Dead Man's Time

the truth is my husband doesn’t have his father’s business acumen. He’s lost a lot of his father’s money over the years in trying to
diversify the business – you probably know the antiques trade isn’t what it used to be. Lucas set up a large bar and restaurant in Brighton which failed. He’s sunk big sums of
money into other businesses and for one reason or another they didn’t work out. When he came into the business, Gavin Daly Antiques was one of the biggest dealers in the UK – they had
six stores in Brighton and two in London. Now they have just the one.’
    Grace nodded. ‘What about the relationship between your husband and Aileen?’
    ‘I’m afraid the old man rather poisoned his sister against Lucas. He convinced her to cut him out of her will.’
    ‘Why did he do that?’
    She hesitated. ‘I rather feel I’m talking out of turn.’
    ‘You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.’
    ‘I think he felt Lucas needed a reality check. That if he inherited a large amount from her, he’d just blow it. Squander it.’
    ‘Families and money,’ Grace said with a wry smile.
    ‘Maybe this terrible thing will bring Lucas and his father closer together.’
    ‘But you and Aileen got on well?’
    ‘Yes, Aileen and I got on very well. I used to pop in and see her every now and then – and she’d pour me a massive sherry! She was fiercely independent, still going really
strong at ninety-eight. Her brother’s amazing for ninety-five – they have some good genes in that family, for sure. And they’ve been through a lot in their lives.’
    ‘Oh? Such as?’
    ‘They were born in New York. Their father was, I guess, what you’d call a gangster. He was high up in the White Hand Gang. One night their mother was shot dead by a bunch of men who
entered the house – they actually went into Gavin’s bedroom first, then they shot the mother dead and took the father away. Gavin and Aileen never saw him again. A few months later an
aunt took them to Ireland, thinking they’d be safer there than in New York. Then in their teens – I suppose that must have been in the early thirties – their aunt met and married
a man from Brighton and they moved over here.’
    Grace listened intently, the books he had seen in Aileen McWhirter’s study starting to make sense now, together with the conversation he had had with Gavin in the garden. Then he walked
over to the cabinet, and peered in at the trophies. ‘Are these yours or your husband’s, Mrs Courteney?’
    She blushed slightly. ‘All of them are mine – mostly broadcasting, and a couple of tennis trophies and one for Salsa dancing. I go to classes – a good way of keeping fit.
Actually I’m Mrs
Daly
, but Courteney is my professional name.’ She gestured for them to take a seat, then sat on the sofa opposite them, crossing her bare feet, and looked at
them expectantly.
    ‘We need to have a word with your husband, Lucas,’ Grace said. ‘I understand he’s away at the moment.’
    ‘For the weekend.’
    ‘Where’s he gone?’ DS Batchelor asked.
    ‘Marbella. A boys’ golfing trip.’
    ‘He’s a regular golfer, is he?’ Grace asked.
    She hesitated. ‘He’s a social golfer.’
    ‘What club is he a member of locally?’
    Suddenly, she looked very uncomfortable. ‘Umm, well, you know, he only plays occasionally. Societies, mostly. I’m not actually sure what club he’s a member of here – I
don’t know for sure if he is actually a member of any of them.’ She hesitated. ‘I mean – he plays at different ones.’
    ‘Very expensive game,’ Guy Batchelor said. ‘I nearly gave up membership to my club because I don’t play enough. It would be cheaper just to pay green fees.’
    ‘Does your husband play regularly in Spain?’ Grace asked.
    ‘No – not at all.’ She shrugged, looking increasingly uneasy. ‘He – we – used to have a place in Puerto Banus and we still have friends there.’
    She showed none of the confidence she exuded on air as a newscaster, as she nervously twisted her wedding band. Grace was almost certain she was lying. Covering up for her husband. Covering what
up?
    ‘So he doesn’t often make you a golf widow?’ Grace said with a smile.
    ‘No.’ She smiled, then shot a pointed glance at her watch.
    ‘We’ll be gone in just a second. When will your husband be back?’
    She hesitated. ‘Sunday. Late Sunday.’
    Guy Batchelor handed her his card. ‘I wonder if you could ask him