“And yet she left you nothing in her will.”
“As a matter of fact, she did.”
“But we understand that she was leaving her money equally divided between her son and daughter.”
Mark gave a lazy smile. “That was her intention. But the old will still stands, and in it I get a whack of money.”
“Do the rest of the family know this?”
“I shouldn’t think so. Aunt Margaret confided in me a lot.”
“We’ll check with her lawyer,” said Jimmy. His foxy blue eyes narrowed. “You must have been right put out when you learned you were going to be cut out.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t bother me. I’ve always worked for my living.”
“As what?”
“Motor mechanic.”
“I gather that your late uncle, Byron Gentle, was extremely wealthy. Is your family wealthy also?”
“Dad’s dead. He ran a corner shop. When Byron died, he left everything to Aunt Margaret.”
“That must have caused a lot of bitterness.”
Again that shrug. “Mum was dead. Dad didn’t live long enough to get bitter. He got cancer shortly after Byron died. I sold the shop and set up my own garage doing car repairs.”
“Why do you think Mrs. Gentle changed her mind about leaving you any money?”
“Blessed if I know.”
“Were you fond of your aunt?”
“I admired her. She was very cunning. Do you know, she was a hatcheck girl in a London nightclub when Byron fell for her? She didn’t always have that lady-of-the-manor act.”
Jimmy looked down at his notes. Mark was forty-eight years old. He looked much younger.
“You look good for your age,” said Jimmy.
Mark smiled. “Clean living and early nights.”
“Where were you during the past five days?”
“At my work. I employ two men who can vouch for me, not to mention my customers.”
“And after work?”
“I was with my girlfriend, Sharon Bentley. You can check with her.”
Jimmy pushed forward a sheet of paper. “Write down her name and address.”
When Mark had jotted it down, Jimmy continued to question him, feeling all the time that he was being stonewalled. At last he told the man not to leave the country and dismissed him.
When the door had closed behind Mark, Jimmy said, “Now, that one really had a motive. He bumps the old girl off and Irena finds out about it and…No, that won’t do. Irena was dead before Mrs. Gentle was killed.”
A policeman put his head around the door. “The lawyer’s here.”
“Send him in.”
The lawyer introduced himself as Mr. Poindexter of Poindexter, Bravos and Dunstable. He said their offices were situated in Inverness. Mrs. Gentle had visited them a year previous to draw up her will.
“What were the conditions of the will?” asked Jimmy. “And how much was she worth?”
“With this building, stock and shares, and so on, close to twenty-five million pounds.”
“And how was it to be left?”
“Fifty per cent to her son, Andrew Gentle, thirty per cent to her daughter, Sarah, and twenty per cent to her nephew, Mark.”
“Did you know she planned to make a new will, leaving her estate divided equally between her son and daughter?”
“No, this is the first I’ve heard of it. I learned from your superintendent that you would be wishing to see me, and so I came straight here. Perhaps I should take the opportunity to have a few words with the family if they are not too distressed.”
“I don’t think any of them are grieving at all,” said Jimmy.
“Where is Mr. Daviot?” asked Hamish when the door had closed behind the lawyer. “I thought he was taking over.”
“Our Supreme Being has decided that I should do the interviews first, then he’ll take over and interview them all again.”
Sounds of a screaming altercation faintly reached their ears. “Someone’s not enjoying the news about that will,” said Hamish. “You know what is puzzling me? Twenty-five million pounds is a great deal of money, yet if Byron Gentle was a top financier, it doesn’t seem much.”
“It was at the time he died,” said Jimmy. “Let’s have the daughter in.”
Sarah erupted into the room, wild-eyed with distress. “I want you to arrest Mark right away,” she howled. “He’s your murderer.”
“Have you any proof of that?” asked Andy MacNab, speaking for the first time.
“It stands to reason. She was going to change her will, and he would have got nothing.”
“Please sit down, Mrs…is it Dewar?”
“Yes, I’m divorced.”
“Where were you during the past week?”
“I was down in Edinburgh looking for a job.”
“Do you have proof of that?”
“I stayed at a rotten little bed-and-breakfast, put my name down with Jipson’s employment agency in Leith Walk, and went for various interviews.”
Jimmy gave her a sheet of paper and a pen. “Just write down where you are staying in Edinburgh and the exact address of the agency.”
Hamish spoke up from his corner. “You must have been very angry when your mother threw you out.”
“What are you talking about? Mother was devoted to me. But I wanted my independence.”
“I overheard her telling you to get out,” said Hamish. “It was on the day I called on your mother.”
Sarah glared at him, finished writing, and then said defiantly, “Well, no one wants to admit to having been sent away.”
“It would be as well to stick to the truth,” said Jimmy harshly. “You were suddenly forced into finding work. What had you done before by way of employment?”
“I married young but got divorced two years ago.”
Again Hamish’s voice. “And you blamed your mother for the divorce. What happened?”
All the truculence and defiance left Sarah, and she seemed to crumple. “I had an affair, just a brief fling. I don’t know how Mother got to know of it but she told Allan, my husband. I hadn’t ever worked so I told her she owed me and she could keep me.”
“That seems a good reason for murder,” said Jimmy.
“My own mother! Don’t be stupid.”
“Now, about the maid, who we now know was called Irena. Was there anything that happened at the family party that she might have overheard and used to blackmail someone?”
“No, but she caused a lot of trouble. Mark was flirting with her and so was Andrew.”
More questioning, and then she was allowed to leave.
“Now what?” asked Jimmy. “The children, I suppose. Neither of them married. We’ll have John in first.”
John Gentle drifted in and sat down opposite Jimmy.
He seemed to be thinking of something other than the interview. He gazed dreamily at the ceiling while Jimmy restarted the tape recorder and read out his name, age, and address.
“Where were you during the last five days?” asked Jimmy.
John studied his nails. Then he said, “In my studio in London.”
“You are an artist?”
“Yes.”
“Have you witnesses?”
“My friend, Robbie. He lives with me.”
“I want you to write down his full name and also where you were in the evenings.”
John bent over the paper and began to write slowly. Hamish studied him curiously. When the family had first arrived, John had looked frightened. Not any more. He was almost too calm.
When he had finished, Hamish asked, “Have you taken tranquillisers?”
“Oh, yes. Lots. My nerves are delicate, you know.”
The questions continued, and John answered them all in the same dreamy manner.
He was finally dismissed and told to send his sister in.
♦
What a name to be cursed with, thought Jimmy, when you’re a stocky, tough-looking girl. Her large, almost swollen lips were somehow unnerving.