DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1

by Phillip Strang

  Isaac realised that the motive was the key element. So far, that remained a mystery, although why Garry Solomon had remained detached from his mother was a concern. It had been his father that he had seen in bed with his aunt, yet for some reason he had maintained infrequent contact with the father, but not the mother.

  It was clear that the mother, Gertrude Richardson, had been eccentric, even in her younger years. It hardly seemed a reason to maintain a hatred towards her; there had to be something more.

  At the evening meeting in the office, he raised his concerns. ‘I’ve had our boss over here grilling me,’ he said.

  ‘Not happy?’ Larry asked.

  ‘What do you think?’ Wendy said. Her mood fluctuated with her husband’s condition. Today she was not in a cheerful frame of mind.

  ‘Detective Chief Superintendent Goddard is concerned that we are going nowhere with this case.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Larry said.

  ‘What do we do?’ Isaac was not a man who sat in isolation issuing commands and demanding answers. He knew that a team discussion was often the best way to come up with a resolution.

  ‘Find the motive,’ Larry’s reply.

  ‘Easier said than done,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Are we certain that it’s a family member?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Who else knew about Bellevue Street, and why has the body been undisturbed for so many years?’ Isaac replied.

  ‘Records indicate occupancy of the house since 1987 when the body was incarcerated in the fireplace,’ Bridget said.

  ‘Detailed records?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Not totally. The house had been divided up for most of the time as low-cost accommodation, each bedroom equipped with a fold-down bed and a basic kitchen.’

  ‘What about the room where the body was found?’

  ‘No information on that.’

  ‘Who would know?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘The family lawyer,’ Larry said.

  ‘I don’t think he will be too pleased to see me after the last time we met.’

  ‘It doesn’t concern you, does it, sir?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Not at all. Tomorrow morning, I will go out there with Larry.’

  Again, the answers gravitate towards Montague Grenfell, Isaac thought.

  ‘Wendy, Bridget, focus on Montague Grenfell: family history, background, personal relationships, financial information. Whatever you can find.’

  Both of the women nodded their affirmation.

  Chapter 16

  The next day at nine in the morning, Larry and Isaac drove out to Montague Grenfell’s office. Isaac prepared to march briskly up the stairs to his office. He managed the first two flights before stopping abruptly. There, at the base of the third flight of stairs, a man’s crumpled body, the head at an awkward angle. Larry quickly dialled 999 for an ambulance, although he could see it was a formality.

  ‘Another body for you,’ Isaac said on the phone to Gordon Windsor.

  ‘Identity?’

  ‘Montague Grenfell.’

  ‘I’ll be there within fifteen minutes,’ Windsor said.

  ‘This changes everything,’ Larry said after Isaac had ended his phone call. Larry called the local police station. They were sending around a uniformed police officer to be stationed outside, and a local detective to secure the scene.

  ‘It depends on if it was murder or not,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Any doubt on your part?’

  ‘The man had one leg. It’s possible he slipped.’

  ‘Or was pushed.’

  ‘Let’s wait for Gordon Windsor. He’ll be able to tell us.’

  ‘We need to meet Bridget and Wendy to discuss this,’ Larry said.

  ‘Agreed, but first we need to meet Mavis Richardson. She needs to be told, once Gordon Windsor has brought us up to speed.’

  Isaac phoned his boss. ‘It’s just become a lot more complicated. Garry Solomon was an old murder; this one is recent, and they are both related.’

  His boss’s reaction: ‘Wrap this up soon. Grenfell was well connected. There are bound to be more questions, and the media will be sticking their collective noses in again.’

  Fifteen minutes later, Gordon Windsor arrived. He donned his overalls, gloves, and mask before approaching the body.

  ‘Broken neck,’ he said, even before kneeling down to examine the body.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Judging by the angle of the neck, I would say that I am correct.’

  ‘Is it the cause of death?’

  ‘Probably, but I will need to conduct my examination, and then the autopsy will confirm if it was or not. Whatever the cause, he died here.’

  ‘Was he pushed?’ Larry asked.

  ‘Give my team sixty minutes, and it should become clearer.’

  Isaac and Larry, realising that there was no more to be gained from their presence, left the scene.

  Grenfell’s family needed to be informed. Bridget would be able to supply the contact details. It was known that Montague Grenfell had no children and his wife was dead.

  Mavis Richardson was excited when she first met Isaac, although deflated when told the reason for his visit.

  ‘Were you close?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘I trusted him implicitly,’ she replied. She had sat down in a corner chair, showing every year of her advanced age. It was the first time that Larry had seen her like this. He went to pour her a brandy, leaving Isaac alone with the old woman.

  ‘I’m told that you had known him since you were children.’

  ‘He was like a brother to me.’

  ‘And he handled all your financial matters?’

  ‘Totally. He had a proxy to act on my behalf.’

  ‘Did he have many friends?’

  ‘None that I know of. He was very close to his wife, but she has been dead for a few years.’

  ‘Family?’

  ‘Two brothers.’

  ‘Do you have their contact details?’

