‘Your wish is my command,’ he said. He nodded at the sheets. ‘Does that answer all your questions?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Tracey. ‘So Sam drops the technicians off and then picks them up when they’re finished?’

  ‘They phone him when they’re done,’ said Mr Connolly. ‘We tried letting them use their own vehicles but it didn’t work out.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Connolly explained that.’

  ‘Our people are completely trustworthy,’ said Mrs Connolly. ‘They might not be the best timekeepers, but they’re not thieves. And they’re definitely not killers.’

  Connolly nodded. ‘We run Disclosure and Barring Service checks on all our staff,’ he said. ‘We have to because many of the homes with pools have children. Also we look after a lot of indoor pools in second homes, so some of the owners leave the keys with us, so we have to trust our people. They’re all as honest as the day is long.’

  ‘Did you have a key for the Grenville house?’

  Connolly shook his head. ‘No. They were always in when we went round.’

  Tracey nodded as she studied the spreadsheet. ‘This all looks fine,’ she said. ‘Can we take these with us, for our records?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Mr Connolly.

  ‘So what happened on Monday?’ asked Mrs Connolly as she picked up a biscuit. ‘There wasn’t much detail in the papers. Just that there had been a robbery and someone had died.’

  ‘Yes, that’s pretty much it,’ said Tracey. ‘An insurance assessor was killed.’

  ‘Beaten to death with a poker, they said on the TV,’ said Mr Connolly. ‘And Mr Grenville took a beating too.’

  ‘I don’t know what the country’s coming to,’ said his wife. ‘We thought we’d got away from all that by moving out of London. We were mugged, in Westbourne Grove. On the way back from the cinema. Two men who said they had guns. We never saw the guns but you can’t take the risk in London, can you, so we gave them our watches and my rings.’

  ‘And my wallet,’ said Mr Connolly.

  ‘That was when we decided we’d had enough, and we moved here. But now? Okay, you don’t get mugged in the streets, but masked men breaking into houses, that’s scary.’

  ‘I think you’re still unlikely to encounter violence here,’ said Tracey.

  ‘Tell that to the Grenvilles,’ said Mrs Connolly. ‘And there have been other robberies in the area, you know?’

  ‘Yes, we are aware of that,’ said Tracey.

  ‘You need to put more bobbies on the beat,’ said Mr Connolly.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure that helps in rural areas,’ said Tracey.

  ‘We’re starting to worry about what we should do,’ said Mrs Connolly. ‘We already have an alarm system and CCTV; we’re thinking of getting a dog. A pit bull or a Rottweiler.’

  ‘Dogs can certainly deter burglars,’ said Tracey.

  ‘Meow!’ said Conrad.

  The Connollys burst into laughter. ‘That’s funny,’ said Mr Connolly. ‘It’s as if he’s talking.’

  ‘He is,’ said Lulu. ‘Probably telling you that guard dogs are overrated.’

  Tracey finished her coffee and stood up. She gathered the sheets of paper together, folded them, and put them in her handbag. ‘Thank you so much for your time.’

  Lulu bent down and Conrad jumped up onto her shoulders. ‘That is amazing,’ said Mrs Connolly. ‘I’ve never seen a cat do that before.’

  ‘Conrad is one of a kind,’ said Lulu.

  Mr Connolly took them to the front door. ‘I hope you catch those bastards,’ he said as they stepped outside.

  ‘We’ll do our best,’ said Tracey.

  Connolly closed the front door as Tracey and Lulu walked over to the Mondeo.

  They noticed a large Triumph motorcycle parked at the side of the Range Rover. Lulu raised an eyebrow and Tracey nodded. ‘I assume it’s Connolly’s. But he said he wasn’t at the party, and I don’t remember seeing him there.’

  ‘Me neither. It was just a thought.’

  ‘I suppose someone could have borrowed the bike? Driven it from here to Hepworth House.’

  ‘We need to take a closer look at the worksheets,’ said Tracey. ‘See who was here close to the time of the party. Obviously anyone who was out working isn’t a suspect, but anyone here at the house would have been able to ride the bike to the party.’

