‘Montague alluded to that fact. I never asked for the details. I had problems of my own.’
‘Your husband?’
‘Ger O’Loughlin.’
‘And where is he now?’
‘Not here.’
‘Have you seen or heard from him since?’ Larry asked.
‘Infrequently.’
‘We have no record of children. Is that correct?’
‘I never had children. Never wanted them anyway. My social life was more important. A child would only have hampered my lifestyle.’
‘And your husband?’
‘He wanted children. My reluctance doomed the marriage.’
‘And where is he now?’
‘Ireland, surrounded by his brood.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘He occasionally contacts me. I’ve not seen him though.’
Larry realised that his questioning was not progressing. Ger O’Loughlin did not seem relevant, and Bridget had found proof that he and Mavis Richardson were legally divorced. The death of Garry Solomon aka Solly Michael was the only issue. Mavis Richardson’s husband was not relevant unless he could be tied in with Gertrude’s family.
‘Did your husband know Garry Solomon?’
‘Yes. I told you that he pulled him off me.’
‘We know that Garry Solomon disappeared when he was nineteen, but what about Michael Solomon?’
‘He stayed around for another six months, but by then the parties at the mansion were starting to wither. Everyone was tired of the same people to swap car keys with. At first it had been fun, a titillation, but eventually it became routine.’
‘Is that when you fell out with Gertrude?’
‘Around that time.’
‘Why?’
‘She wanted money for Michael, a lot of money.’
‘And you wouldn’t give it to her?’
‘I knew what he was up to. It wasn’t financially sound, so Montague falsified the accounts to show that she didn’t have that much money.’
‘You effectively broke up her marriage,’ Larry said.
‘I couldn’t let her bankrupt herself. Believe me, it was in her own best interest.’
‘Did she eventually find out?’
‘No.’
Larry took advantage of the spread placed in front of him, and he was only eating because he was hungry.
‘A glass of wine, beer?’ she asked.
‘On duty. Can I come back to Garry Solomon?’
‘If you must.’
‘Did you ever hear from him again?’
‘No, although Michael did.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Remember, I told you that I ran into him once in the street.’
‘Did he mention his son?’
‘He asked after Gertrude, I asked after their son.’
‘His reply?’
‘He said he had seen him on a couple of occasions. I asked him if the son had contacted his mother.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Garry could never forgive her.’
‘Forgive her for what?’
‘No idea. Maybe the lack of love he received from her, maybe the fact that his mother slept with other men, perhaps he was just angry, but I was the one screwing his father. He was not aware that Gertrude was off screwing someone else, although he was a smart lad. He probably assumed she was.’
‘Tell me about that night,’ Larry asked.
‘It’s old history. I am with his father, Gertrude is with Montague. Is this important?’
‘I want to ascertain what happened after Garry put you in the hospital.’
‘He ran out of the house. Five hours later, in the early morning, he returns.’
‘And then what?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What did his father say to him?’
‘Nothing. Garry’s reaction was understandable. Michael and Gertrude took him to the Caribbean for a couple of weeks, acted the loving parents for once.’
‘Did you see him again?’
‘Never. Whenever he was there, I made sure to be somewhere else. That night was the last time that I saw him.’
‘You never forgave him for what he did to you?’
‘I’ve explained this before. It was his returning to school, and bragging to his friends about what he did to me that I could never forgive. As far as he was concerned, his father was welcome to screw whoever he wanted.’
‘And his mother?’
‘Typical male chauvinist attitude. Very prevalent in the sixties. It’s alright for the man to screw around, but not the woman.’
‘What did he say at school?’
‘He told everyone, even the sons of friends of ours, that I was a slut. I could never forgive him for that. A sign of bad blood, Michael’s blood. That’s what happens when you breed outside of your class.’
‘When did he finally leave home?’
‘He was nineteen, hormones raging. He comes home with a female in tow and says he is off to India. He makes sure to score some money out of his parents and a bank transfer from Montague.’
‘Your money?’
‘Both Gertrude’s and mine, although she did not know that it was.’
‘Why did you agree?’
‘He was still Gertrude’s son.’
‘And the female?’
‘Supposedly he married her in India.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘I’ve no idea. Montague may know.’
Mavis Richardson excused herself and left the room for a couple of minutes. Larry took the opportunity to update Isaac regarding Garry Solomon’s wife. If anyone knew what had happened in India and on their return, it would be her.
Isaac could see that information was still being withheld. It was almost as if the Richardson family and Montague Grenfell were intentionally obstructing them.
Larry continued at Mavis Richardson’s house on instructions from Isaac. ‘Keep probing,’ Isaac said. ‘What else are they withholding?’
Mavis Richardson returned with a fresh pot of tea. ‘Who were you talking to?’ she asked.
‘My boss, DCI Cook.’
‘What did he have to say?’
‘He was curious as to what else we don’t know.’
‘I’ve told you everything that I know.’
‘That may be, but until we started probing, we did not know that your sister had been married, or that her son had returned to England.’
