Frieda Klein 2 - Tuesday's Gone (25 page)

‘Please, sit
down,’ said Jeremy.

Frieda sat at the table, now feeling as
though she’d arrived at an unexpected job interview.

‘Hello, Frieda,’ said Mary
Orton, with a nervous smile. ‘I’ve just made some coffee. Would you like
some?’

Frieda nodded and the old woman filled a
cup, put it on a saucer and placed it in front of her.

‘And some cake as well? I remember how
much you liked it.’

‘Yes, that’d be lovely,’
said Frieda. ‘A small piece. A bit smaller than that.’ She took a sip of
cool coffee, conscious that she was being scrutinized by three pairs of eyes.
‘Josef Morozov asked me to come,’ she said.

Jeremy folded his arms. He was evidently the
elder brother, the one in charge. ‘Yes, we talked to him. I’m sorry. Can we
go back to basics? Can you explain to us exactly what your involvement with our mother
is?’

Frieda paused. That was a surprisingly
difficult question. ‘A man who was working for your mother has been
murdered.’ She looked at Mary Orton. She felt awkward talking about her as if she
wasn’t present. ‘I was involved in interviewing Mrs Orton.’

‘Mary, please,’ said Mary
Orton.

‘Are you a police officer?’
asked Jeremy.

‘No. I’m doing some work with
them. As a sort of consultant.’

‘Do you have some
identification?’

‘Identifying me as what?’

‘As officially working with the
police.’

Frieda spoke as calmly as she could.
‘No, I don’t. If you have any questions, I can give you a number to call. As
it happens, I’m only here because Josef rang me. I assumed there was some sort of
problem.’

‘There’s all
sorts of problems,’ said Jeremy. ‘We’ll get on to that. But, first,
this man Josef, he’s here on your recommendation. Is that right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Is this an official service as part
of your police work?’

Frieda frowned. ‘No,’ she said.
‘Your mother had water leaking through the roof. Josef’s a friend of mine.
He’s good and he’s trustworthy. If you have a problem with him being here,
just tell me or him.’

The brothers exchanged looks. Robin had been
standing to one side. Now he came across and sat at the table. Suddenly Frieda felt
surrounded.

‘We’ve been having a family
conference,’ Robin said. ‘We’re not happy about what’s been
happening with our mother.’

‘Hang on.’ Frieda put down her
coffee cup. ‘I was phoned by Josef. Where is he?’

‘He’s up in the loft,’
said Jeremy. ‘You can go and see him if you want.’

‘I’ll see him in a
minute,’ said Frieda. ‘But if you’ve got some problem with him being
here, just let us know. As far as I’m concerned, he’s doing Mary a favour.
If you don’t see it that way, say so and we’ll go.’

‘I wasn’t saying
that.’

‘Why did he ring me?’

‘Well, when I arrived I was surprised
to find him here. I asked him about his plans, about costs and estimates. I should tell
you, Miss Klein, that I’m a company accountant and I know about this sort of
thing.’

‘When Josef first came here, water was
coming through the roof,’ said Frieda. ‘You should be grateful that your
mother was able to get someone so quickly.’

‘This is really a side issue,’
said Jeremy. ‘When I found this man here, what I really wanted to know was who had
arranged it and in general what’s been going on with my
mother.’

‘And what’s your view,’
asked Frieda, ‘about what’s been going on?’

‘It’s a bloody disgrace,’
said Jeremy. ‘I come down from time to time to go through my mother’s
affairs, to help her with her accounts.’

Frieda looked at the photographs on the
dresser. She remembered Mary Orton talking about her grandchildren, about how the
photographs were old, how the children would be more grown-up now. ‘When did you
last go through your mother’s accounts?’ she asked.

‘Some time ago,’ said Jeremy.
‘Six months. Before the summer holidays, I think. I live in Manchester.
Robin’s in Cardiff. We’ve both got families. We come when we can.’

‘So, last July?’ She looked at
him. ‘Seven months ago.’

‘Yes. Or June, maybe. But that’s
not the point. The point is that my mother has been the victim of a crime and I want to
establish whether it’s being properly investigated.’

‘What crime are you talking
about?’ asked Frieda.

The two brothers glanced at each other
again.

‘Are you kidding? said Robin.
‘This man Robert Poole stole more than a hundred and fifty thousand pounds from
her. He also faked the work he was doing.’

