Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

rich.’
    ‘And Patrick Henshaw followed his example? Is that what you mean?’

     
    ‘I’m afraid so. I believe he invested in Mireille as a business venture because he was bored in his retirement. But there’s no doubt George was interested in Mireille to fund his habit, addiction you might call it, and Patrick was drawn into it.’
    ‘Did his behaviour change at all as a result?’
    ‘His behaviour? No.’
    Noting a slight hesitation, Geraldine pressed him and the solicitor shrugged.
    ‘His behaviour as such didn’t change, but he was clearly stressed. He looked terrible.’
    ‘Did you have much to do with Henshaw?’
    ‘No, not really. I drew up his will for him, dealt with contracts, that sort of thing. And I saw him socially from time to time.’
    ‘Socially?’
    He smiled at her evident surprise.
    ‘Amy and my wife were friends for a time, then we drifted apart, after he bought Mireille. Socialising became difficult after that with him keeping such unsocial hours, at the restaurant every evening. There was no falling out; we just moved on.’
    Geraldine nodded.
    ‘This,’ he tapped the will on the desk in front of him, ‘makes George Corless a seriously wealthy man.’

     
    ‘And what can you tell me about the other beneficiary, Stella Hallett?’
    She waited but the solicitor didn’t respond.
    ‘What can you tell me about Stella Hallet, Mr Waterman?’
    He shook his head.
    ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about Stella Hallett. I’ve no idea who she is. I encountered her name for the first time in Patrick’s will. Other than that she’s just inherited almost a million pounds, I’m afraid I don’t know anything about her. I’ll be meeting her for the first time tomorrow, if she turns up to hear the will read.’

     
    Jonathon Waterman inclined his head before rising to his feet and crossing the room to replace the will in its drawer.
    ‘So the restaurant was left to George Corless, almost a million to Stella Hallett, whoever she is, and the wife inherits the rest of the estate which must be worth how many million?’ Geraldine asked.
    The solicitor shrugged. He sat down again and rested his elbows on the desk, his chin on his clasped hands.
    ‘The will is being read tomorrow so I don’t suppose it can do any harm if I tell you that things aren’t quite how they might appear. But you must keep this under wraps for now.’

     
    Geraldine nodded vigorously.
    ‘Of course. But what did you mean, things aren’t how they appear?’
    ‘Patrick was experiencing some difficulties.’
    ‘What sort of difficulties?’
    ‘Having amassed several millions, he retired in his mid-fifties but complained he grew bored with his newfound leisure and – well, there’s no reason I shouldn’t tell you now – he took to gambling in a serious way.’
    ‘I see. How much did he lose?’
    ‘Almost everything, apart from what he’d put into the restaurant.’

     
    ‘So his wife gets the large house in Hampstead, and that’s all he left her?’ Geraldine asked.
    The solicitor nodded uncertainly.
    ‘I see. Did she know about his financial position?’
    ‘I’m not privy to what her husband told her, but he was anxious to keep his gambling debts concealed from her, so she might be under the impression that her husband was a very wealthy man, and my guess is that she’ll be anticipating hearing that she’s extremely well off after his death. A wealthy widow.’
    ‘And is she?’
    ‘Inspector, I’m afraid I’ve already told you far more than I should have.’
    ‘Is there much equity on the house?’
    ‘Very little, I’m afraid. It’s going to come as quite a shock to Amy if she really had no idea about Patrick’s financial position.’

CHAPTER 14
     
    I t was quiet in the restaurant. The tables were laid with white table cloths and linen napkins, silver cutlery and crystal glasses. Gleaming ice buckets stood on tripods and there was an air of subdued bustle as waiters in crisp white shirts and black waistcoats glided smoothly between tables. Doubtless the prices reflected the upmarket ambience. A bald waiter approached Geraldine discreetly, his words conveyed rather than spoken.
    ‘Table for two, madam?’
    When Geraldine held up her warrant card and asked for the manager, he turned and vanished through swing doors.

     
    ‘Just look at that!’ Sam muttered.
    She stared enviously as several plates of food were delivered to a nearby table. A team of waiters materialised to