DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2

by Phillip Strang

  ‘More by chance. I could see the letterbox was full, the letters no longer going through the slot, and I couldn’t take them back with me,’ Porter said.

  ‘What do you do when that happens?’

  ‘I can’t remember it happening before. Mind you, not many people get letters these days, only bills. I knew about the man inside, so I thought I’d look around, see if I could find a stick or something to push the letters through. Otherwise, he could have been lying there for God knows how long.’

  ‘The lawns are mowed regularly,’ Larry Hill, Isaac’s detective inspector, said.

  ‘You’re right, but it’s winter. Once a month would be sufficient. Strange, isn’t it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The neglected house, the garden neat and tidy.’

  ‘Is it neglected?’

  ‘I’d say so. I was here once, and I looked through a crack in one of the shutters. There was a single light in the ceiling and some old furniture, decay everywhere. It gave me a cold shiver, almost like one of those horror movies that you see on the television.’

  Isaac Cook was not sure about the man. He looked over at the letterbox, noticed that the slot was clear. If the man had found a body, why would he have cleared the letterbox? Isaac decided to say nothing. Once back at Challis Street Police Station, he’d ask Bridget Halloran to check out Jim Porter, the postman, as well as the mansion’s owner, Gilbert Lawrence.

  ***

  ‘Never a word, not Mr Lawrence,’ Molly Dempster said. She was a small woman with a slight stoop.

  Isaac Cook and Larry Hill were standing in the hallway of her house. The only information they had about the dead man had been a note to Molly, and an invoice in her name with her address as well.

  ‘That’s how Mr Lawrence liked it. I’d come in twice a week, iron and press, not that there was much to do. I’d tidy around the few rooms at the back, make him food for the next few days and put it in the fridge.’

  ‘He never spoke?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘The last time I heard him speak was over twenty years ago, and then it was only for a couple of minutes.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘A toothache. The man was in agony, and he wanted me to find him a dentist.’

  ‘And you did?’

  ‘I did. But he was generous, at least to me. And you can’t understand how good it was to have an employer who never complained, always paid on time.’

  ‘It’s still unusual,’ Larry Hill said.

  ‘You must have formed an opinion of the man,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I’ve been cleaning for Mr Lawrence for over fifty years. Back when I started, his wife was still here, a lovely woman, although she plastered on the make-up, but always beautifully dressed. Quite the picture she was.’

  ‘She’s dead?’

  ‘There were some, gossip mongers, who said he killed her, buried her in the garden, but I don’t believe that. I’d seen them together, always loving, never a cross word.’

  ‘Was there an inquiry?’

  ‘One day she disappeared, all her clothes left in the house. Mr Lawrence, he was frantic, and the police dredged the river, organised search parties, put up posters, but nothing.’

  ‘Did they eventually find her?’

  ‘Never. She was a delicate woman, subject to going a little crazy sometimes, but don’t we all. Well, not as crazy as her. Two weeks confined to her room, and then she’d be fine. In time, Mr Lawrence came to accept that she had come to some harm due to her craziness, and that was that. And such beautiful children, two of them, although I’ve not seen them in a long time.’

  ‘We’ll check the records,’ Isaac said. ‘It’s before our time.’

  ‘What about the bolted door in the house?’ Larry said.

  ‘You’ve seen how he lives?’ Molly Dempster said.

  ‘We’ve seen it.’

  ‘After Mr Lawrence’s wife vanished, he started to become morose. Can’t blame him, but before that he had been sociable, and always generous at Christmas. I had a room out the back of the house, above the garage.’

  ‘You were permanent?’

  ‘They needed someone full time.’

  ‘After his wife disappeared?’ Isaac said.

  ‘He changed. As though he could never get over it, that close they were. I started to see him less and less, and when I was in one room, he would be in another.’

  ‘Did he go out?’

  ‘Rarely. And then one day…’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘It was five, maybe six months after Mrs Lawrence had gone. There were men in the house, builders.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘They were installing the bolted door and converting the dining room into a bedroom. There was already a toilet and a small bathroom off to one side of the kitchen. The men were there for five days, and then they left. That was the last time I went past the bolted door.’

  ‘But you still work there.’

  ‘There was a letter on the kitchen sink when I arrived one day. I opened it.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  ‘It was from Mr Lawrence. He thanked me for all that I had done for the family, but he no longer needed a full-time housekeeper, although he needed someone twice a week to clean and tidy up, and to prepare meals for him.’

  ‘Your reaction?’

  ‘Stunned. But what could I say? The man had always been generous to me, and his family were my family. He gave me the address of his solicitor and a time to visit him.’

  ‘You went?’

  ‘Mr Dundas, a stern man, I never liked him. Well, he was polite, asked me to sit down, and made sure I had a cup of tea. Earl Grey, not my favourite.’

  It was clear to Isaac and Larry that the woman was glad of the company and wanted to talk. They had a body waiting to be transported to Pathology and a crime scene team at Lawrence’s mansion. They wanted to be elsewhere.

  ‘What did Mr Dundas have to say?’

