister. The problem was with Gertrude. She blamed Mavis for her life, her parlous state, even the health of her cats, the condition of the mansion. And especially for her son leaving.’
‘Are you saying that her hatred was invalid?’
‘If Garry had not seen his father with Mavis on the bed, then maybe he would not have disappeared, but that’s past history. As I said, Michael Solomon was a friend, even if he could waste money, Gertrude’s money, at times. Garry, for whatever reason, was not as the father. Mavis always saw him as common, but it was not that.’
‘What was it?’ Isaac asked.
‘Being shuffled off to a boarding school at an early age may have been part of the problem. The belief that he was unloved, especially by his mother. But mainly because he was not a good person. His character, even from an early age, was disruptive, argumentative, and by the time he was nineteen, he was already getting into trouble with the police. He had been to three boarding schools, all very expensive and exclusive, and he had been expelled from the first two for stealing from the other boys. He was destined to turn out bad, and his father knew that.’
‘His mother?’
‘She made excuses, but she was not a good mother. Always interested in the pursuit of her own pleasures, and she was promiscuous, even more so than Mavis.’
‘The parties at the mansion?’
‘Harmless fun for those who partook.’
‘You included?’
‘Why not? I was young, and there were always plenty of women.’
‘You stated before that you ensured that Gertrude had no visible wealth.’ Isaac returned to Grenfell’s earlier statement.
‘It was clear that Gertrude would give her half of the fortune away eventually. Each time that she came to her sister for money, we would take some more and put it into a trust account.’
‘And this money?’
‘It’s all there. The records are meticulous. Gertrude and eventually Garry were still wealthy.’
‘If Garry had lived, he would have inherited money?’
‘Yes.’
‘Enough money to kill for?’
‘I suppose so. The money was not the issue then as Gertrude still had plenty.’
‘If Gertrude had so much money, then why did she live so poorly? Why did her sister allow it?’
‘But she didn’t. That was Gertrude’s choice. She was always eccentric. The crazy old woman with the cats suited her. I had offered to fix up the mansion for her, even take the cats to the vet for check-ups, but she wouldn’t have any of it.’
‘Who owns the mansion?’
‘Gertrude and Mavis own it jointly.’
‘But Mavis said she did, and Gertrude believed it did not belong to her,’ Isaac said.
‘That may be, but there was an incident some years ago when Gertrude wanted her half-share to help out Michael Solomon.’
‘And you didn’t give him the money?’
‘There was already money in the trust fund. We used that and kept the mansion. Believe me, there was never any attempt to cheat Gertrude. It was all done out of love to protect her.’
Isaac realised that Montague Grenfell had explained the situation satisfactorily. It all sounded plausible to him, but it would need to be checked out.
‘Due to the seriousness of the matter, would you be willing to allow the trust fund records to be examined?’ Isaac asked.
‘Yes.’
Isaac intended to pass them over initially to Bridget. His instinct told him that Grenfell had acted honourably. He was still not sure about Mavis Richardson.
Chapter 10
Wendy met Mary Solomon at a restaurant close to where the woman lived.
‘My daughter is looking after her children,’ the woman said. Wendy noticed that she looked a lot better away from the oppressive house in Fulham.
‘Mrs Solomon, I have a few questions,’ Wendy said.
‘Call me Mary. Besides, I am not sure if I am legally Mrs Solomon.’ Wendy chose not to comment.
‘Are you aware of a child from his previous marriage?’ Wendy asked.
‘He mentioned that there was a son.’
‘Did you have any suspicions that your husband may not have been divorced?’
‘None. It was never mentioned when we applied for a marriage licence. I always assumed it was legitimate.’
‘And the previous wife, what did you know about her?’
‘He never spoke about her. I don’t even know her name.’
‘She died last week,’ Wendy said.
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Does the name Solly Michaels mean anything to you?’
The reaction on Mary Solomon’s face indicated that it did.
‘I met a person by that name, a long time ago. He was friendly with my husband.’
