Read Online Last Reminder by Stuart Pawson - Free Book Online Page A

confirmed.
    ‘And that’s nearly impossible to prove.’
    ‘Mmm.’
    He did the routine with the sweeteners again, complete with grimace.
    ‘Why don’t you use sugar?’ I suggested.
    ‘Empty calories.’
    ‘You could always eat one less biscuit.’
    ‘Don’t be so bloody self-righteous. So I can tell Les Isles that we don’t need his help and we can wind up the enquiry and put the troops back where they belong – keeping the streets tidy, eh?’
    I shook my head. ‘I want to keep on with it,’ I declared. ‘Tell Mr Isles that it’s not murder, but Goodrich is – was – up to his neck in something, and I want to find out what it was. A murderenquiry gives me the licence I need to knock on doors. Doors that otherwise would be slammed in my face.’
    Gilbert said, ‘And where does the coroner fit in with this little scheme of yours?
    ‘You have a word with him. Don’t you have a lodge meeting, or something, where you could collar him?’
    Gilbert rolled his eyes. ‘We’re in the same bloody golf club,’ he stated.
    ‘You don’t play golf,’ I reminded him.
    ‘I’m a social member, same as he is. They have the best selection of whiskies in the county. If I have a word with him it will be in office hours, not over the Macallan.’
    ‘OK. Thanks.’
    ‘I said “if.”’
    ‘We need the inquest adjourning, indefinitely,’ I said. ‘If no next of kin turn up it shouldn’t be a problem. I want to find out who the Jones boys are, and where all that money came from.’
    ‘Right, but I want DS Newley back, running operations, and most of the staff.’
    ‘No problem, but I’ll need Sparky, Maggie, young Caton, and Maud at least.’
    ‘It’s a deal. We’ll start winding down tomorrow, and you can have until the end of the week.’
    ‘The end of the week!’ I gasped, dismayed. ‘That’s not long enough!’
    Gilbert held his arms out, like John the Baptist on the banks of the Jordan. ‘I’m on holiday next week,’ he announced. ‘You’ll be in charge. What more can I say?’
    ‘Right,’ I said, nodding and smiling. ‘Right.’
    I had an hour at the keyboard, typing my own version of events, and read a financial magazine that I’d bought on the way in, swotting up the difference between a PEP and a TESSA, in case anybody asked me. Fraud Squad was still working through the files when I called at Goodrich’s house. We’d decided it would be easier to work from there, rather than hump all the files to the nick, where we didn’t have room for them. I noticed that they’d commandeered a kettle and his tea-bags.
    The rest of the house already smelt of disuse – death, even – or was my imagination playing games with me? I wandered through the rooms, trying to read the mind of a man I’d never met. He was obviously well off. The pans in the kitchen were by Le Creuset. I’d heard of them because Annabelle told me that she’d just bought one, and he had a full set. I put the Dieffenbachia back in its bowl and ran some water into it. The curtains in the other rooms were made of a heavy silken material, elaborately ruffled and brocaded, with ropes to open and close them. The dining room seated eight around a polished mahogany table, with a captain’s chair for the head of the household. It all looked unusedunder a thin patina of dust, as if the place had been sealed until the master came home from the war. The decor throughout was by Barratt, out of Harewood House. Upstairs the slim-hipped slack-lipped young men still held their poses, and a red admiral had died of exhaustion against a window. I opened drawers, felt down the back, found an unopened packet of twelve condoms, long past their use-by date, and gave an uneasy nod of recognition.
    Sparky came looking for me. Maud and Brian had identified the banks that Goodrich used, and went off to put the willies up the managers. It’s a stiff sentence for not reporting suspicious cash transactions.
    As soon as they’d gone I asked,