They caught up with Edwin Short at home because Vera was too impatient to wait until his office opened the following day and she swept Joe along with her. The only parking space was at the end of the street and they walked along the grand Edwardian terrace, catching glimpses of the affluent domestic lives inside: a specky lass practising the violin; a woman laying a table for dinner, carefully polishing glasses and silver before setting them on a dark wood table; an elderly gent with his eyes closed listening to something classical on the radio. Vera thought that Margaret must have lived in a street such as this as a child.

Edwin Short opened the door to them. He was a gentle, courteous man in his late fifties, silver-haired and smart except for a pair of leather slippers with a hole in the toe. He took them into a living room with a high ceiling, an open fire and shelves of books, and offered them sherry. Vera sensed that Joe was a little overawed by his surroundings. The British class thing getting in the way again.

‘Did you know Margaret Krukowski well?’ She took the glass, which looked tiny in her huge hand. Sherry wasn’t really her tipple, but Joe was driving and it didn’t do to be impolite.

‘Our firm acted for her family,’ Short said. ‘I met her parents, although they were already elderly when I knew them. My father was a lawyer, set up the practice, and I followed in his footsteps. He knew the couple better than I did, of course.’

‘Tell me about them.’ Vera leaned back in her chair.

‘James Nash was a businessman. His family had a chain of butcher’s shops in the North-East. He sold out just at the right time, before the supermarkets took hold, and after that he played at property development. He was cautious, though. Nothing too risky. When he died he was a wealthy man. His wife was a traditional home-maker. Margaret was the only child.’ He looked at Vera. ‘Is this relevant? Do say if I’m rambling.’

‘Not rambling at all.’

‘The family fell apart when Margaret married against their wishes. All quite ridiculous, of course.’ Short shook his head. ‘You have to let your children make their own decisions. My father thought it would all blow over, but Nash was a stubborn man and it seems that Margaret took after him. They never made up the quarrel. I don’t think they met again.’

‘What happened to all the family money?’ Joe interrupted.

‘It didn’t go to Margaret. The couple died when they were very frail and elderly, and much of the inheritance disappeared in care-home costs. They’d given us power of attorney and we administered their affairs. What remained went to a cancer charity.’

‘Did you inform Margaret of their death?’ Joe asked.