Jason opened the folder and skimmed through the information Lucy had summarised. ‘Does he buy stocks and shares?’
‘Next page.’
He turned the page and ran his eyes down the list of companies in which his father owned shares. There, as he’d suspected, was the evidence of his connection to the company Helen worked for, in the form of shares, but whether this represented a small or large share would depend on the total number of shares issued, and Lucy hadn’t provided him with that information.
‘What’s the size of his share in Ransome’s?’ He turned the folder around and pointed to the listing for the auction house.
Lucy gave it a cursory glance, then regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Well, he’s on the board of directors, so I’d say that his interest is more than just an investment.’
‘How long has he been on the board for?’
‘Oh, about twenty years, I’d say. What’s your interest?’
‘I know a girl who works there.’
‘A nice girl?’
‘Very nice. Her mother worked there too.’
‘Worked?’ Lucy pounced on his use of the past tense.
‘She was murdered. Twenty years ago.’
Lucy paled. ‘You’re not suggesting …?’
‘No, I’m not, but Dad’s taking a very keen interest in this girl, and I want to know why.’
‘Well, he would be if you are,’ Lucy observed. ‘You know that.’
Jason shook his head. ‘It’s more than that. I think he knows why this woman was murdered.’
‘Oh, come off it. If he knew, he’d have gone to the police.’
‘Not if money was at stake. You know that.’
Back at work on Friday, Bill fussed over Helen and practically forced her to drink a cup of tea before starting.
‘I heard you were ill. Better now?’
‘Yeah, thanks.’
The tea was strong and milky and with three sugars, which Bill, like Charlie, insisted was the perfect pick-me-up. Helen hated sugar in her tea but didn’t have the heart to tell him.
Besides, it was nice having someone who cared.
‘It wasn’t anything I said, was it, love?’ he asked. ‘You know, all that stuff about your mother?’
‘Of course not. The thing is, I …’
How would Bill react if he knew about her condition? When to confide was always a problem. But she suspected that Bill knew more about what Mimi had been involved in than he was admitting. If she opened up a little, he might do the same.
‘I suffer from epilepsy.’ There, she’d said it. ‘Sometimes I have seizures. No one knows why but in me there’s a connection between that and over-excitement. I have to eat properly too and get enough sleep. Pace myself, if you like.’ She smiled. ‘And I mustn’t forget my medication.’
‘I know, I was around when you were little, remember?’
‘You knew? But you didn’t say anything.’
‘It never made no difference to me, love. We are what we are.’ Bill took her hand. ‘Look, I’m sorry for yelling at you. Life’s been pretty crap for you, hasn’t it, what with you losing your parents, and them lot shunting you from one home to another like you were worthless. And don’t bother defending them. I know all about it. There’s precious few secrets you can keep around here. Especially your gran, that heartless old witch. Fancy treating a child like that.’
‘She had her reasons.’
‘Wanted to get ’er hands on your shares, I wager.’
‘I think she was trying to protect me.’
‘Hah!’
‘No, seriously, think about it. Where was I when my mother died?’ She stared hard at him.
‘You were a witness,’ he said when the penny dropped.
‘Except whoever did it might not have known about my epilepsy. He or she didn’t know that I hadn’t actually seen anything. Because I was out.’
Bill frowned. ‘“He or she” you say, but wasn’t it that woman … sorry, can’t remember her name, but wasn’t it some personal thing? A jealousy drama?’
‘I used to think so.’
‘You think it has to do with something your mother knew?’
‘Yes.’
‘About what went on here back then?’ he continued.
She nodded.
‘Jesus Christ, love!’ He got up abruptly and started pacing the cracked lino floor, running his hand back and forth across his bald pate. ‘If you know what’s good for you, you stop right there.’
‘Names, Bill. Dates, places, overheard conversations. Anything you can think of.’
‘No.’ He scowled at her.
‘Please.’