‘What happened?’ Leo says, but Glynis is shaking her head, bustling around the table, clearing away the tea and plates of biscuits.
‘I really don’t remember. It was a long time ago. You know what children are like.’
There’s a creak from upstairs, the strains of Yasmin’s voice just audible. Leo glances towards the sound. ‘What was your son’s marriage like?’
‘They seemed happy.’
‘Was he a good father?’
‘Rhys doted on those girls.’ Glynis’s voice breaks. ‘They never wanted for anything, and nor did Yasmin. He gave her a generous monthly allowance.’
‘What will she do now?’ Leo asks.
Glynis folds her handkerchief into a neat square and presses it between her palms before she answers. ‘Yasmin’s the sole beneficiary of Rhys’s life assurance policy.’ She tucks the handkerchief up her sleeve then meets Leo’s gaze directly. ‘She’ll be better off now than when he was alive.’
FOURTEEN
JANUARY 4TH | LEO
‘Who’s Ceri Jones?’ Leo looks at the shops as they walk down the high street. They haven’t yet reopened after Christmas, their windows dark and tills empty.
‘The postwoman.’ Ffion is striding ahead, her body tense with fury. ‘They always said – and all the time Rhys—’
‘Ffion, you’re not making any sense.’
Ffion stops. She pushes her hands deep into her pockets. ‘Ceri has lived here forever. She’s in her early forties, I guess. She’d left secondary school by the time I got there, anyway, but people were still talking about her.’
‘What did she do?’
‘Took an overdose in the stationery cupboard. The caretaker found her and took her to hospital. She was supposed to be going to art college, but she dropped out. Now she’s the postie.’
‘Because of Rhys Lloyd?’
‘That’s the first I’ve heard of that. I only know about the overdose because Mam sat me down and told me it was okay to be gay, straight whatever – because that’s not an awkward conversation to have when you’re twelve – and that if anyone at school ever gave me grief, I was to tell her right away.’
‘Your mum sounds cool.’
‘She has her moments.’ Ffion starts walking again. ‘The official line on Ceri was that she was “struggling to come to terms with her sexuality”。’
There’s a pause before Leo speaks. ‘She was at the party.’
Ffion looks at him. ‘Ceri isn’t a murderer.’
‘She might be.’
‘Because she was bullied – what – thirty years ago? That’s not a motive for murder. Not like money is.’
‘You think Yasmin did it?’ Leo says.
‘Did you see how jittery she got over the drugs list? I’d put a tenner on the toxicology showing high levels of sleeping pills. I reckon Yasmin liked being married to a rising star. Once he was burned out, she bumped him off for the cash.’
‘Why now, though? She’d inherit more once the rest of The Shore was built.’
‘Only if she’s the beneficiary there. Jonty Charlton’s the financial partner, remember.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted to talk to us again.’
Jonty Charlton is not delighted. He looks at Leo and Ffion as though they’ve been dredged from the bottom of the lake. ‘Are you harassing the other residents of The Shore, or is that pleasure reserved for me and my wife?’
‘We don’t discriminate,’ Ffion says cheerfully, taking a step into the lodge, so Jonty has no choice but to move back.
‘This really is getting rather tiresome, you know. I thought incompetence was a quality particular to the Metropolitan Police, but clearly it’s endemic.’
‘You told me this place would be a goldmine when it was finished,’ Ffion says. ‘Who gets that goldmine, now Rhys is dead?’
Jonty looks a little taken aback. ‘Ah . . . Yasmin will inherit almost all of Rhys’s shares.’
‘Almost?’ Leo says.
‘He owned fifty-one per cent of the business. I have forty-nine per cent. Our agreement was that, in the event of Rhys’s death, two per cent of the business would be passed to me.’
‘Making you the controlling partner?’ Ffion says.
Jonty waves a hand, as though her point were moot. ‘It simply means that whoever Rhys chose to pass his shares to, the integrity of The Shore would be maintained.’