‘What happened to all the family money?’ Joe interrupted.
‘It didn’t go to Margaret. The couple died when they were very frail and elderly, and much of the inheritance disappeared in care-home costs. They’d given us power of attorney and we administered their affairs. What remained went to a cancer charity.’
‘Did you inform Margaret of their death?’ Joe asked.
Short shook his head. ‘I assumed she was still living in Poland. That was what her parents had told my father, when he was still dealing with them: that she’d gone with her husband to start a new life there. She wasn’t a beneficiary and, after all this time, it seemed too complicated to track her down.’
‘And all the time Margaret was in a flat in Harbour Street in Mardle. I wonder if she visited them in the care home.’ Vera realized that she’d finished the sherry and she set the glass on a small table.
‘You’d have to check with the staff. Certainly she never got in touch with me to find out where they were living. As I said, until she phoned the office to make an appointment, I assumed that she was still living abroad.’
Vera was baffled by this. Margaret Krukowski had been a good woman, a church-goer, yet she’d seemingly made no attempt to find out what was happening to her elderly parents, who’d lived only half an hour away from Mardle. They’d stayed at the same address until they’d moved into residential care, so it would have been easy for her to find them. Margaret didn’t seem like a woman who would hold a grudge for fifty years. After all, her parents had been right about her husband. He’d deserted her after a couple of years of marriage. Had pride been her sin then? Had she led them to believe that she was happily settled in Poland, because she didn’t want to admit that she’d been wrong, or had they spread the story to explain her disappearance?
Short continued. ‘Margaret got in touch with me out of the blue a week ago. I must admit that I was intrigued. I’d heard a lot about her, at least about the rift with her parents. I only had time to see her the day that she died. We were flying to Barcelona that evening and I tried to put her off until my return, but she insisted. “I don’t know how long I have,” she said. So I went into the office specially to meet her.’ He leaned forward in his chair. ‘She was an impressive woman. Articulate and attractive. She said that she was dying and that she wanted to order her affairs. I asked if the cancer might not be treated. There’s been so much progress in medical matters. But she said she wasn’t interested in fighting the disease. She had no desire to prolong her life.’ Vera thought she could understand that. She wasn’t a woman who stood on her dignity, but she’d hate hospital, the tests and the poking about, tubes and needles. It was the only reason she was making an effort to get fit.
‘Margaret was here to make a will?’ Joe Ashworth, wanting things clear and tidy.
Short nodded. ‘I asked about the value of her estate. She said that there was no property. “I didn’t take after my father, Mr Short. I never felt the need to accumulate houses.” But there was a little cash on deposit and, as she had no family, she wanted to make sure that it found a good home.’
‘You drew up the will for her then?’ Vera had a sudden realization of her own mortality, followed by a moment of panic. What would happen when she died, to the house that she still thought of as Hector’s, to the little cash she had on deposit? Perhaps she should make an appointment with this quiet and courteous man and make arrangements of her own. But how would she divide up her belongings? It seemed even more of a challenge than buying a Secret Santa Christmas present for a member of her team.
Short was talking. ‘No. Apart from one complication, it was all quite straightforward and she was eager to complete the business with one visit, but because of that complication I persuaded her to wait until I returned from my holiday.’
‘Can you tell us the proposed terms of the will?’
‘In the circumstances, of course. We agreed on the wording, apart from one bequest. Margaret Krukowski had fifty thousand pounds in fixed-rate bonds and ISAs with the North of England Building Society. She intended to leave ten thousand to her friend Kate Dewar,’ he looked at handwritten notes on his lap, ‘“an investment in a musical talent”. Ten thousand was to go to a charity for homeless women called the Haven, and ten thousand to “my old friend Malcolm Kerr, in gratitude for his help and support over the years”. And the remaining cash, twenty thousand pounds, to…’ he paused ‘… Deirdre Robson. I understand that she was your second murder victim. I got in touch with you as soon as I heard.’
For a moment Vera didn’t speak. Ideas and questions were spinning around her head. Fifty thousand might seem a modest sum to the lawyer, but it was considerable for a woman who’d spent the last twenty years as a glorified chambermaid and kitchen assistant. And ten thousand might be enough to save the Haven from closure. She wondered if Margaret had talked to Jane Cameron about the bequest. If she’d had second thoughts when Dee had been asked to leave the hostel.
Short went on. ‘The complication was the bequest to Miss Robson. The money wasn’t to go to her directly, but to a third party to administer the money on her behalf, to befriend and assist her, and to provide additional funds to supplement her benefits. It wasn’t a usual clause in a will, and I explained that I’d need to check the wording.’
‘Had she chosen this friend to look after Dee Robson?’ Vera wished Margaret was still alive so that she could discuss all this; Vera would have applauded the woman’s generosity and common sense.
‘It was another of the beneficiaries, Malcolm Kerr.’
Vera wondered what all that was about. Malcolm was hardly the most reliable of Margaret’s acquaintances. Perhaps she’d hoped that responsibility for Dee Robson would stop him falling apart through grief and self-pity.
Short was continuing to speak. ‘I wondered if she’d asked Mr Kerr if he was willing to take on the role. It seemed to me rather an onerous task. She said that she’d discussed it with him in general terms. I said that she should get his specific and formal agreement to the arrangement before we drew up her will.’
‘How did you leave matters?’
‘That she would talk to Mr Kerr and ask if he’d be willing to meet me. We’d even made an appointment.’ Short turned away and Vera thought that even after such a brief contact, he was mourning the death of a woman whom he’d admired.
‘What happens to the money now?’ She saw that Joe was keen to get home. He knew this was unofficial overtime and wouldn’t go on his expenses sheet.
Short gave a sad smile. ‘We try to find her next of kin. No children and no immediate family, so it won’t be easy. Certainly none of the friends she’d hoped to help will benefit.’
They sat in Vera’s Land Rover to discuss the conversation. The street was quiet. ‘Well, that doesn’t help much.’ Vera fished in her pocket for the evidence bag and offered a biscuit to Joe, who shook his head. ‘Some of the people we might have considered suspects had every reason to keep Margaret alive. If they knew what she was planning, of course.’ A young couple, their arms around each other, walked down the pavement towards them. They stopped under a street light and kissed.
‘Where did she get all that money?’
Vera thought about that. ‘If she’d been frugal, she might have saved a bit when she was working for Malcolm’s father. Left on deposit for all those years, it could have grown into something substantial.’
‘Why wouldn’t she spend it, though?’ Joe couldn’t get his head round that one. ‘Why live in that tiny flat when she had the deposit for a bigger place of her own?’