Death of a Gentle Lady - M. C. Beaton [22]
He shrugged. ‘Didn’t bother me. I’ve always worked for my living.’
‘As what?’
‘Motor mechanic.’
‘I gather that your late uncle, Byron Gentle, was extremely wealthy. Is your family wealthy also?’
‘Dad’s dead. He ran a corner shop. When Byron died, he left everything to Aunt Margaret.’
‘That must have caused a lot of bitterness.’
Again that shrug. ‘Mum was dead. Dad didn’t live long enough to get bitter. He got cancer shortly after Byron died. I sold the shop and set up my own garage doing car repairs.’
‘Why do you think Mrs Gentle changed her mind about leaving you any money?’
‘Blessed if I know.’
‘Were you fond of your aunt?’
‘I admired her. She was very cunning. Do you know, she was a cloakroom girl in a London nightclub when Byron fell for her? She didn’t always have that lady-of-the-manor act.’
Jimmy looked down at his notes. Mark was forty-eight years old. He looked much younger.
‘You look good for your age,’ said Jimmy.
Mark smiled. ‘Clean living and early nights.’
‘Where were you during the past five days?’
‘At my work. I employ two men who can vouch for me, not to mention my customers.’
‘And after work?’
‘I was with my girlfriend, Sharon Bentley. You can check with her.’
Jimmy pushed forward a sheet of paper. ‘Write down her name and address.’
When Mark had jotted it down, Jimmy continued to question him, feeling all the time that he was being stonewalled. At last he told the man not to leave the country and dismissed him.
When the door had closed behind Mark, Jimmy said, ‘Now, that one really had a motive. He bumps the old girl off and Irena finds out about it and …No, that won’t do. Irena was dead before Mrs Gentle was killed.’
A policeman put his head around the door. ‘The lawyer’s here.’
‘Send him in.’
The lawyer introduced himself as Mr Poindexter of Poindexter, Bravos and Dunstable. He said their offices were situated in Inverness. Mrs Gentle had visited them a year previous to draw up her will.
‘What were the conditions of the will?’ asked Jimmy. ‘And how much was she worth?’
‘With this building, stock and shares, and so on, close to twenty-five million pounds.’
‘And how was it to be left?’
‘Fifty per cent to her son, Andrew Gentle, thirty per cent to her daughter, Sarah, and twenty per cent to her nephew, Mark.’
‘Did you know she planned to make a new will, leaving her estate divided equally between her son and daughter?’
‘No, this is the first I’ve heard of it. I learned from your superintendent that you would be wishing to see me, and so I came straight here. Perhaps I should take the opportunity to have a few words with the family if they are not too distressed.’
‘I don’t think any of them are grieving at all,’ said Jimmy.
‘Where is Mr Daviot?’ asked Hamish when the door had closed behind the lawyer. ‘I thought he was taking over.’
‘Our Supreme Being has decided that I should do the interviews first, then he’ll take over and interview them all again.’
Sounds of a screaming altercation faintly reached their ears. ‘Someone’s not enjoying the news about that will,’ said Hamish. ‘You know what is puzzling me? Twenty-five million pounds is a great deal of money, yet if Byron Gentle was a top financier, it doesn’t seem much.’
‘It was at the time he died,’ said Jimmy. ‘Let’s have the daughter in.’
Sarah erupted into the room, wild-eyed with distress. ‘I want you to arrest Mark right away,’ she howled. ‘He’s your murderer.’
‘Have you any proof of that?’ asked Andy MacNab, speaking for the first time.
‘It stands to reason. She was going to change her will, and he would have got nothing.’
‘Please sit down, Mrs …is it Dewar?’
‘Yes, I’m divorced.’
‘Where were you during the past week?’
‘I was down in Edinburgh looking for a job.’
‘Do you have proof of that?’
‘I stayed at a rotten little bed-and-breakfast, put my name down with Jipson’s employment agency in Leith Walk, and went for various interviews.’
Jimmy gave her a sheet of paper and a pen. ‘Just write down where you are staying in Edinburgh and the exact address of the agency.’