I didn’t see how all this information was going to be of any use to me, but I sat quietly and listened as she unburdened her emotions.
“How come you and Herb fell out?” I asked in one of the frequent pauses.
“He refused to come home from New York for the funeral when Dad died. I said he should be there to support Mom, but he refused, and he said he wouldn’t come to her funeral either if she dropped down dead tomorrow. Those were his exact words. And Mom heard him say them because she and I were in my car and the call was on speakerphone.” She paused, and more tears ran down her cheeks. “I still think it’s the reason why she did it.”
“Did what?” I asked.
“Swallowed a whole bottle of Tylenol Extra. A hundred tablets.”
“Dead?” I asked.
She nodded. “That night. I found her in the morning.” She sat up straight and breathed in deeply through her nose. “I accused Herb of killing her, and that’s when I told him I never wanted to see or hear from him again.”
“How long has it been since your parents died?”
“About six years, maybe seven.” She thought for a moment. “It’ll be seven years in June.”
“When did you change your mind?”
“What? About contacting Herb?”
I nodded.
“I didn’t. It was he who contacted me, about two years ago.” She sighed. “Five years was a long time not to speak to your twin brother. I had wanted to be in touch with him much sooner, but I was too proud.” She paused. “Too stupid, more like. He wrote to me at the hotel company, and we arranged to meet in New York. Then last summer he invited me to come to England and stay with him for a holiday. It was great.” She smiled. “Just like old times.” The smile faded and the tears began again. “I just can’t believe he’s dead.”
Neither could I.
I finally arrived at the office at twenty past one, a time when I reckoned Gregory should be just sitting down to his substantial lunch at the far end of Lombard Street. However, I approached number 64 from the opposite direction to the one he took to his usual restaurant in order to minimize the chances of running into him if he was late.
I ignored the lift, sneaked up the emergency stairway to the fourth floor and put my head around the glass entrance door. “Has Mr. Gregory gone to lunch?” I whispered to Mrs. McDowd, who was sitting at the reception desk.
“Ten minutes ago,” she whispered back.
“And Mr. Patrick?” I asked.
“Went with him,” she replied. “Both gone for an hour at least, probably two.”
I relaxed and smiled at her. “Maybe I’ll just stay for an hour.”
“Very wise,” she said with a grin from ear to ear. “Now, tell me, is it true what it says in the paper?”
“No, of course not,” I said.
She gave me one of her “I don’t believe you” looks. “You must have done something or it wouldn’t be on the front page.”
“Mrs. McDowd, it’s nothing. I promise you.”
She curled down her mouth as if she was a spoilt child who had failed to be given an ice cream. I ignored her, walking past the reception desk and down the corridor beyond. As I passed by, I glanced through the ever-open door of the Compliance Office, but Jessica Winter was not at her desk. Jessica was one of those who always went out for her lunch hour, as Herb had done, though in his case it was not to eat but to work out at a local gym.
I went on and into my office, not that I had it completely to myself. There were five cubicles crammed into the small room, one of which was mine. Herb had been next to me, both of us close to the window, while Diana and Rory, Patrick’s other assistants, occupied the two cubicles nearer the door. The fifth cubicle was no one’s specific personal domain but was used by any visiting staff, usually an accountant for two days a week, and Andrew Mellor, the lawyer, if he needed a desk. Today it was empty.
Diana was out to lunch, as usual, while Rory was sitting at his desk, typing with one hand on his computer keyboard while holding a half-eaten sandwich in the other.
“My God,” said Rory with his mouth full. “The invisible man returns. Gregory’s been looking for you all morning. You’re in real trouble.” He sounded as if he was rather pleased about it, and I could see a folded copy of the Racing Post lying on his desk. It had probably been him who had shown it to Gregory.
“You haven’t seen me, all right!” I said.
“Don’t involve me in your sordid little affairs,” he said rather haughtily. “I’m not putting my career at risk for you.”
Rory could be a real pain sometimes.
“Rory,” I said. “When, and if, you ever qualify to be an IFA, you can then start talking about your career. Until then, shut up!”
Rory knew that I knew that he had failed his qualifying exams twice and he was now in the Last Chance Saloon. He sensibly kept quiet.
I took off my suit jacket and hung it on the back of my chair. Then I sat down at Herb’s desk and pulled open the top drawer.
“What are you doing?” Rory asked somewhat arrogantly.
“I’m going through Herb’s desk,” I said. “I’m his executor and I’m trying to find the address of his sister.” He wasn’t to know that Herb’s sister was in Hendon. Rory ignored me and went back to his one-handed typing.
There was no sign of Sherri’s address but there were two more MoneyHome payment slips lurking in a drawer and this time not torn up into squares. There was also another of the sheets with handwritten lists on both sides, just like the one Chief Inspector Tomlinson had shown me in Herb’s flat. I carefully folded them all up and put them in my pocket.
Apart from that, the desk was almost too clean. No screwed-up papers or chocolate bar wrappers.
I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I was amazed there had been anything at all. I would have expected the police would have stripped it completely bare on the Monday after his death.
I looked around the cubicle. Some of the staff personalized their bulletin boards with family pictures or souvenir postcards sent by friends on holiday, but there had never been any such personal items pinned to Herb’s, not even a picture of Sherri. There was only the usual mandatory company telephone directory, and a small key pinned to the board with a thumbtack. I looked at it closely but left it where it was. A key without a lock wasn’t much use.
And there was nothing of interest in his wastebasket either, as it was completely empty. It would be. Even if the police hadn’t emptied it, the office cleaners had been there since Herb had last sat at this desk on the previous Friday afternoon.
I walked along the corridor and put my head right into the lion’s den.
Now, Gregory, as a senior partner, did qualify for an office of his own, but, fortunately for me, this particular lion was still out to lunch. I sat down in his chair and looked at his computer screen. As I had hoped, he hadn’t bothered to log out from his session when he went to lunch. Most of us didn’t. The office system was great when it was working, but it took so long to boot up that we all tended to leave it on all day.
I typed “Roberts Family Trust” into Gregory’s computer, and it instantly produced the details of the file on his screen with the date of the original investment prominently displayed at the top. The access list in the right-hand corner showed me that Gregory himself had looked at the file only that morning, at ten twenty-two a.m. precisely, no doubt in a lull from searching the offices for me. I just hoped he wouldn’t notice that his computer had accessed it again at one forty-six p.m.
However, it was one of the other names on the recent-inquiry list I found most interesting. It showed that Herb Kovak had accessed the file just ten days previously. Now, why had Herb looked at one of Gregory’s client files? It would have been most improper, just as it was for me to be looking at it now. Perhaps Herb had also had some suspicions about the Bulgarian investment. I wondered what they had been. It was too late to ask.