‘Do you remember the year?’
‘Not really. He would have been about my age.’
‘What age would you have been?’
‘In my early thirties.’
‘Did you meet him many times?’ Wendy asked.
‘Only a couple of times. I assumed it was to do with my husband’s business. Why did you ask about Solly Michaels?’ Mary Solomon asked.
‘Subject to confirmation, it was his son.’
Mary Solomon sat back on the chair, visibly shrunken. ‘What else did my husband not tell me?’ she asked.
‘Unfortunately, we need to find out,’ Wendy said.
‘My eldest son is always in trouble with the police. Was Michael’s first son?’
‘It appears so.’
‘It must be genetic. Michael’s first son, and our son and daughter.’
‘Your daughter?’
‘A bad drug habit. She tells me she’s working up in the city, but I know the truth.’
Wendy could see that the woman had been dealt a bad hand, and that life had not treated her well.
‘Tell me more about your daughter,’ Wendy said.
‘I followed her once. She’s working in a club up there, selling herself to feed her habit.’
‘Does she know that you know?’
‘I confronted her. She told me to mind my own business. Then she lands her mongrel spawn on me to babysit. They are only children, but I can see it already. Michael’s genes have infected another generation. They’ll grow up same as the mother and the grandfather.’
‘What about the father of the children?’ Wendy asked.
‘Some mongrel or mongrels she sold herself to, no doubt. One of the children looks half-Chinese.’
‘Your son’s child?’
‘The mother walked out on Daniel after he had hit her once too often. I am the child’s mother now, although he looks fine. Maybe with this one it will be my genes and its mother.’
‘Good woman, was she?’
‘Lovely, but Daniel doesn’t know how to treat women. His father did.’
‘Solly Michaels, is there any more you can tell me about him?’ Wendy asked.
So far, they had not ordered any food. Wendy rectified the situation and ordered for them both. The woman sitting opposite appeared glad to be taking a break from the drudg
ery of her domestic situation. Wendy was thankful that her children were fine and adult and not causing trouble. Even her husband had treated her well until his dementia kicked in.
‘Michael’s son by this other woman, what happened to him?’ Mary Solomon asked.
‘He’s dead.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. He was a nice-looking man. Now I think about it, he did bear a resemblance to Michael. I must have been stupid not to notice, although he always called my husband by his first name.’
‘He died in 1987.’
‘How sad. Do you think Michael knew?’
‘We don’t know.’
‘I’ll let you know if I remember any more, but it could not have been Michael, not his own son.’
‘I only hope you are right.’
After finishing their meal, Wendy walked with Mary Solomon to her house. The woman gave Wendy a hug as they parted. Wendy realised that Michael Solomon knew more than he had ever told Mary. She hoped he was not involved in Garry’s death as Mary Solomon had enough to deal with. She had learnt that her husband had been a bigamist, her marriage certificate was probably not valid, and then she had two children and their offspring, and none of them looked fine. To find out that her husband was a murderer as well, a murderer of his own son, Wendy thought, would be more than Mary Solomon could be expected to bear.
***
Mavis Richardson was extremely cordial when Larry Hill knocked on her door. He had some trepidation about visiting her on his own, but everyone was busy, and besides he did not need a nursemaid to look after him.
‘On your own?’ she asked. Larry noticed a nice spread of food laid out on the coffee table. He had questions to ask, not the time to partake of a feast, and besides, he needed to keep his distance from the woman.
Larry seated himself in a chair close to the fireplace. Mavis Richardson sat close by in another chair. ‘There are some questions,’ he said.
‘A lot of questions, I suppose.’
‘According to Montague Grenfell, Gertrude’s money was intact.’
‘A lot of it was wasted, but we saved her from herself.’
‘We?’
‘Montague and I.’
‘There was animosity between you and your sister, though.’
‘Only from her side. As I told you before, I forgave her.’
The DCI Isaac Cook Thriller Series: Books 1 -3 Page 41