“This is too complicated for me now, Elizabeth,” admits Donna.
“Forget Hillcrest for now, and forget Gordon Playfair; they’re red herrings. What that folder tells you are two key things. Firstly, Ventham double-crossed Tony Curran the day before Curran died.”
“Agreed.”
“And secondly, listen carefully to this. Tony Curran’s shares have all reverted back to Ian Ventham.”
“Tony Curran’s shares pass back to Ian Ventham?”
“They do,” confirms Elizabeth. “If you want to put a figure on it, something simple to tell Chris Hudson, our expert says Tony Curran’s death just earned Ian Ventham around 12.25 million pounds.”
Donna gives a low whistle.
“Which sounds an awful lot like a motive to me,” continues Elizabeth. “So I hope this is helpful?”
“It is helpful, Elizabeth. I’ll let Chris know.”
“Chris, is it?” says Elizabeth.
“I’ll let you get back to sleep now, Elizabeth; sorry for ringing so late. And I’m grateful for what you’ve done. And it’s cute you keep saying ‘our expert’ instead of ‘Joyce’s daughter.’ Very loyal. I promise we’ll look into it.”
“Thank you, Donna, and no comment. When you’re over next, I would like you to meet my friend Penny.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth, I’ll look forward to it. Can I ask why you wanted to know what time Tony Curran died?”
“Just idle curiosity. I think Penny will like you very much. Night-night, dear.”
38.
The morning sun is rising in the Kent sky.
“Ibrahim, if you keep driving at twenty-nine miles per hour, this whole exercise will be moot,” says Elizabeth, her fingers drumming on the glove box.
“And if I crash on a sharp bend, the exercise will also be moot,” says Ibrahim, eyes fixed on the road, intending to remain steadfast.
“Would anyone like a Mini Cheddar?” asks Joyce.
Ibrahim was tempted, but he liked to have both hands on the wheel at all times. Ten and two.
Ron was the only one of them who had a car, but there had still been an argument about who was going to drive. Joyce hadn’t had a license for thirty years, and so was out immediately. Ron had put up a token fight, but Ibrahim knew he had lost his confidence on right-hand turns and would be secretly delighted to be voted down. Elizabeth put up more spirited opposition, mentioning that she still held a fully valid tank license. She really could play fast and loose with the Official Secrets Act at times. But in the end it all came down to this: Ibrahim was the only one who understood how the satnav worked.
It had been Elizabeth’s idea, he was happy to grant her that. They knew, somehow, that Ian Ventham had left Coopers Chase at exactly three p.m., and they knew that Tony Curran had been murdered at 3:32. Ibrahim had had to explain to everyone what a Fitbit was. And so here they were, timing the journey in Ron’s Daihatsu. Ibrahim knew they could have just plotted the journey on the satnav, but he also knew no one else realized that, and he had fancied the drive. It had been a long time.
So Ibrahim is behind the wheel. Joyce and Ron are happily sharing their Mini Cheddars in the backseat, Elizabeth has stopped drumming her fingers and is now texting someone on her phone, and everyone had been to the toilet before they left, as per Ibrahim’s instructions.
Could Ian Ventham have made it from Coopers Chase to Tony Curran’s house in time to kill him? If he couldn’t, then they were barking up the wrong tree. They were about to find out.
39.
Okay, folks, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Another early morning, and Chris Hudson’s murder squad is assembled, in various stages of dishevelment. Chris has brought in Krispy Kremes from the petrol station garage, and they are doing brisk business. He goes through what he’d discovered from the Thursday Murder Club, and what Donna had told him about the file, after she’d buzzed on his door at eleven p.m. They’d talked about it over and over, and then watched the first episode ofNarcosseason two with a bottle of red. Donna had invited herself over, and Chris had wondered if this was just what constables were like in London these days. You had to hand it to her, she knew how to make a quick impression.
“Ian Ventham, Tony Curran’s business partner, broke some bad news to Curran less than two hours before the murder. He was cutting him out of a development that would extend Coopers Chase, a retirement village out near Robertsbridge. This would have cost Curran a lot of money, and his death has made Ventham even more money. Over twelve million. The two men were seen having an argument shortly before Curran returned home. Did he threaten Ventham? Did Ventham decide it was better to be safe than sorry and send someone round? We know that Curran was killed at three thirty-two last Tuesday, but when did Ventham leave Coopers Chase that day?”
“Where’s this info from?” asks a young DI, Kate something.
“Sources,” says Chris. “Where are we on traffic cameras, Terry? You’ve got Ventham’s reg number?”