  ‘He was acting under the instructions of Mr Lawrence. I was to be given a house to live in for perpetuity. It was to be furnished to my satisfaction, and I would not be required to pay for anything. Also, I would continue to receive my salary.’

  ‘You accepted?’

  ‘What else could I do? It was all a little strange, but Mr Dundas explained that Mr Lawrence wanted a life of solitude and that he wished to retire from the world. From that day on, I’ve never paid anything for my house, my salary has been paid weekly, and I’ve only ever communicated with Mr Lawrence by messages on the kitchen sink.’

  ‘He used to go to the off-licence. You could have seen him there.’

  ‘I never attempted to talk to him, and if I saw him outside the house, I walked the other way.’

  ‘Did anyone visit him?’

  ‘Mr Dundas would come, but it was sporadic. He was in the house three weeks ago.’

  ***

  Back at Gilbert Lawrence’s house, the crime scene investigators were still busy. Isaac and Larry arrived back to see the body of the dead man being removed.

  ‘Not much to tell you,’ Gordon Windsor, the crime scene examiner, said.

  Isaac knew that Windsor would tell him as much as the pathologist, but without the detailed report.

  ‘It’s murder, but I suppose that’s obvious with a knife protruding from his back.’

  ‘Fatal?’ Larry said.

  ‘Not immediately, but the dead man was in his eighties, not in great health. The cold ground would have finished him off.’

  ‘He was reclusive. We’ve just spoken to the housekeeper.’

  ‘We’re checking where he lived. Functional, but not very agreeable. Beautiful building,’ Windsor said, looking up from where he was stooped over a broken pot in the garden.

  Isaac and Larry had to agree. It was unique for the area in that the mansion was detached and it had a substantial garden.

  ‘There’s a couple of cars in the garage, although neither has moved for a lon
g time.’

  ‘What type of cars?’

  ‘Expensive. We’ve opened the door that was bolted inside the house. Be careful of the dust and the cobwebs when you go in.’

  ‘According to the housekeeper, it’s been unused for thirty years,’ Isaac said.

  ‘All that money, and mad as a hatter,’ Windsor said.

  ‘Was he?’

  ‘What else could he have been. How did he make his money, any idea?’

  ‘We’re off to see his solicitor, no doubt he had an accountant. We’ll find out, but it appears to be property speculation.’

  ‘We found a filing cabinet inside.’

  ‘We’ll need to check it out.’

  ‘We’ll leave it where it is for now. Apart from that, the main part of the building hasn’t been used, although Lawrence had been in there.’

  ‘Proof?’

  ‘Upstairs, you’d better have a look before you leave.’

  Chapter 2

  There were not many sights that Isaac and Larry could not deal with, but a dead body propped up in bed, as though it was watching the old television in the corner, was definitely one of the most bizarre.

  ‘My God,’ Isaac exclaimed as he entered the room.

  Grant Meston, Windsor’s number 2, stood to one side. ‘Mrs Lawrence, we’re assuming,’ he said.

  ‘How long?’

  ‘If he bolted the door over thirty years ago, then I’d say she’s been here that long.’

  ‘But she’s just a skeleton,’ Larry said.

  ‘That’s what happens to the human body. The hair is still there, so are the teeth, but not a lot of skin. There are relatives, I assume.’

  ‘A son and a daughter. We’re contacting them now.’

  ‘How do you tell them that their father has been keeping the dead body of their mother in the house?’

  ‘We’ve dealt with worse.’

  Isaac walked around the bed. There appeared to have been no attempt to clean the body or the bed, not even the room. A lone flower in a vase by the side of the bed was the only sign of any attempt at sanctifying the area, and it had been placed there years before.

  ‘It’s a first,’ Meston said.

  ‘For all of us. That clarifies whether Gilbert Lawrence was mentally unstable or not.’

  ‘He’s been in here,’ Meston said. ‘Probably not in the room for several months. But outside on the landing, we found his footprints.’

  ‘You’ll remove her body?’

  ‘Eventually. The body outside is more important. Mrs Lawrence, what’s her history?’

  ‘We’re still checking. What we know from the housekeeper is that Mrs Lawrence just upped and vanished one day. Apparently, she had issues. After that, the husband slowly retreated from the world.’

  ‘Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’ Meston said.

  ‘Wonder about what?’

  ‘Whether all this money’s worth having. Did you see the cars?’

  ‘No. Windsor said they were special.’

  ‘Two vintage Rolls Royces.’

  ‘They’re not really important, are they?’

  ‘No. The two bodies are.’

  ‘Then I suggest you concentrate on them,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Point taken, DCI.’

  ‘The rest of the house?’

  ‘There has been movement throughout the house, but not much.’

  ‘Gilbert Lawrence?’

  ‘It appears to be only the one person. Any suspects for his death?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ***

  ‘My father and mother were very close. Sometimes my brother and I felt left out, not that we were ever badly treated, on the contrary,’ Caroline Dickson, née Lawrence, said. Isaac could see that compared to her father’s mansion where she lived was smaller, but it was immaculate. The interior walls of the house in Chelsea were lined with paintings, and most of the furniture looked antique.

