The widow was in the act of rising as they stepped into the room, which extended for the full length of the house, with double doors opening into the garden. As Payne looked along he saw a ball bounce into view, and heard a toddler’s shout, as Caan’s colleague retrieved it.
‘Don’t get up, Mrs Millbank, please,’ McIlhenney insisted. ‘I’m the local,’ he added, ‘he’s the visitor. First and foremost, we are both very sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you,’ Golda Millbank, née Radnor, said. Her voice was quiet, but strong, with no hint of a quaver. ‘Please, can you tell me what happened to Byron? All that Rita could say is that it was a brain thing.’
‘That’s correct,’ Payne confirmed. ‘An autopsy was performed; it showed that your husband suffered a massive, spontaneous subarachnoid cerebral haemorrhage. Death would have been almost instantaneous, the pathologist said.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘Last week.’
‘Last week?’ she repeated. ‘Then why has it taken so long for you to tell me?’
‘When your husband’s body was found,’ the DCI explained, ‘he had no identification on him. It took the police in Edinburgh some time to find out who he was.’
‘What does Edinburgh have to do with it?’
‘That’s where he was found.’
‘But he was supposed to be in Manchester, then in Glasgow, at a jewellery fair, and then in Inverness, visiting one of our suppliers. I don’t understand why he would be in Edinburgh.’
‘When was he due home, Mrs Millbank?’ McIlhenney asked.
‘Not until today; I expected him back this evening.’
‘When was the last time you spoke to him?’
‘On the day he left for Scotland. Byron doesn’t like mobile phones; he won’t have one. When he’s away on business, I don’t expect to hear from him, unless he sends me an email. He tends to do everything through his computer. He has a laptop, a MacBook Air. It goes everywhere with him; he says that all his life is on it.’
‘When did you meet him?’ The DCS kept his tone casual.
‘When he came to work for my parents’ business; I called in there one day, a few months after he started. Neither my father nor mother were there but he was. He introduced himself and,’ she smiled, ‘that was that.’ She shook her head. ‘He was such a fit, strong man. I can’t believe this has happened.’ She stared at McIlhenney, and then at Payne. ‘Are you telling me the truth?’ she asked. Her voice was laden with suspicion. ‘Has somebody killed my husband?’
It was Payne who replied. ‘No, absolutely not. I assure you, his death was completely natural. I can get you a copy of the post-mortem report, if it’ll help you. I can even arrange for you to speak to the pathologist, Dr Grace. She’s one of the best in the business, I promise you. If there had been any sign of violence, or anything other than natural causes, she’d have found it.’
‘Then why are you here?’ she demanded. ‘You two, you’re detectives, you’re not wearing uniforms like Rita and Molly. And you, Mr Payne, you’ve come all the way from Scotland. Would you do that if there was not something more to this?’
‘When he died, Mrs Millbank, he was unattended, not seen by a doctor,’ the DCI explained. ‘That makes it a police matter; nothing sinister, a formality really, but we have to complete a report.’
‘Very good, but such things must happen every day. For a senior officer to come down to London. . please, Mr Payne, don’t take me for a fool.’
He glanced at the DCS, who nodded. ‘Very well, there is more to it,’ he admitted. ‘Can I ask you, Mrs Millbank, how much do you know of your husband’s background, of his life before you two met?’
‘I know that he was born in Eastbourne, that he never knew his father and that his mother is dead. He spent some time in Israel, was a lieutenant in the army, but left because of his opposition to the Iraq war, worked in mail order and finally for an investment bank, before he joined Rondar. . that’s our family business.’
‘How about friends, family? Did you ever meet any of them?’
‘He has no family, and as for friends, when he left the army, he left them behind too. We have friends, as a couple, but that’s it.’
‘Has he ever mentioned a man called Brian Lightbody, from New Zealand, or Richie Mallett, an Australian? Or have you ever heard of either of them indirectly?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Those names mean nothing to me. Why do you ask?’
‘Because we know that your husband ate with them in a kosher restaurant in Glasgow, on the day he died, and that they were all registered in the same hotel, and that the other two told staff they were there for the jewellery fair.’
‘So?’ she retorted. ‘That’s your explanation surely. I don’t know everybody in the business, and if they were jewellery buyers also, they do tend to be in the same place at the same time.’
‘Sure, but. . Mrs Millbank, Lightbody and Mallett weren’t jewellery buyers, and those weren’t their real names. I’m not free to tell you at this stage who they were, but we do know, and we do know their real business.’
‘Are you saying they killed Byron?’
‘No,’ Payne insisted, ‘I am not, but they were with him when he died. There is physical evidence that one or both of them tried to revive him after he collapsed. When they failed, they removed all the identification from his body, including his clothing, and concealed him. Then, after a day or so, they called the police and told them where he could be found.’
Golda Millbank opened her mouth but found that she could not speak. She looked towards Rita Caan, as if for help. ‘Is this. .’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know any of it,’ the sergeant told her. ‘It’s not what I do. Molly and me, we’re only family support, honest.’
‘It’s true, Mrs Millbank,’ McIlhenney said. ‘We’re here to find out everything you knew about your husband and about what he did.’
‘I know all about him,’ she insisted. ‘He was a good husband and a faithful family man. Or are you trying to tell me that he had a piece on the side?’
‘Not for a second, but suppose he did, that wouldn’t be our business. Let me chuck another name at you. Beram Cohen; Israeli national. Mean anything?’
Both he and Payne gazed at her, concentrating on her expression, looking for any twitch, any hint of recognition, but neither saw any, only utter bewilderment.
‘No,’ she declared. ‘I’ve never heard of him.’ She rose from her chair. ‘I have to phone my mother. She needs to know what’s happening here.’
‘Where will she be at this moment?’ the DCS asked.
‘She’ll be at work.’
‘In that case, I’m sorry, but we’d rather you didn’t contact her.’ He paused. ‘Look, Mrs Millbank, I’m as satisfied as I can be that you know no more about your husband than you’re telling us. But let me ask you, how successful is the family business? I could find out through Companies House, but if you know, it would save time.’
She took a deep breath, frowning. ‘I can tell you that. I’m a director, so I know. Frankly, it’s been on its last legs since my father died three years ago. We’re being out-marketed by other companies and we don’t have the expertise in the company to reverse the trend. Mummy’s trying to sell it, but there are no takers.’
‘Byron wasn’t a director?’
‘No, Mummy wouldn’t allow that. She didn’t want a situation where she could be outvoted. There’s just the two of us on the board; I’m unpaid of course.’
‘How about Byron? Was he on a good salary?’
‘Thirty-five thousand. He had to take a pay cut at the beginning of last year, down from fifty.’
‘In that case, living in his house must be a stretch,’ McIlhenney suggested. ‘This isn’t the cheapest part of London, from what I’m told. How long have you lived here?’
‘We bought it when Leon was on the way, and moved in just after he was born. But it’s okay, we get by easily, because we don’t have a mortgage.’