  Tracey unlocked the car and they climbed in. Lulu put Conrad on her lap. Tracey flicked through the sheets of paper that Mrs Connolly had given her. Eventually she shook her head. ‘There is no one who isn’t accounted for, which means only Mr and Mrs Connolly were here. And we didn’t see either of them at the party.’ She put the papers away. ‘To be honest, I think we’re getting close to stopping our suspension of disbelief, don’t you? The only people who might have known where their key was stored were otherwise engaged at the time of the robbery. That leaves just Julia and Bernard, and Julia wasn’t in the house.’ She started the car and slowly drove towards the road. ‘So you know what this means, don’t you? Bernard is the only one who could have taken those paintings to the filter room.’

  Lulu nodded. ‘That’s what it looks like.’

  ‘And if you take that line of thought to its logical conclusion, there was no robbery.’ She frowned. ‘But if there was no robbery, then Bernard must have killed Billy Russell.’

  ‘But that makes no sense at all,’ said Lulu.

  ‘Well, it would if Russell was there to steal from the house and Bernard discovered him. Russell attacked him and Bernard lashed out with a poker.’ Tracey frowned. ‘But then why fake the robbery? Why not just tell the police what happened?’

  ‘Maybe he thought he’d be in less trouble if the police thought there had been a robbery.’ Lulu sighed and shook her head. ‘But you realize what it means if there were no intruders? It means that Bernard must have hurt himself! He must have hit himself with the poker. I can’t believe he did that.’

  ‘Maybe Russell hit Bernard first? Maybe Russell grabbed the poker and hit Bernard, Bernard grabbed the poker and killed Russell, then hid the paintings.’

  ‘But again, if Bernard was attacked, why didn’t he go to the police?’ said Lulu. ‘Why did he fake the robbery?’

  ‘You’re sure that their company is making money?’

  ‘That’s what Julia and Bernard have been saying. You think this is about money? Some sort of insurance scam?’

  ‘Why else make it look as if the paintings had been stolen?’

  Lulu grimaced. ‘If it was about the insurance, wouldn’t he have hidden more valuable paintings? If anyone knew the value of the artwork, it would be Bernard. And none of this explains why Billy Russell was in the house.’

  Tracey accelerated down the road. ‘Maybe Bernard called Russell and asked him to come to the house. Maybe Bernard was planning some sort of insurance fraud and wanted Russell to help him. When Russell said no . . .’

  ‘What, Bernard whacked him with a poker? That’s a bit extreme.’

  ‘Maybe Russell threatened to go to the police?’

  ‘His word against Bernard’s, surely,’ said Lulu. ‘It’s no reason to kill him.’ She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. ‘None of this makes sense.’ She looked over at Tracey. ‘What about talking to Mrs Russell? We know that he was at the house on his day off, so maybe he told her why he was going.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Tracey said. ‘I’ll drop you off at the house and then pay her a visit.’

  ‘Why not strike while the iron’s hot?’ said Lulu. ‘Besides, if she was at the birthday party, maybe I’ll recognize her.’

  ‘Why would she be at the birthday party?’ Tracey’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh, you think that she might have killed Bernard out of revenge?’

  ‘If Bernard really did kill her husband, then it’s a possibility, isn’t it?’

  25

  The Russells lived in a small bungalow in the leafy residential suburb of Headington, on the east side of Oxford. There was a low wooden fence around a garden that had been concreted over to allow a grey Volvo to park. Lulu realized it was the same car that had been in front of Hepworth House. Tracey parked her Mondeo in the street and she and Lulu walked to the front door. Conrad was sitting on Lulu’s shoulders, looking around.

  Tracey pressed the doorbell and after a few seconds they heard feet shuffling along the hallway. The door was opened by a woman in her fifties, her eyes red from crying, her greying hair in disarray. She was wearing a white bathrobe and pink fluffy slippers that might once have looked like rabbits. She blinked at them and gathered the robe around her neck. ‘Mrs Russell? It’s me again, Inspector Calder. I’m sorry to bother you but we want to talk to you about your late husband.’

  ‘Have you found the man who killed him?’

  Tracey shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not.’

  Mrs Russell looked at Lulu for the first time and smiled when she saw Conrad. ‘Oh my goodness. A cat!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lulu. ‘His name is Conrad.’

  ‘He’s such a handsome boy.’