  ‘It would be better if you took a seat,’ Larry said.

  A confident and strong-willed woman, Caroline Dickson remained standing. ‘I’ve already been told about my father,’ she said.

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘Molly phoned, the first time in many years.’

  ‘How long since you’ve seen him?’

  ‘We saw him for a few weeks after our mother disappeared, but then he would walk away from us and lock himself in another room. After that, we haven’t seen him since, my brother and I.’

  ‘Not even when he was walking to the off-licence?’

  ‘Once or twice, but it was difficult. I never spoke to him, and I don’t think Ralph, my brother, did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Our father was such a dynamic man. You know what he achieved?’

  ‘Property speculation?’

  ‘Speculation is when you played the game, took a chance. With our father, there was no risk-taking. He bought property, fixed it up, and rarely sold it. He was not a man to show off, though.’

  ‘Apart from the mansion and the cars in the garage.’

  ‘He didn’t hide his wealth, although he preferred not to talk about it. He had grown up poor, a slum somewhere up north. The mansion was for him and for us. The cars were a childhood passion, not that he ever used them, but they were always polished and ready to go. After so long, no doubt they’re not looking so good.’

  ‘We still need you to sit down,’ Larry said.

  ‘My father’s been murdered. What else is there?’

  ‘Who would want to kill your father?’

  ‘No one that I would know of. Ralph and I will probably inherit, not that it means much to me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Desmond, my husband, is a fine arts dealer, very successful. We have enough money, although I wouldn’t mind one of the cars.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Desmond’s got a thing about vintage cars.’

  ‘Your brother?’

  ‘Ralph’s not had it so good. A few failed marriages, a son off the rails, and a couple of businesses that went belly-up.’

  ‘Anything else about him?’

  ‘You’d better ask him. We talk once or twice a year, but Desmond can’t stand him. Ralph, unfortunately, is his own worst enemy.’

  ‘Could he have killed your father?’

  ‘He could do with the money, but not Ralph.’

  ‘Sisterly love?’

  ‘The last time we spoke, Ralph was in Spain.’

  ‘He could have flown here.’

  ‘He’s in jail.’

  ‘What have you done about it?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last. And each time, he promises to pay us back, but he never does.’

  Isaac looked around the room where the three of them were. He could see the affluence, although an art dealer could have the antiques and the paintings on loan. An appearance of wealth did not mean that there was wealth.

  It was clear that Caroline Dickson was not going to sit down. Instead, Isaac sat down. ‘We’ve found your mother,’ he said.

  That was enough to make the woman sit and place her hand across her mouth. ‘Where?’

  ‘When was the last time you went inside your father’s house?’

  ‘Over thirty years.’

  ‘Your mother is upstairs in the main bedroom. She’s been there, we believe, for all that time.’

  ‘We thought she had disappeared, had an accident.’

  ‘Your mother is propped up in her bed.’

  ‘Dead? I suppose that’s a silly question.’

  ‘It’s not, but yes, she’s dead.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We don’t know yet. Pathology will probably give us the answers.’

  ‘Did our father…?’

  ‘Kill your mother? We don’t know either. Tell us about the day she disappeared.’

  ‘I want to see her first.’

  ‘It’s a crime scene, and your mother has lain in that bed for a very long time.’

 
; ‘I still have a right to see her.’

  ‘It’s highly irregular,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Check my records. I’m a qualified doctor. Death holds no fear for me.’

  ‘She’s your mother.’

  ‘Will you deny me?’

  Isaac called Gordon Windsor at the mansion. ‘We’ve removed her father. If, as you say, she’s a doctor, then under the circumstances, we can make an exception,’ Windsor said. ‘She could have killed her father, you know that.’

  ‘I do.’

  At the conclusion of the call, Isaac turned to Caroline Dickson. ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘I am.’

  ***

  Nobody said a word on the drive back to Gilbert and Dorothy Lawrence’s house. Isaac was in the driver’s seat, Larry beside him. In the back of the car, Caroline Dickson with her husband, Desmond. He was holding her hand. Caroline looked impassively forward, her eyes closed. Both of the police officers were unsure about the wisdom of allowing the woman to see the skeletal remains of her mother.

  Outside the neglected mansion, Caroline looked up at its foreboding frontage. ‘I’ve not been here for a long time,’ she said.

  ‘It’s not necessary to do this,’ her husband said.

  ‘It is. She’s my mother. I always hoped that one day she would walk in the door.’

  ‘You always knew she was dead.’

  ‘Is that true?’ Isaac said. He was standing to one side of the woman. In his hands he had coveralls for her to put on, as well as nitrile gloves, overshoes, and a mask.

  ‘What else could I think? She disappears, our father is beside himself, and I’m out there looking for her.’

  ‘Were you still living here then?’

  ‘I was married to Desmond.’

  ‘The house is big enough for you both to have lived here.’

  ‘We weren’t, neither was Ralph. I used to come over several times a week, although Ralph never did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My father had little time for him. Ralph had already been married and divorced by then, and he was always after money.’

  ‘Did your father help him?’

  ‘You never knew our father, or you’d not ask that question.’