  ‘The elder brother, the lord, but he’s senile.’

  ‘And the younger brother?’

  ‘I don’t know where he is. I liked the elder brother, but not the younger.’

  ‘Any reason why?’

  ‘He was the black sheep of the family: always gambling, whoring, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Do you have anyone you can call to come over and be with you?’

  ‘I have plenty of friends. At my age, you get used to people dying. Is it murder?’ Mavis asked.

  ‘It is too early to speculate,’ Isaac replied. ‘Any reason to believe that it might be?’

  ‘Not really, but Garry had been murdered. I wondered if it was related.’

  ‘We have not made a connection between the two deaths yet.’

  ‘But you will.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Larry asked.

  ‘Montague knew everything. If you wanted to keep our family secrets, then all you had to do was rid yourself of Montague.’

  ‘Secrets worth killing for?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘None that I know of.’

  Isaac wondered if the woman knew something that she was not telling him, but realised she probably did not. She was a old woman, feeling every one of her eighty-five years, and just talking.

  ‘Did Garry know any secrets?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘He may have found out something, but I don’t know.’

  ‘Are you hiding some information from us?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why talk about secrets?’

  ‘Garry died, Gertrude died, and now Montague.’

  ‘Are you assuming they are related?’

  ‘Not really. I’m only sorry that I never saw Gertrude before she died.’

  ‘You cared about her?’

  ‘Of course I did.’

  ‘And Garry?’

  ‘He was her son. Personally, I did not care for him, but I always made sure that he came to no harm, and that he had money and a place to live when he ne
eded it.’

  ‘You knew about his marriage and child?’

  ‘Montague kept a look out for him, hired a private investigator sometimes.’

  ‘And the rest of Garry’s history?’

  ‘The prison terms, the house in Greenwich, and Barbara Ecclestone. Yes, I knew.’

  ‘And Kevin Solomon?’

  ‘He’s always had someone watching out for him, although he never knew it. Who do you think paid for his drug rehabilitation?’

  ‘Very generous of you.’

  ‘Not generous. That’s what families do for each other; at least, my family.’

  ‘What about Garry’s wife?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘She’s fine.’

  ‘Any contact with her?’

  ‘None, but she lived with Bob Hampshire for many years. He treated her well.’

  ‘You knew him?’

  ‘I met him once or twice, nothing more. I even met Emily, or Emma as she calls herself now. There’s nothing to make of it. We moved in the same social circles, that’s all.’

  ‘Did Emma Hampshire know who you were?’

  ‘No. I was known as Mavis O’Loughlin.’

  ‘Constable Gladstone went to Ireland.’

  ‘She met Ger?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s dying,’ Mavis said.

  ‘You know?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘His daughter phoned, asked if I wanted to visit him.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I declined.’

  ‘But you wanted to?’

  ‘Yes, but he has his family with him. I spoke to him on the phone for five minutes. That’s another one who’s dying.’

  Mavis Richardson then made a phone call. Five minutes later, another old woman arrived. ‘Sheila will stay with me. Would you please leave.’

  Larry and Isaac could see that there was another person who was going to die soon. The recent events had sapped the life out of the woman. Larry felt sad as he left the house.

  ***

  Wendy and Bridget were in the office when Isaac and Larry arrived. Wendy was looking more cheerful, a clear indication that her husband had been more cheerful than on her previous visit to see him.

  ‘What can you tell us, Bridget?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Montague Grenfell was the second son of Lord Penrith. The other sons are Albert, the eldest and the current lord, and Malcolm, the younger. According to reports, the current Lord Penrith is close to death. Malcolm is the result of a second marriage of the previous lord to a younger woman.’

  ‘The younger son’s mother?’

  ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘Someone needs to tell the Grenfell family about Montague,’ Isaac said.

  ‘A job for you, sir,’ Wendy said.

  ‘What else, Bridget?’

  ‘All three men are childless. The title will expire on the death of Malcolm. On the passing of the eldest son, the title would have passed to Montague Grenfell. The records indicate that Lord Penrith has no money, other than a stately home and the money to maintain it. Montague Grenfell was only affluent due to his own abilities.’

  ‘Where can we find Lord Penrith?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Leicestershire,’ Bridget answered.

  ‘Wendy, are you up to meeting aristocracy?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘I’ll need to practise my curtseying,’ Wendy replied.

  ‘Larry, can you follow up with Gordon Windsor and check out the crime scene at Bellevue Street again? See if you can figure out how a body lies undisturbed for thirty years.’

  ***

  Sue Baxter was not pleased to see DI Larry Hill. ‘I thought we were free of you,’ she said.

  ‘It is still a crime scene,’ Larry said.

  ‘One room is.’

  ‘As you say, one room.’

  Larry noted that renovations were proceeding. A body in the fireplace had given the place some notoriety and the house had been renamed ‘The Mummy’s Recline’, a somewhat macabre reference to the body’s condition and its position.

