same as I’m going to tell you: Joe dropped your case ages ago.’
A couple of women entered laughing. Joy glared at them as if they had personally insulted her. I knew what she was thinking: how could they be so happy when she felt so miserable over the death of her boss?
‘Why did he drop my case?’
‘He said he would never be able to find Andover unless he decided to return to England.’
‘Joe knew he’d left the country?’ I asked, surprised.
‘He must have done. He said case closed, dead end.’
After a moment I said, ‘Did Joe believe I was innocent?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And you?’
‘If Joe said you were then you are. His word is… was good enough for me.’
Had Joe known I was innocent and that was why he had convinced Joy?
‘Joy, do you know where Clive Westnam lives or works?’
She looked puzzled for a moment until I jogged her mind about who he was.
Her expression cleared. ‘No. The last I heard he’d been ousted from his position as chief executive of Manover Plastics. It was in the newspapers but I can’t recall reading anything about where he went from there.’
‘Do you know why he got the elbow?’
‘Perhaps the results weren’t good enough for the shareholders.’
‘What about Roger Brookes? Does he still live in Gloucestershire?’
‘Haven’t you heard? He’s dead.’
‘Dead!’ That shook me. It also made my heart sink with the thought that another of Andover’s victims had taken the secret of why he was being blackmailed to his grave. That only left Westnam, and for all I knew, and from what I’d discovered so far, he too could be dead. Andover seemed to be wiping the trail clean. I felt despair beginning to settle in. Was my search hopeless?
Joy said, ‘Roger Brookes committed suicide about a year ago.’
Another surprise. ‘Why suicide?’ I voiced my thoughts aloud.
Joy shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. Joe was surprised too.’ Her face clouded over again at the memory of her boss. Why hadn’t Joe, or even Miles, told me about Brookes? Perhaps Miles didn’t know.
My mind was racing. Why had Roger Brookes killed himself? Had Andover got to him again and demanded more money? Had Andover threatened to expose what he knew about Brookes? Had it really been suicide? I needed to speak to Brookes’ wife.
‘Does his widow still live in Gloucestershire?’
‘I don’t know. Sorry.’
I’d find out. It meant going there to check. I could hire a car. Having made my decision I returned to the subject of Joe’s death.
‘What cases was Joe working on?’ I asked, hoping that her answer might give me a reason as to why Joe was killed, which didn’t have anything to do with Andover or me. I was probably clutching at straws.
I could see Joy running through the files in her mind. After a moment she said, ‘There were a couple of divorces, a suspected business fraud and a child abduction case – the father has taken the little boy back to Germany and the mother wants him here in England.’
‘Anything that might have upset someone enough to kill him?’
She flinched at my choice of words; her freckled face lost its colour. ‘The police asked me that. I told them, there wasn’t. They were all the usual.’ Which, along with me showing up on the morning of Joe’s murder, would have left Crowder with the assumption that Joe’s death was connected with me. It didn’t need the brains of a professor to work that one out.
The noisy women took the table next to us and started talking about a joint acquaintance, who by all accounts, had really got up their nose by finding herself a very rich husband not six months after the old one had been laid to rest.
‘Do you mind if we get a breath of fresh air?’
Joy suddenly declared, standing up.
I was all for that. We turned out of the museum and headed east. The sun put in a fleeting appearance between racing white clouds and when it did it felt quite hot, with the promise of summer in its rays. Someone had
A couple of women entered laughing. Joy glared at them as if they had personally insulted her. I knew what she was thinking: how could they be so happy when she felt so miserable over the death of her boss?
‘Why did he drop my case?’
‘He said he would never be able to find Andover unless he decided to return to England.’
‘Joe knew he’d left the country?’ I asked, surprised.
‘He must have done. He said case closed, dead end.’
After a moment I said, ‘Did Joe believe I was innocent?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And you?’
‘If Joe said you were then you are. His word is… was good enough for me.’
Had Joe known I was innocent and that was why he had convinced Joy?
‘Joy, do you know where Clive Westnam lives or works?’
She looked puzzled for a moment until I jogged her mind about who he was.
Her expression cleared. ‘No. The last I heard he’d been ousted from his position as chief executive of Manover Plastics. It was in the newspapers but I can’t recall reading anything about where he went from there.’
‘Do you know why he got the elbow?’
‘Perhaps the results weren’t good enough for the shareholders.’
‘What about Roger Brookes? Does he still live in Gloucestershire?’
‘Haven’t you heard? He’s dead.’
‘Dead!’ That shook me. It also made my heart sink with the thought that another of Andover’s victims had taken the secret of why he was being blackmailed to his grave. That only left Westnam, and for all I knew, and from what I’d discovered so far, he too could be dead. Andover seemed to be wiping the trail clean. I felt despair beginning to settle in. Was my search hopeless?
Joy said, ‘Roger Brookes committed suicide about a year ago.’
Another surprise. ‘Why suicide?’ I voiced my thoughts aloud.
Joy shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. Joe was surprised too.’ Her face clouded over again at the memory of her boss. Why hadn’t Joe, or even Miles, told me about Brookes? Perhaps Miles didn’t know.
My mind was racing. Why had Roger Brookes killed himself? Had Andover got to him again and demanded more money? Had Andover threatened to expose what he knew about Brookes? Had it really been suicide? I needed to speak to Brookes’ wife.
‘Does his widow still live in Gloucestershire?’
‘I don’t know. Sorry.’
I’d find out. It meant going there to check. I could hire a car. Having made my decision I returned to the subject of Joe’s death.
‘What cases was Joe working on?’ I asked, hoping that her answer might give me a reason as to why Joe was killed, which didn’t have anything to do with Andover or me. I was probably clutching at straws.
I could see Joy running through the files in her mind. After a moment she said, ‘There were a couple of divorces, a suspected business fraud and a child abduction case – the father has taken the little boy back to Germany and the mother wants him here in England.’
‘Anything that might have upset someone enough to kill him?’
She flinched at my choice of words; her freckled face lost its colour. ‘The police asked me that. I told them, there wasn’t. They were all the usual.’ Which, along with me showing up on the morning of Joe’s murder, would have left Crowder with the assumption that Joe’s death was connected with me. It didn’t need the brains of a professor to work that one out.
The noisy women took the table next to us and started talking about a joint acquaintance, who by all accounts, had really got up their nose by finding herself a very rich husband not six months after the old one had been laid to rest.
‘Do you mind if we get a breath of fresh air?’
Joy suddenly declared, standing up.
I was all for that. We turned out of the museum and headed east. The sun put in a fleeting appearance between racing white clouds and when it did it felt quite hot, with the promise of summer in its rays. Someone had
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