‘We are a private family. We don’t air our dirty linen in public.’
‘But this is a murder investigation into the death of your nephew.’
‘That may be. My family, as with Montague’s, goes back hundreds of years. There are a lot of secrets during that time, secrets best kept hidden.’
Chapter 11
‘Bridget, what’s your situation?’ Isaac asked at the regular end of day meeting.
‘Apart from collating all sundry information, I’ve had a cursory look at the documents the Richardson sisters’ lawyer supplied,’ Bridget said.
‘What do you reckon?’
‘I’m not an expert, but they appear to be in order.’
‘Any transfer of money to Garry Solomon during the period mentioned by Mavis Richardson?’
‘There were some transfers to him.’
‘Can you check for a marriage certificate for Garry Solomon?’ Larry asked.
‘In India?’ Bridget queried.
‘I suppose so.’
‘Almost impossible to find unless they legalised it in England. In India, it could have just been a Buddhist ceremony on a mountain top. It would not stand up in an English court of law.’
‘Look anyway,’ Larry said.
‘What are your thoughts?’ Isaac asked.
‘If Garry Solomon had a child, legitimate or otherwise, then that child is due to inherit a substantial amount of money.’
‘It is substantial if the records are correct,’ Bridget said.
/> ‘How substantial?’ Isaac asked.
‘Gertrude Richardson may have regarded herself as a pauper, supported by a sister she abhorred.’
‘She didn’t even acknowledge that she had a sister,’ Wendy said.
‘According to the records, she still had a half-share in the mansion and five million pounds,’ Bridget said.
‘Substantial, as you say,’ Isaac said.
‘And it belongs to the widow is no longer alive. We need the will of Gertrude Richardson,’ Larry said.
‘Bridget, another job for you,’ Isaac said. ‘Check with the National Will Register. Otherwise, Montague Grenfell will have a copy.’
‘Do you trust him, sir?’ Wendy asked.
‘Not particularly, that’s why I’d prefer Bridget to see if she can find the will without letting him know.’
‘I could do with some help. I am not an accountant. It needs a skilled person to check the documentation from Grenfell,’ Bridget said.
‘Wendy, your update,’ Isaac said, momentarily ignoring Bridget’s comment.
‘Mary Solomon, the second wife of Michael Solomon, remembers meeting a Solly Michaels. She was not aware of his significance.’
‘How old would he have been?’ Larry asked.
‘The woman can be a little vague. She has led a tough life, but from memory, she remembers him as being about the same age as she was. She thought he was in his early thirties.’
‘A few years before he was murdered,’ Isaac said.
‘I will spend more time with her. Maybe she will be able to pinpoint the date more accurately.’
‘You suspect his father?’ Bridget asked.
‘We’re not forming an opinion on flimsy assumptions, not just yet,’ Isaac said. ‘We have proven that Garry Solomon was in London and that he had been in contact with his father, but not his mother.’
‘She acted as though she had not seen him since he left when he was nineteen,’ Wendy said.
‘You were there when she formally identified the body?’ Larry asked.
‘She was convinced it was him, but visual identification was not possible. The body was far too decayed. It was purely DNA and dental records that proved who it was. The shock of seeing him killed her.’
‘But you took her.’
‘It was her son. She had a right to see him.’
‘No issue from me,’ Isaac said. ‘What’s important now is to find out more about Garry Solomon. Larry, can you focus on his criminal record, known haunts, known villains that he may have been in contact with. Wendy, it may be best if you work with Bridget and see if you can find Garry Solomon’s widow.’
‘And you, sir?’ Wendy asked.
‘Three flights of stairs and Montague Grenfell again. He knows a lot more than he’s telling us.’
‘Don’t tell him we’re looking for Gertrude Richardson’s will,’ Bridget reminded Isaac.
‘Not at all, and find someone from Fraud to help you with the trust agreements and bank statements.’
***
Isaac saw clearly that Montague Grenfell was still withholding information. The murdered man and the lawyer shared a common ancestor with the father of one, the grandfather of the other. Montague Grenfell came from the legitimate line. Garry Richardson, however, came from the other side of the bed, in that his grandfather had not been legitimate. But as Grenfell had freely admitted, his father and the Richardson sisters’ father had been brought up as brothers.
Isaac understood Grenfell’s reticence, but this was a murder investigation. The time for propriety had passed, and a full and frank admission of all the skeletons in the cupboard was needed.
‘I’ve been totally open with you, DCI Cook,’ Montague Grenfell said when Isaac reminded him of the facts, and that withholding information, especially in a murder enquiry, was a criminal offence.
‘You failed to mention that you had sent money to Michael Solomon and Gertrude Richardson’s son, and you did not reveal that he had probably married in India. Do you deny that fact?’
‘Michael told me, although I had no contact with him.’
‘Garry Richardson’s wife?’
‘Michael assumed it was someone he had met at school, although he never met her.’
‘Were there any children?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Unfortunately, you have not revealed other information which we have subsequently unearthed. Is there any more that you are not telling us?’