Frieda looked at their mother. She was
reminded of sitting with Michelle Doyce, of her case being discussed as if she
wasn’t there. ‘I’m not sure that this is the time or the place to be
discussing this,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’
Jeremy’s voice rose slightly. ‘We’ve discovered a theft. You’re
from the police. We want to know what’s being done about it.’

‘I’m not the person you
want,’ said Frieda. ‘You need to talk to the police directly.’

‘Then what are you
doing here?’ said Jeremy.

‘I’m here because I was asked to
come.’

‘My mother said you were the person
she talked to, that you were the person who went through her accounts and found out
about the theft. What’s your involvement?’

‘My involvement is that I help out
when I can in certain areas of my expertise.’

‘Which are?’

‘I’m a
psychotherapist.’

Jeremy looked incredulous. ‘A
psychotherapist?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who recommends builders?’

Frieda took another deep breath. She
addressed her reply to Mary. ‘I recommended Josef. If there’s been any
problem with his work or with him, please just tell me.’

‘Oh, no, no,’ said Mary Orton.
‘He’s been awfully good. I like having him in the house. He’s been
telling me about his family back in Ukraine. He’s having a difficult time, poor
man.’

‘Of course,’ said Robin,
‘she hasn’t exactly been up in the attic checking his work.’

‘You can go up to the attic,’
said Frieda. ‘And if you’ve any complaints, just tell me about
them.’

‘We’ll be checking,’ said
Jeremy.

‘Did you ever meet Robert
Poole?’ asked Frieda.

‘No,’ said Jeremy. ‘I told
you we haven’t been down here since before last summer.’

‘No,’ said Frieda. ‘You
said you hadn’t checked her accounts since then. I thought you might have brought
the children for the occasional weekend, half-term in London, something like
that.’

‘We live a long way from
London.’

‘What about you?’ Frieda asked
Robin.

‘I’ve been
occupied.’ Robin’s face had turned red.

‘And Christmas?’ Frieda said
softly. ‘What happened at Christmas?’

‘They have very busy
Christmases,’ Mary Orton said hastily. ‘Jeremy always goes skiing,
don’t you, dear? And Robin …’ Her voice trailed away. She picked at the
cuff of her jersey.

There was a small silence. Frieda turned
back to the brothers. ‘So you never happened to bump into him?’

‘No.’

‘Did you know the work was going
on?’

‘Why should we?’

Frieda gave a little shrug. ‘I just
thought that if your mother was having major building work done, you might have talked
about it on the phone.’

‘Well, we didn’t,’ said
Jeremy. ‘I can tell you that if we had, we’d have both been down here to
make sure it was being done properly.’

‘I’m sure I mentioned it,’
said Mary Orton, faintly.

‘No, you didn’t, Ma,’ said
Robin.

Frieda turned to her. ‘When we talked
before, you said your husband died a long time ago. How long have you lived
alone?’

‘Dad died five years ago,’ said
Jeremy. ‘He’s over there on the sideboard.’ He smiled at
Frieda’s puzzled expression. ‘In that wooden thing. The thing that looks
like a coffee pot. Funny thing to have in the kitchen.’

‘I talk to him sometimes,’ said
Mary Orton.

‘You want to watch what you say with
her around.’ Robin gestured at Frieda. ‘She may not approve of an old woman
talking to a box of ashes.’

‘Why wouldn’t I
approve?’

‘It probably doesn’t give good
financial advice either,’
said Jeremy. ‘On the subject of
which, how are the police dealing with this robbery?’

‘You do understand that this is a
murder inquiry?’ said Frieda.

‘And you’ll understand,’
answered Jeremy, ‘that we’re a little more concerned about the small matter
of robbery. What we want to hear from you is when our mother will be getting her money
back.’

Frieda was tempted to tell the two brothers
that all the money was gone from Robert Poole’s account, and that Robert Poole was
a stolen identity and that it wasn’t necessarily certain that the money had been
stolen anyway. But she stopped herself. ‘I’m afraid I can’t talk about
what’s happening with the inquiry. I don’t know the details myself.
You’ll have to approach the officer in charge.’ She felt grim amusement at
the idea of Karlsson having to deal with the brothers Orton.

‘You don’t sound very
sympathetic,’ said Jeremy.

‘I’m doing what I can,’
said Frieda. ‘This is not a competition but at least I helped to stop the water
coming through the roof.’

‘What do you think it’s like to
find that your mother is being cheated of her life savings?’ Jeremy actually
jabbed his finger at her as he spoke.