  ‘Can we come in and have a chat, Mrs Russell?’ said Lulu. ‘We won’t be long.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Mrs Russell, her eyes staying on Conrad as she shuffled to the side. Tracey and Lulu stepped into a small hall. There was an open door to their left and Mrs Russell nodded at it. ‘In there,’ she said. ‘It’s cold, I’m afraid. I can’t afford to have the heating on during the day.’

  Tracey and Lulu walked into a small sitting room with a low sofa facing a television, a pine coffee table and two small armchairs either side of a fireplace which had been blocked off with a piece of painted board. A vase of plastic flowers had been placed in the middle of the fireplace. There was a copy of a caravan magazine on the coffee table, next to some glossy brochures. They sat down on the sofa and Mrs Russell took one of the armchairs. There was a box of tissues on a small table next to her chair, and a yellow mug of what looked like tea. The room was cold and Mrs Russell sat with her arms folded.

  ‘Are you having problems with the power companies?’ asked Tracey.

  ‘Everyone is,’ said Mrs Russell. ‘It costs an arm and a leg to keep the place warm these days.’

  ‘I thought your husband was on a good salary at the insurance company?’

  ‘He used to do quite well but most of his earnings are bonuses and they’ve not been good the last few years. He never gets the good clients, that’s the problem. And his ex-wife takes half of everything he earns before I even get to see a single pound.’

  ‘Oh, is he still supporting them?’

  ‘Yes, even though it was a long time ago. Almost twenty years. She got pregnant so he had to marry her. He tried to make it work but she was a whore, forgive my language. She was unfaithful three or four times that he knew about and they had another child that I’m sure isn’t even his but when they divorced the court said she got to keep half his wages. I ask you, how is that fair?’

  ‘She never remarried?’ said Lulu. ‘His ex-wife?’

  ‘She’s too smart for that,’ said Mrs Russell. ‘She’s had a string of men friends but they never stay over. She knows that if they move in, the money will stop. She got the house, you know that? The house and half of his salary. How is that fair?’

  ‘It’s not fair,’ said Lulu.

  ‘No, it’s not. Billy kept going back to the court but they wouldn’t listen: he has to pay for her and for the two kids even though one of them . . .’ Tears brimmed in her eyes and she bent forward to pull a tissue from the box. ‘Well, there’s no more salary for her to take now, so more fool her.’ She dabbed at her eyes. She looked over at Tracey. ‘Do you think she’ll get half of Billy’s pension?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mrs Russell,’ said Tracey. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It just isn’t fair,’ she said. ‘The court isn’t fair and life isn’t fair. And now Billy has gone and I’m on my own. I don’t understand why any of this has happened.’

  Conrad jumped down off the sofa and padded across the carpet to Mrs Russell. He looked up at her and meowed. ‘What is it, boy, you want to sit on my lap?’ Conrad meowed again and she patted her knee. ‘Come on, then.’ Conrad jumped smoothly onto her lap and curled up. Mrs Russell smiled down at him and began to stroke his fur. Conrad purred and Mrs Russell’s smile widened. ‘He likes it.’ She looked over at Lulu. ‘He likes it!’

  ‘He’s a people person,’ said Lulu. ‘Well, a people cat.’

  Mrs Russell relaxed as she stroked Conrad, and the smile stayed on her lips.

  ‘I wanted to ask if your husband had any enemies, Mrs Russell,’ said Tracey. ‘Anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?’

  ‘Billy? No, everyone loved Billy. No one had a bad word to say about him.’

  ‘No problems with the neighbours?’

  Mrs Russell shook her head. ‘No. Never.’ She took her eyes off Conrad and looked at Tracey. ‘It was a robbery, those other police said. There was a robbery and one of the robbers killed my Billy.’

  ‘That’s what it looks like, Mrs Russell. But we need to make sure.’

  Mrs Russell frowned. ‘Make sure of what?’

  ‘Well, just to make sure that Billy didn’t know the men who killed him.’

  ‘Well, that doesn’t make sense, does it? Why would he know burglars? And if they knew him, why would they kill him?’

  ‘We’re just making enquiries, Mrs Russell. That’s all. Had he fallen out with any of his friends recently?’

