Em chips in. ‘Sometimes people resort to hating each other because they can’t admit the alternative.’
Lulu looks at her. ‘I’m their daughter. I’m pretty sure they just classic hated each other.’ Either Charli was lying, or there was more going on in Lulu’s absence than they’d let on to their daughter.
‘How has your mother been since your father’s death?’
‘I mean, fine. She’s got super-clingy, though, as if someone’s going to, like, come after me. I guess this thing with Faisal and then the thing with Dad have got to her a bit.’
‘What about his work? Did you know any of his colleagues?’
‘There was Rob – Rob Wallace. He came over all the time when I was little. But he and Dad fell out in a big way a few years ago. Dad was livid. Rob said he wasn’t pulling his weight. Wanted to take his name off the firm. He only kept it there because Dad legally owned enough of it to stop him. And he admitted it sounded better having two names. Made it sound distinguished.’ Another row between Harcourt and Wallace. First this one, then the one Mrs P eavesdropped on a few weeks ago.
‘Can you imagine anyone wanting to take his life?’ I ask. ‘Anyone he argued with?’
She shakes her head. ‘I mean, he argued with everyone. But no, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to murder him.’ The M word brings us all up short, as if his body is in the room with us.
Em moves things along. ‘Do you know anything about your father’s finances?’
‘I know he was broke. He wasn’t earning much at the firmbecause Rob kept him off the good jobs. He threatened to leave but never did anything about it. He was always telling me that Mum got everything but the country house in the divorce, and if it wasn’t for that he’d have nothing.’
‘Where did he live in London?’
She shrugs. ‘Hotels, I think? He was in the country most of the time.’ Interesting. Clearly Lulu didn’t know about the flat in Battersea, and I bet Charli didn’t either.
‘Are you aware of what will happen to his estate?’
‘I saw his will a few years ago. I’m pretty sure it all goes to me.’
‘You’re right, Lulu.’
‘Does that make me asuspect?’ There’s a slight tremor in her voice, but despite that, she sounds bored saying it. I have to say, we’ve properly screwed up the Gen-Zedders. They can’t even be a lead suspect in a murder investigation without treating the whole thing with heavy irony.
‘We’re not the police, Lulu. We just want the truth. And I don’t think you’re really a suspect at all.’ It’s a good line of Em’s, especially because she doesn’t mentionwhywe want the truth (to save our own necks). ‘So, you’re the main beneficiary of your father’s will?’
‘Yeah.’ Lulu gets out her phone and scrolls through a few photos. I can see from her screen that there’s text on there.
‘Is that your father’s will?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. My godfather sent it over, he’s doing all the executor shit. He’s being a real pain, actually. Keeps on getting in touch, telling me it’s important we find some time to catch up. Dad wanted me to be properly close with him, too. He keptbanging on about it lately. Even a few days before he … before it happened, he rang me up telling me he was going to take me and Ben to lunch so we could reconnect. Hang on, here’s the will. “The principal residence, any other properties and outbuildings—”’
‘Wait. What?’
She looks baffled. ‘He’s left me all his stuff.’
‘Yes, but did you say outbuildings?’
‘Yeah. I mean, there isn’t one, not at the house in Bridling. It’s probably just, like, a legal term or something? Like, if he had built one, or whatever.’ I stare at her as hard as I decently can, but I’m convinced she doesn’t have any secret knowledge. Nobody’s that good a liar, and I should know, because I’ve been working on it my whole life and even I would struggle to summon up the complete bovine disinterest Lulu’s currently dishing out.
Em takes over before the pause gets awkward. ‘Have you spoken to the police?’
‘On the phone. They’re coming down tomorrow.’
Em holds out her phone. ‘You ever seen this guy?’
‘No. Should I have?’
‘He’s a person of interest.’ As Em draws her arm back, I can see she’s got a photo of Mr Bowling Ball, taken outside what looks like Davy’s building in London. How on earth did she have the presence of mind to get that shot? ‘If you see him, he’s trouble.’
‘Worse than Faisal?’
