I made no attempt to talk because the van was even noisier than my car. But Alec shouted above it. “I got into bother. Mr. Raynor didn’t believe me. He shook me till my teeth rattled and said he’d tell where I got the pound note, but I didn’t tell him.”

“What pound note?”

“I was given it for driving a van, and I wish I hadn’t.” He took a note from his pocket. “Here. You take it.”

“Why?”

“Don’t tell.”

“You better tell me, or I won’t be able to not-tell.”

Chapter 47

Chapter Forty-Seven

Sykes and I sat with Dad in his office, along with the CID chief inspector. We had been supplied with sweet tea. For the shock, Dad said. He and Sykes might be shocked. I was angry. My beautiful car, wrapped around a tree.

As calmly as I could, I set out everything we knew. Not that I expected another attempt on my life so soon, but I had no intention of taking hard-won knowledge to the grave.

The CID officer must have been on a Trappist Monk Total Silence retreat, for he said not a word.

“Mr. Sykes discovered the man’s identity. He was Harry Aspinall, expatriate, originally of Rothwell, a trustee of the Bluebell Children’s Home. Mrs. Farrar wrote to him when she knew the children’s home was at risk.”

Sykes added more information. “I’ve found out what I could about the trust. It was wound up. Remaining moneys—a substantial amount—have been deposited in the Morley Bank under a new account, name Brock-Dell Limited. There is a charitable purpose to the account, to cover obligations that may arise under the trust. I suppose that’s to avoid accusations of sharp practice. Two percent of future profits from the new pit, after tax, will be donated towards maintaining respectable orphans.”

I refrained from saying that if you believed that you would believe anything. Profits would slide into personal accounts. High moral standards would ensure that suitably respectable orphans were few and far between.

Dad leaned forward. “As far as I can see, what Mr. Brockman and Mr. Dell did is not illegal. Trustees have a great deal of leeway.” He massaged his scalp with his fingertips. “They’re powerful men, Kate.”

“Look at Mrs. Sugden’s notebook. Mr. Aspinall was murdered at the shop. I don’t know why or how but his body was taken to the railway sidings from there.”

Dad opened the notebook. “It won’t be easy to prove collusion in murder. It’s cack-handed. It’s amateur, and the men you are accusing –”

“Powerful, I know, but amateurs at murder.”

“Most civilians are.”

“They are also arrogant and think themselves above the common herd. There’s evidence—the remains of his clothing. Mrs. Farrar was expecting him.”

“She didn’t tell anyone.”

“Because she was too canny to show her hand.”