As she did so, Jackson wandered into the library. Leaned against the door jamb, dark blue eyes gleaming with excitement, a happy smile barely disturbing his lips.
‘I hate to see you like this, Lionel.’
Lionel, by now wailing with rage, looked fit to explode.
‘Wait.’ Jackson strolled across the room and rested a calming hand on Lionel’s arm. ‘If you must break into other people’s property—’
‘You don’t understand!’ shouted Lionel.
Jackson turned his face from the gust of sour wine and reeking, unwashed skin. He was very fastidious about that sort of thing.
‘And stop shouting. You’ll have half the village out.’
‘It’s all right for you . . .’ Lionel attempted to soften his voice, with little success. ‘What’s going to happen to me? Where shall I go?’
‘You don’t even know Mrs L’s made a will.’ Jackson’s grip tightened slightly. ‘In which case, as her legal better half, you’ll be laughing.’
Lionel gave a single piercing cry. ‘I thought I was safe here.’
‘Let go,’ said Jackson. He sounded patient, not unkind just weary, like a parent who’d had enough of a favourite child’s tantrums. ‘I’ll do it.’
Lionel released the drawer and stood, arms swinging loose by his sides, staring. Jackson produced a knife from the pocket of his jeans. A click and the short, narrow blade sprang out, shining. He inserted it behind the lock, gave a sharp twist and the drawer sprang open. It was full of papers.
Lionel seized them and started to read. Jackson could see the heading Friends Provident, the words separated by a blue rose. After a few minutes Lionel had shuffled through all the pages and flung them also to the floor.
‘All to do with her trust fund.’ He was very near to tears and struggling for breath. ‘She’s always been very tight with that, Jax. I wanted her to buy a little flat, give a temporary home to youngsters struggling to make a new life. People like yourself. But she was adamant. There’s so much selfishness in the world, meanness, don’t you find?’
‘I don’t like to hear you being disloyal, Lionel. I’ve always thought Mrs L basically a very sincere person.’ It was probably with her solicitor. Or the bank. ‘I think you need some breakfast. Cheer you up a bit.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Plus a wash and brush-up. OK, I got “no change” from the hospital this morning but things could have altered by dinner time. What if you was allowed to visit this afternoon? You can’t go in looking like that. Come on.’ He took Lionel’s damp and unresisting hand. ‘Jax will make you a nice piece of toast.’
‘You’re so good to me.’
‘Richly deserved, to my mind, Lionel.’
‘You won’t go away?’
‘Try and make me.’
Barnaby’s appointment with Richard Ainsley was for ten o’clock. They were shown straight into his office and offered tea which Barnaby declined. The bank manager’s face was grave as befitted the matter under discussion.
‘A most dreadful business. I can still hardly believe it.’ His distress was plainly genuine. A fact explained by his next words. ‘I have known the family thirty years. Ann, Mrs Lawrence, was seven when I first started handling her father’s affairs.’
Barnaby had not been aware of that but rejoiced in the knowledge. One never knew what would be grist to the investigative mill.
‘Then I’m sure you will be doubly anxious to help us, sir.’
‘Of course I am. But how is it possible? A random, violent attack—’
‘We’re not sure that it was random.’
‘Oh.’ Ainsley’s expression changed then. Became immensely cautious and somewhat apprehensive. He sniffed and stared intensely at his visitors as if etheric traces of the crime might still be drifting about their persons.
This reaction from the public was not uncommon. Barnaby smiled encouragingly and said, ‘I can assure you that anything divulged during this interview will be in complete confidence.’
‘Ah.’ Richard Ainsley looked warily at Troy sitting near the door, notebook balanced discreetly on his knee. ‘Well . . .’
Barnaby jumped in at the deep end. ‘We have reason to believe that Mrs Lawrence was being blackmailed.’
‘So that’s—’
‘That’s what?’
But Ainsley withdrew immediately, like a limpet into its shell. ‘You must understand, Chief Inspector, my customer’s financial affairs—’
‘Mrs Lawrence is undergoing an emergency operation, Mr Ainsley, even as we’re sitting here. A positive outcome is far from certain. Now, I can go to a magistrate, get the relevant piece of paper and come back for the information you are withholding. But time is of the essence here. I urge you to co-operate.’