In the Event of My Death
A Kesley and Lambert novel. Chief Inspector Kesley investigates a murder case that will prove to be one of the most difficult and complex of his career.When Grace Dalton is found dead the morning after celebrating her 70th birthday, she leaves behind a houseful of suspects, all of whom are mentioned in her will, and money seems to be the motive.Could the killer be Esther Milroy, who is discovered to have booked an expensive holiday just prior to the tragedy? Or is Esther’s brother Mathew- facing financial ruin before his stepmother’s death- the more likely suspect? And what about Verity Thorburn, spurned by her lover, firmly believing that if only she had a bigger disposable income the man who got away would come running back to her?DCI Kesley investigates and, this time, it’s personal – the dead woman was a friend. He’ll do everything he can to put her killer behind bars.
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First published in Great Britain in 1994 by Collins Crime
Copyright © Emma Page 1994
Emma Page asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008171827
Ebook Edition © MARCH 2016 ISBN: 9780008171834
Version [2016-02-18]
CONTENTS
The rain had blown itself out in the night and Tuesday morning was fine, unusually mild for the first week in February.
In the spacious front bedroom of his substantial Edwardian dwelling in Oakfield Gardens, in one of the best residential suburbs of Brentworth, a thriving town of considerable size, James Milroy had slept soundly, as he did every night, from very soon after getting into bed. At six-thirty, as every weekday morning, the radio alarm on his bedside table sprang suddenly to life at the start of a news and current affairs programme.
James came awake, as always, on the instant. He threw back his covers and got out of bed, all his movements performed with his habitual minimum of noise. He gave his customary close attention to the recital of events and opinions, overnight market reports.
He was a tall, lean man of forty-nine, he looked fit and energetic. His hair was still thick and dark, he had kept his trim waistline; he could easily pass for ten years younger. He had a high forehead, a quiet face, shrewd and subtle, a penetrating gaze, a controlled manner. He looked very much what he was: a senior partner in a highly reputable firm of auditors and registrars, with its head office in Brentworth.
James had read law at the university, intending to make a career as a solicitor, but had later changed his mind, deciding instead to qualify as a chartered accountant. He had sprung from a background that was far from privileged and had made his way by dint of single-minded determination and unremitting hard work.
In the equally spacious front bedroom across the landing, the insistent trilling of her alarm clock finally roused James’s wife from a heavy, unrefreshing sleep; it was years since Esther had gone to bed without a sleeping pill.
She dragged herself out of bed to make a sketchy toilet before going down to cook breakfast for James. She was five years younger than her husband. She had married at eighteen in a flush of girlish romance; she had borne her first son before the year was out, her second, two years later. She had been very pretty as a girl, with a slender figure, delicate features, curly brown hair and a beautiful skin. Now she was thin and bony, with the look of a trapped bird. The curly brown hair had thinned and was showing threads of grey; the fine skin had developed a pervasive pattern of lines while she was still in her thirties. She appeared now a good ten years older than her husband.
Before she went downstairs, she drew back her curtains and opened wide the casement windows. The birds were astir, the sky was streaked with rose. She leaned out into the gentle air. To be away from it all, on her own, to be done with demands, routine, role-playing, to begin life all over again, in some far off, peaceful place, on her own terms this time – whatever those might prove to be. She drew a long sigh and turned from the window.
As she closed her bedroom door, James came out of his room on his way to the bathroom. She gave him a consciously bright greeting, adding in a rush, ‘It’s really quite warm this morning.’ He responded with detached courtesy. They might have been total strangers making conversation in a station waiting room.