  ‘Billy didn’t have many friends. He wasn’t what you’d call social. He was happy enough here at home, with me.’ She frowned. ‘The man who owned the house, he was attacked, too, wasn’t he?’

  ‘He’s dead now, Mrs Russell. That’s why we are making more enquiries.’

  Mrs Russell looked back at Conrad and smiled. ‘He is a lovely boy.’

  Conrad purred loudly.

  ‘Did your husband say where he was going, the day he died?’ asked Tracey.

  ‘I thought he was going to work. He had his suit on and everything. But then the day after it happened his boss Mr Drummond phoned and asked where he was. I had to tell him that Billy was dead and I got very confused because I was sure that Billy was working but Mr Drummond said no, he’d taken sick leave and that didn’t make any sense because Billy wasn’t sick.’

  ‘Had he done that before, taken sick leave when he wasn’t sick?’ asked Lulu.

  Mrs Russell nodded. ‘Sometimes. I said he was being naughty but he said that everyone did it and that you were allowed so many days a year. And it’s not as if they were paying him well: his salary has stayed the same for more than five years.’

  ‘Did Billy sometimes do work outside the company?’ asked Tracey. ‘Like freelance work?’

  Mrs Russell shook her head as she continued to stroke Conrad. ‘No. He said his home time was his home time. Work was nine to five, he said. That’s what they paid him for, and that’s what they got.’

  Lulu leaned forward and picked up the brochures that were lying on the coffee table. They were from caravan companies. ‘Oh, you like caravans?’ said Lulu.

  ‘Billy always wanted to buy one,’ said Mrs Russell. ‘We could never afford one, but he said we should start looking.’

  ‘He was planning to buy one?’ said Lulu.

  ‘He said he was but I don’t know where he thought he was getting the money from. Money has been tight and it gets tighter every year.’

  ‘When did he say he might buy a caravan?’ asked Lulu.

  ‘A few days ago, I suppose. Last week, maybe.’

  ‘Just before he was killed?’

  Mrs Russell nodded. ‘Just before, yes.’

  ‘And what did he say, exactly?’

  Mrs Russell continued to stroke Conrad. ‘He just brought the brochures home with him and said I should tell him which I liked. I just laughed, there’s no way we could afford a caravan, not in a million years.’

  ‘And what did he say?’ said Tracey.

  ‘He said that maybe he’d win the lottery, but that didn’t make any sense because we can’t afford to waste money on lottery tickets.’

  Lulu flicked through the brochures. The cheapest caravan on offer cost just under twenty thousand pounds, but some models were three times that price. ‘They look nice,’ she said.

  ‘It was just a dream of mine,’ said Mrs Russell. ‘My dad had one when I was little and we had some great holidays. “The freedom of the road”, Dad always used to say.’ She forced a tight smile. ‘It’ll stay a dream until the day I die.’

  ‘Do you think Billy was serious, about wanting to make your dream come true?’ asked Lulu.

  ‘How could he have been? We don’t have that sort of money.’ She smiled down at Conrad. ‘You are such a good boy,’ she said.

  ‘Meow!’ he replied.

  Mrs Russell laughed. ‘He understands every word, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Lulu.

  ‘Mrs Russell, did your husband have an office here? Somewhere he worked when he was at home?’

  ‘Billy never worked from home. He said that’s what the office was for; he never brought work home with him.’

  ‘Did he have a diary, then? Somewhere he’d keep a track of his meetings. I know they make him put all his meetings on the computer at work, but if he’s anything like me he’d have it written down too.’

  ‘Yes, he never trusted the computer. He always used a Filofax – it’s in the bureau.’ She gestured at the bureau in the corner of the room. Tracey went over and opened it. There was a stack of opened mail, mainly bills, and a black leather Filofax. As she picked it up she saw a glossy magazine underneath it. It was the Sunday magazine with Julia’s photograph on the cover. Tracey picked it up, showed it to Lulu and raised an eyebrow.

  Tracey put down the magazine and took the Filofax over to the sofa. She sat down and opened it, then went through the diary section. It was one page per day, and Tracey went through to the day that Russell had died. There were several entries for that day, but all had been crossed out. At the top of the page were two capital letters. BG. Obviously Bernard Grenville.

  ‘Did Billy have any visitors on the days before he died?’ asked Tracey.

 

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