‘Well …’

‘It wasn’t a real
question,’ he continued. ‘I have to say that it doesn’t feel to me as
if you’re treating this like a real crime.’

‘I’m not a detective,’
said Frieda.

‘You seem to be behaving like one. You
seem pretty calm about this man taking our mother’s money.’

‘It’s not really my –’

‘And,’ he interrupted, his
colour rising, ‘that’s not all he was doing. Was it, Ma?’

‘What do you
mean?’

‘Please,’ said Mary Orton.
‘Please don’t.’

‘He was also trying to get her to
change her will, to leave a third of everything to him.’

‘What?’

‘No, Jeremy,’ said Mary Orton.
‘I didn’t … I couldn’t …’ She had gone very red.
Tears were running from the corners of her eyes.

‘That’s all right, Ma.’
Jeremy patted her hand as if she were an old dog. ‘It wasn’t your fault. The
man was controlling you. You didn’t know what you were doing.’

‘Mary,’ said Frieda, ‘are
you comfortable talking about this?’ Mary Orton nodded but didn’t speak.
Frieda looked at Jeremy. ‘Please explain. About the will.’

‘I told you. I was going through
Ma’s papers. I found letters from a solicitor. They were about drafting a new
will. Ma has the house and her portfolio, so it was quite a big deal. Fortunately she
saw the light.’

‘Mary changed her mind?’

‘No,’ said Jeremy. ‘The
solicitor didn’t go through with it. Raised objections. She probably smelt a rat.
I wish someone had done that a bit earlier. Now, getting a poor old woman to change a
will in favour of someone she barely knows, is that a crime?’

‘I don’t know,’ said
Frieda. ‘Have you met her?’

‘I read the letters. And I asked Ma
about her. She was taken advantage of.’

Frieda wanted to say, ‘Your mother is
in the room.’ Jeremy Orton was treating the old woman as if she were slightly
stupid and didn’t understand English properly. But pointing this out would only
humiliate her even more. ‘Can I see the letters?’ she asked instead.

She was addressing Mary Orton, but Jeremy
nodded at
his brother, who took a file from his bag and handed it
across to Frieda. She opened it and flicked through the official-looking letters. One
was an invoice. She felt someone close to her: Robin was reading the letter over her
shoulder.

‘Three hundred pounds,’ he said.
‘Three hundred pounds for not doing a will. I wonder what they’d charge for
actually doing it.’

Frieda saw the name at the bottom of the
letter. Tessa Welles. She wrote it down and the address. ‘It sounds like a
bargain,’ she said.

‘I know what you mean,’ agreed
Robin. ‘At least someone was looking out for my mother.’

‘Have you only just discovered
this?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Did neither of you know about the
will before?’

‘No,’ said Jeremy.

‘No,’ agreed Robin, adding,
‘Of course not.’

The kitchen door opened and Josef came in.
He seemed tired but he smiled when he saw Frieda. ‘I did not know,’ he
said.

‘I was about to come up.’

‘So, what have you been doing?’
said Jeremy.

‘The roof is fixed,’ said Josef.
‘Not fixed, proper fixed, just a patch to stop the water.’

‘Did you give my mother an estimate
for the work in advance?’

Josef gazed at Jeremy with a puzzled
expression.

‘Come to that,’ Jeremy
continued, ‘I’m not sure what you’re doing commissioning work in my
mother’s house.’

‘There was a hole in the roof,’
said Frieda, ‘and you were in Manchester.’

‘Oh, I see.’
Jeremy’s tone turned harsher. ‘You mean that you and this man were looking
after my mother and I wasn’t?’

‘Please, Jeremy,’ said Mary.
‘They were just –’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he
said. ‘What would you feel like, if someone did that to your mother?’

‘What
did
you feel
like?’ said Frieda.

‘What do you think?’

‘I am sorry,’ said Josef.
‘I am finished.’

‘Actually,’ said Mary,
‘there are some other things I hoped you could look at. The boiler’s making
a funny noise and there’s a window upstairs that won’t shut
properly.’

Josef glanced warily at Robin and
Jeremy.

‘Don’t ask me,’ said
Jeremy. ‘It’s not my house.’

‘I’ll show you.’

Mary and Josef left the kitchen together,
and Frieda looked down at her notebook, at the solicitor’s address. ‘Princes
Road. Is that nearby?’

‘It’s just round the
corner,’ said Robin. ‘Poole just took Ma up the road to the nearest person
he could find. It must have seemed so simple.’