‘I have been open with you. I gave you full access to all legal and financial documents relating to Gertrude.’
‘That is true. They appear to be in order.’
‘You will find no errors there.’
‘From what we can ascertain, Gertrude Richardson was a very wealthy woman, and subsequently her son would be. Yet you withheld that information from her.’
‘As I said before, my intentions and those of her sister were totally honourable. I have no reason to reproach myself.’
‘The woman lived in squalor.’
‘Detective Chief Inspector, we’ve been over this before. Where she lived would have been restored to a liveable standard if she had wanted. I offered enough times.’
‘And why did she refuse?’
‘She was an old woman set in her ways. She liked the squalor and the cats defecating in the house. There was no way I, or her sister, could force her to change her ways, nor would we.’
‘And what about the son? Was he entitled to any money?’
‘If he had asked.’
‘He didn’t?’
‘Never. Supposedly, he had returned from India with this woman, now his wife as a result of a wedding in a commune or on a hill top. No idea if it’s legal, but it is probably not relevant under English law.’
‘Children?’ Isaac asked.
‘I have already told you that I don’t know. It is possible. If Garry was anything like his father, then she may have had a child. We looked after Gertrude even if she did not want our help. The son was young enough to look out for himself. Where he went, I never asked or cared.’
‘Did Gertrude realise that her sister wanted to help her?’
‘Impossible to say. Mavis, as you know, is concerned with appearances and breeding. Gertrude was not bothered by any of it. As long as she had her cats and some food, then she wanted no more. It was not Mavis and me who were the issue. It was the old woman.’
‘And her money?’
‘It is in trust until probate is resolved.’
***
There seemed to be two major issues confronting the investigation. Isaac summed them up at the evening’s meeting. So far, they had managed to hold it every night during the investigation, even managed to take one Sunday off. Not that is helped with Jess O’Neill as she was gone and no longer answering his phone calls. He put it down to the fact that she was busy. Isaac, never a fan of television, had watched the programme she produced a couple of times in the last week, and it was clear that its standards had been maintained, although he regarded his opinion as subjective.
‘We need to find out about Garry Solomon’s wife,’ Isaac said. Wendy, as usual, was nominated for the task.
‘But why would someone murder him?’ Larry asked.
‘Unknown,’ Isaac answered. ‘How do we find out why? According to the family lawyer, there was no issue with money if he had come forward and asked.’
‘Then his death is illogical,’ Larry replied.
‘Any ideas?’ Bridget asked.
‘I’m not sure about their lawyer is being totally honest,’ Isaac said. It was dark outside and getting late, but he was in no hurry to get home. Larry was, as his wife was complaining about the hours he was working. Wendy’s problems were more severe as her husband’s hospital bills were way above her salary. She had secured an additional loan against her house, but she knew that it would not be long before she had to sell it.
Bridget revelled in the office environment with its endless challenges, and as lon
g as Wendy was in the office, she was happy to stay. The two women’s night out, invariably an excuse for too much gossip and too many drinks, had been postponed due to Wendy’s visits to her husband. They were scheduling again for the weekend, but the pressure of work was now starting to eat into their socialising. Not that either woman complained too much as they both enjoyed the camaraderie of the department and the challenge of the job, even if at times it could have its sad moments.
Wendy had been with Gertrude Richardson when she had looked at the mummified, skeletal remains of her son. She had also been in her mansion preparing some food when the old woman had died, and now she had two of the woman’s cats in her home, and they were still not domesticated enough to exit the house to conduct a call of nature. Bridget had her own problems at home; her layabout live-in lover, a council worker, was becoming lazier and more slovenly. She always prided herself on a tidy mind, a tidy house, and now he wasn’t even washing the dishes after inviting his equally slovenly friends over. She could see that she was about to show him the door. The two women had discussed moving in together once Wendy’s husband had passed away.
Larry, a happily married man, did not envy his DCI the lifestyle that he lived, although he knew of his reputation for beautiful women; who did not in the police station in Challis Street.
It was nine in the evening before the meeting concluded. Wendy had to leave to visit her husband, say goodnight to him, not sure if he would recognise her or not. Such a vibrant, active man in his younger days, then senility, then bitterness, and now a shell of a man ‘waiting for the final call from his maker’ as Bridget would say; not that Wendy was religious, but Bridget was. Wendy did not need the religious overtones, but it was good to have a friend who cared.
Larry took the opportunity to go home as well, promising to be in the office very early in the morning and to follow up on Garry Solomon.
Bridget, in no great hurry to go home, had another cup of coffee in her hand. ‘I’ll stay a couple of hours, do some preparation work for tomorrow,’ she said.
‘I’ll keep you company,’ Isaac said. He had no wish to hurry home. The only things that welcomed him there were a hot chocolate and a cold bed. Not the ideal arrangement, he thought.
He remembered Linda Harris’s comment, the last time they had spoken, a brief phone call when she had denied responsibility for the murder of Jess O’Neill’s boss: ‘We could have been something more.’
DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1 Page 42