‘I wasn’t saying that.’
‘Why did he ring me?’
‘Well, when I arrived I was surprised to find him here. I asked him about his plans, about costs and estimates. I should tell you, Miss Klein, that I’m a company accountant and I know about this sort of thing.’
‘When Josef first came here, water was coming through the roof,’ said Frieda. ‘You should be grateful that your mother was able to get someone so quickly.’
‘This is really a side issue,’ said Jeremy. ‘When I found this man here, what I really wanted to know was who had arranged it and in general what’s been going on with my mother.’
‘And what’s your view,’ asked Frieda, ‘about what’s been going on?’
‘It’s a bloody disgrace,’ said Jeremy. ‘I come down from time to time to go through my mother’s affairs, to help her with her accounts.’
Frieda looked at the photographs on the dresser. She remembered Mary Orton talking about her grandchildren, about how the photographs were old, how the children would be more grown-up now. ‘When did you last go through your mother’s accounts?’ she asked.
‘Some time ago,’ said Jeremy. ‘Six months. Before the summer holidays, I think. I live in Manchester. Robin’s in Cardiff. We’ve both got families. We come when we can.’
‘So, last July?’ She looked at him. ‘Seven months ago.’
‘Yes. Or June, maybe. But that’s not the point. The point is that my mother has been the victim of a crime and I want to establish whether it’s being properly investigated.’
‘What crime are you talking about?’ asked Frieda.
The two brothers glanced at each other again.
‘Are you kidding? said Robin. ‘This man Robert Poole stole more than a hundred and fifty thousand pounds from her. He also faked the work he was doing.’
Frieda looked at their mother. She was reminded of sitting with Michelle Doyce, of her case being discussed as if she wasn’t there. ‘I’m not sure that this is the time or the place to be discussing this,’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’ Jeremy’s voice rose slightly. ‘We’ve discovered a theft. You’re from the police. We want to know what’s being done about it.’
‘I’m not the person you want,’ said Frieda. ‘You need to talk to the police directly.’
‘Then what are you doing here?’ said Jeremy.
‘I’m here because I was asked to come.’
‘My mother said you were the person she talked to, that you were the person who went through her accounts and found out about the theft. What’s your involvement?’
‘My involvement is that I help out when I can in certain areas of my expertise.’
‘Which are?’
‘I’m a psychotherapist.’
Jeremy looked incredulous. ‘A psychotherapist?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who recommends builders?’
Frieda took another deep breath. She addressed her reply to Mary. ‘I recommended Josef. If there’s been any problem with his work or with him, please just tell me.’
‘Oh, no, no,’ said Mary Orton. ‘He’s been awfully good. I like having him in the house. He’s been telling me about his family back in Ukraine. He’s having a difficult time, poor man.’
‘Of course,’ said Robin, ‘she hasn’t exactly been up in the attic checking his work.’
‘You can go up to the attic,’ said Frieda. ‘And if you’ve any complaints, just tell me about them.’
‘We’ll be checking,’ said Jeremy.
‘Did you ever meet Robert Poole?’ asked Frieda.
‘No,’ said Jeremy. ‘I told you we haven’t been down here since before last summer.’
‘No,’ said Frieda. ‘You said you hadn’t checked her accounts since then. I thought you might have brought the children for the occasional weekend, half-term in London, something like that.’
‘We live a long way from London.’
‘What about you?’ Frieda asked Robin.
‘I’ve been occupied.’ Robin’s face had turned red.
‘And Christmas?’ Frieda said softly. ‘What happened at Christmas?’
‘They have very busy Christmases,’ Mary Orton said hastily. ‘Jeremy always goes skiing, don’t you, dear? And Robin …’ Her voice trailed away. She picked at the cuff of her jersey.
There was a small silence. Frieda turned back to the brothers. ‘So you never happened to bump into him?’
‘No.’
‘Did you know the work was going on?’
‘Why should we?’
Frieda gave a little shrug. ‘I just thought that if your mother was having major building work done, you might have talked about it on the phone.’
‘Well, we didn’t,’ said Jeremy. ‘I can tell you that if we had, we’d have both been down here to make sure it was being done properly.’
‘I’m sure I mentioned it,’ said Mary Orton, faintly.
‘No, you didn’t, Ma,’ said Robin.
Frieda turned to her. ‘When we talked before, you said your husband died a long time ago. How long have you lived alone?’
‘Dad died five years ago,’ said Jeremy. ‘He’s over there on the sideboard.’ He smiled at Frieda’s puzzled expression. ‘In that wooden thing. The thing that looks like a coffee pot. Funny thing to have in the kitchen.’
‘I talk to him sometimes,’ said Mary Orton.
‘You want to watch what you say with her around.’ Robin gestured at Frieda. ‘She may not approve of an old woman talking to a box of ashes.’
‘Why wouldn’t I approve?’
‘It probably doesn’t give good financial advice either,’ said Jeremy. ‘On the subject of which, how are the police dealing with this robbery?’
‘You do understand that this is a murder inquiry?’ said Frieda.
‘And you’ll understand,’ answered Jeremy, ‘that we’re a little more concerned about the small matter of robbery. What we want to hear from you is when our mother will be getting her money back.’
Frieda was tempted to tell the two brothers that all the money was gone from Robert Poole’s account, and that Robert Poole was a stolen identity and that it wasn’t necessarily certain that the money had been stolen anyway. But she stopped herself. ‘I’m afraid I can’t talk about what’s happening with the inquiry. I don’t know the details myself. You’ll have to approach the officer in charge.’ She felt grim amusement at the idea of Karlsson having to deal with the brothers Orton.
‘You don’t sound very sympathetic,’ said Jeremy.
‘I’m doing what I can,’ said Frieda. ‘This is not a competition but at least I helped to stop the water coming through the roof.’
‘What do you think it’s like to find that your mother is being cheated of her life savings?’ Jeremy actually jabbed his finger at her as he spoke.
‘Well …’
‘It wasn’t a real question,’ he continued. ‘I have to say that it doesn’t feel to me as if you’re treating this like a real crime.’
‘I’m not a detective,’ said Frieda.
‘You seem to be behaving like one. You seem pretty calm about this man taking our mother’s money.’
‘It’s not really my –’
‘And,’ he interrupted, his colour rising, ‘that’s not all he was doing. Was it, Ma?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Please,’ said Mary Orton. ‘Please don’t.’
‘He was also trying to get her to change her will, to leave a third of everything to him.’
‘What?’
‘No, Jeremy,’ said Mary Orton. ‘I didn’t … I couldn’t …’ She had gone very red. Tears were running from the corners of her eyes.
‘That’s all right, Ma.’ Jeremy patted her hand as if she were an old dog. ‘It wasn’t your fault. The man was controlling you. You didn’t know what you were doing.’
‘Mary,’ said Frieda, ‘are you comfortable talking about this?’ Mary Orton nodded but didn’t speak. Frieda looked at Jeremy. ‘Please explain. About the will.’