  The room where the body had been discovered had been sealed off with metal bars, and police signs to the effect that it was a crime scene. Otherwise, the house had a sense of normality, a television on in another room, a dog barking, and the sound of children. He was not sure that he would want to live in a house where there had been a violent murder, but the Baxters appeared to have no issues.

  ‘Can you tell me about the first time you wanted to enter the room?’ Larry asked. He had moved with Sue Baxter to the modern kitchen at the rear of the house.

  ‘It was sealed with a metal grille. It took us some time to get it off.’

  ‘Was there any explanation given why?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Did it concern you?’

  ‘We thought it strange, but the house was in our price range, and the location was excellent.’

  ‘When you first entered the room, any sense of foreboding?’

  ‘None at all. We just thought it was a lovely room.’

  ‘No smell?’

  ‘It was musty. We opened the windows, and it soon freshened up. I dusted the room; ran a wet mop over the floorboards.’

  ‘No suspicion as to why the fireplace was covered?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It seems unusual.’

  ‘All the bedrooms had covered fireplaces. It had been sublet for years.’

  ‘We’re at a loss as to why someone would have expected the fireplace to have remained untouched for thirty years,’ Larry admitted. ‘It seems crucial to know. To us, it seems illogical.’

  ‘We wondered as well,’ Sue Baxter said.

  ‘Any thoughts?’

  ‘You’re the police officer, what do you think?’

  ‘Did you keep the grille?’

  ‘It’s down in the basement.’

  ‘I’ll get someone over to look at it. Make sure it remains untouched,’ Larry said.

  Chapter 17

  Lord Penrith, as Wendy and Isaac found out on their arrival at his home, a decaying remnant of Georgian architecture, was beyond caring about his younger brother or anyone else.

  ‘His mind has gone,’ Katrina Smith, the pretty young nurse who had shown them into his lordship’s bedroom, said. The man was propped up in bed, a television in the corner showing a melodrama.

  ‘Anyone else in the house?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘There’s a cook and a handyman. Apart from that, no one.’

  ‘Who employed you?’

  ‘Montague Grenfell. I met him in London, but apart from that he has not been near. I have a bank account to draw from as needed. Each month, I send him an itemised list of my costs, and he ensures to put my salary into my account. To be honest, it’s a cushy number, although it will not last for much longer.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘His lordship is dying. He could go anytime.’

  ‘And when he does, what do you do?’

  ‘I’m to phone the local police and the local undertaker. After that, I am to phone the family doctor and Montague Grenfell, the new Lord Penrith.’

  ‘Except that he won’t be,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Why’s that?’ Katrina Smith asked.

  ‘Unfortunately, Montague Grenfell has died.’

  ‘He seemed a nice man.’

  ‘What will you do now?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Hopefully, someone will pay the bills, but anyway, I’ll stay for now. I’ve grown fond of Lord Penrith, even if he doesn’t remember me one day to the next.’

  ‘There’s another brother,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Malcolm.’

  ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘The proverbial black sheep of the family. Every aristocratic family has one of them, as well as a ghost or two in the stately home,’ Katrina Smith said. Isaac had to admit he liked her humour, even under trying circumstances.

  ‘Have you seen any?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Late at night when the wind blows it can be e
erie, but no.’

  ‘You don’t believe in the possibility?’

  ‘A healthy sceptic. If there are any here, I’ve not seen them.’

  ‘What about Malcolm? Any ideas as to where he may be?’

  ‘Montague Grenfell would have known, but I’ve no idea.’

  ‘You said he was the black sheep of the family?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Montague Grenfell mentioned him when we met in London. He asked me to phone him if Malcolm turned up. Apart from that, he told me nothing.’

  It was ten in the evening when Isaac and Wendy left Lord Penrith’s residence. There seemed little reason to spend the night in Leicestershire. They arrived back in London just after midnight.

  Wendy had noticed Katrina Smith handling Isaac’s business card, and saying she would give him a call the next time she was in London. She saw Isaac smile in return. Wendy knew Isaac would not be on his own for much longer.

  ***

  Gordon Windsor was on the phone early the next morning. ‘The door frame to Grenfell’s office has scuff marks from his clothing, indicative of his being manhandled through it. And then, there are marks where he had attempted to force his shoe hard against the wall at the top of the stairs. We also found two sets of shoeprints that show a conflict situation.’

  ‘The evidence is convincing enough to hold up in a court of law?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘The final report will state that he had been forced to the top of the stairs, and almost certainly pushed down them.’

  ‘The broken neck killed him?’

  ‘Yes. There was a clear break above the fifth cervical vertebra. If he had not died instantly, he would have died soon after from asphyxiation.’

  Isaac phoned DCS Goddard. He was over within minutes.

  ‘What are you going to do about this?’ Goddard asked. ‘The Penriths are an important family in this country. History goes back for centuries. There’s bound to be media scrutiny.’

  ‘Lord Penrith is close to death, and now his brother has been murdered’ Isaac said.

  ‘What has the media been told?’

  ‘We have made no official statement.’

  ‘Who could have killed Grenfell?’

  ‘We don’t know.’

  ‘Well, you’d better find out soon.’