It was the same for Suzie, a few minutes later, when her phone rang. She was down by the river with Emma, two whippets called Wally and Evie, and a pug called Crackers, when she saw that Judith was calling her.

‘Ezra Harrington’s will has arrived,’ Judith said breathlessly. ‘It came in the post.’

‘Who inherits?’ Suzie said, cutting to the chase.

‘His whole estate was inherited by a man called Andy Bishop.’

‘Who?’

‘According to the will, Andy Bishop was Ezra’s solicitor.’

‘Hold on, are you saying that Iqbal’s neighbour ended up leaving his whole estate to his solicitor?’

‘And his solicitor is also the sole executor. So the same man drew up the will, was in charge of dispensing it once Ezra had died, and was also the sole beneficiary.’

‘Is that even legal?’

‘I looked it up. It’s legal. But it’s very definitely not ethical.’

‘We need to meet up, don’t we?’

‘I think we need to meet up as a matter of some urgency.’

Chapter 21

Marlow wasn’t short of places for three women to meet. In fact, it sometimes felt that every other business in the town was a coffee shop or drinks bar that had been expressly set up so women could meet. Judith, Suzie and Becks were able to take a window seat in a small coffee shop in the High Street that was directly opposite Andy Bishop’s office. They knew where he worked because he’d listed his company address in Ezra’s will.

The building was a pretty Georgian townhouse with bay windows, and there was a discreet brass plaque by the shiny black door. According to the company website, there were a dozen or so lawyers in the practice and Andy Bishop was listed as a senior partner.

But what should their next step be? Suzie believed they should spy on him somehow, Becks was keen they didn’t go near him at all, but Judith overruled them both. As far as she was concerned, there was only one way to find out how Andy Bishop was involved in Iqbal’s death.

‘I’m here to see Mr Bishop,’ Judith said to the receptionist a few minutes later.

Judith’s friends had tried to suggest that barrelling into Andy’s office was possibly foolhardy, but Judith had pooh-poohed their concerns. Unlike when she visited Elliot Howard, this time she had a plan. Or believed she had a plan, which was practically the same thing as far as she was concerned.

‘Do you have an appointment?’ the receptionist asked.

‘I don’t. But could you tell him my name is Mrs Judith Potts, and I’d like to talk to him about Ezra Harrington’s will.’

The receptionist was puzzled.

‘Mr Harrington’s will? We dealt with that last year, didn’t we?’

‘Don’t worry, Mr Bishop will know what I’m talking about.’