---

‘We need one last push here, folks,’ said Robyn. In spite of all her concerns, not the least of which was no news from Ross about Davies, she’d enjoyed the best night’s sleep in ages, deep and dreamless, and woken to find Schrödinger curled on top of her stomach, like a small, furry hot water bottle.

She’d also found time for a twenty-minute run before arriving at the station and was feeling more upbeat about the investigation than she had recently. She’d blown Schrödinger a kiss as she left. He’d sat on the window ledge, orange eyes like welcoming beacons, observing her movements. It was comforting to know he’d be there later.

‘The lottery draw was on the nineteenth of December and the jackpot of six million was deposited into a bank account set up by this man – Dario Pelligrini. He’s now a person of interest. David?’

David was also clear-eyed and eager to speak. ‘Got the info on Dario Pelligrini – one of the financial directors working at SFE, Staffordshire Financial Experts, based in Lichfield. He’s been an independent financial advisor for the last twenty years. Lives in Brocton with wife, Ailsa, also a financial advisor at the same office.’

Robyn’s eyes opened in surprise. ‘Brocton – same village as Anthony Hawkins and Henry Gregson. And his wife works with him?’

Her mouth twitched involuntarily as a rush of adrenalin pumped round her veins at the news – they’d uncovered another connection between Henry Gregson and the quiz team. She thought back to Juliet Fallows’ comment, that gossip spread in small villages, and considered the likelihood that either Pelligrini, or his wife, had let slip about the lottery win to Henry Gregson. ‘Then we’ll start with them. Matt, you and Anna go to Barton-under-Needwood and do a final check for witnesses who might have spotted anyone suspicious near Tessa Hall’s place the day she died. I can’t believe nobody saw anything. It’s a busy village with over four thousand inhabitants and lots of movements. There must have been people passing through the place to get to the A38, even at that time of the morning. Take Roger Jenkinson’s photograph with you and ask if he was spotted in the vicinity that day.’

Matt, head propped in one hand, suppressed a yawn. ‘Sure. I could do with a walk and fresh air.’

‘Bad night?’

‘Every night’s a bad night at the moment. Little’un’s got a chest infection now.’

‘Oh, poor little soul,’ said Anna, half-expecting a cheeky retort.

Matt was rarely downhearted. Instead he threw her a sad look. ‘Yeah. It’s tough seeing her suffer like that, coughing and wheezing. Bit frightening really.’

Robyn couldn’t help but feel for him. ‘You want to get off for a couple of hours? Check on her?’

Matt refused. ‘I’ll be no use hanging about the place. Missus is taking her to the doctor later.’

‘If you change your mind, let me know,’ Robyn replied. ‘Offer’s there.’

He gave a grateful tilt of his head.

Robyn announced, ‘I’d also intended talking to Liam Carrington once more. I’ll leave that until we’ve visited SFE. Mitz, have a word with Anthony Hawkins’ brother, William. Ask how well Anthony knew this Pelligrini chap – and determine once and for all if he could possibly have known Henry Gregson through cricket or football connections. Right. Focus. Let’s nail this. Good luck.’

She didn’t spot Tom Shearer, who’d entered the office.

He sidled over to her. ‘Nice. Good rallying of troops.’

Her positive energy began to drain. ‘You got much on?’ she asked, deflecting him from asking too many questions.

‘Yeah. Moving our stuff again. Flint’s allowed us to set up in the briefing room for the next couple of days until our new office is ready.’

‘You asked him outright?’

‘I figured we’d outstayed our welcome here. Besides, it’s crazy having two of us trying to run several investigations at the same time.’ He smirked. ‘So we’ll take our kit and be off. Thanks for having us.’ He waggled his fingers at her and meandered away.

---

SFE were based on the top floor of a two-storey, purpose-built office block. The bottom floor had been given over to a small advertising business. A plaque attached to the front door invited clients to buzz and wait. Robyn pressed the button, announced who she was and waited for the door to swing open. She and David climbed the thick-carpeted staircase and were met by a woman, attired in a tight black silk skirt that shimmered as she moved, teamed with a pristine white blouse and gravity-defying, skyscraper-heeled shoes that flashed the trademark red soles of Louboutin. She ushered them into an open-plan office populated by a handful of sharp-suited people, staring at screens and murmuring quietly into hands-free sets.

‘I’m Ailsa Pelligrini,’ she said, holding out an elegant hand and flashing an enormous diamond cluster ring.

‘DI Carter. You’re expecting us.’

‘Yes, my husband will be with us in a moment. He’s just speaking with a client.’ She directed them to the far end of the room, past the desks and computers revealing graphs and flashing dots and lists of names with which Robyn was not familiar.

The glass office was furnished simply with an oval, glass-topped table and six cream leather chairs. A water cooler stood at one end and next to it, a table of glassware.

‘Can I offer you a drink of anything?’

Robyn declined. She and David sat down on the plump cushions and waited in silence. They didn’t wait long. Within minutes, the door opened and a suntanned man with striking Mediterranean looks strode in.

‘Dario Pelligrini,’ he said, his clipped southern accent similar to his wife’s. He drew out the seat at the head of the table and studied the officers.

‘Thank you for agreeing to see us. It’s in connection with Anthony Hawkins.’

‘Ah. We suspected as much, didn’t we, Ailsa? I won’t beat about the bush. This is slightly awkward for us.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, you’ve undoubtedly discovered we handled a substantial amount of money for Anthony and have come to question the legality of the situation.’

‘Are you saying you didn’t adhere to the financial code of practice?’

‘Far from it. We did everything by the book. It was, however, an unusual set-up. I took it on because I’ve known Anthony for years. I’m sure other financial advisors would have asked more questions than we did, and spent longer on it. Anthony wanted accounts set up fairly quickly and we obliged.’

‘Tell me what exactly happened.’

‘Anthony dropped by the office last December. Said he and some friends had won a fortune on the lottery. They didn’t want the lottery money to be paid into individual bank accounts. I went through a series of options and we settled on opening a holding account. From that, funds were to be distributed into individual offshore accounts. Now, I’m guessing that’s why you’re here, but I can assure you, we did nothing illegal. We merely exploited some loopholes in the British tax system, set up companies and sent monies to the new accounts. We are a reputable firm, and fully aware of our country’s laws and tax rules. Anthony chose to invest his share in what we call a fixed-rate bond, allowing him to draw down a percentage of the fund, tax-free each year. It was an excellent rate of income that would have afforded him a good lifestyle for many years to come.’

‘So, Mr Hawkins came to you for advice and then he and the other members of the lottery syndicate employed you?’

‘In a nutshell. Both Ailsa and I worked on setting it all up. There was a significant amount of paperwork to prepare.’

‘Did you know who else was involved in the win?’

‘I met up with the other syndicate members soon after Anthony told me about the win. I explained the options to them, but after that initial meeting I didn’t see them again. Everything we needed from them to set it up came via Anthony – signed paperwork, relevant details, passports, proof of ID, all the things we have to check to prevent fraud. He thought it’d be easier for everyone if he dealt with it.’

‘You’re undoubtedly aware he died on Saturday?’

‘Yes. Very sad we were to learn about it, too. I’ve offered our condolences to his brother. They weren’t the greatest of friends, but he’s the only surviving relative, and because Anthony died intestate, he will inherit the fortune. Anthony had drafted a will and was going to leave the money to charity. I was an executor, that’s how I know of its contents. He hadn’t yet made it official. Anthony will be turning in his grave now – all that money and no time to enjoy it, and worse still, his brother will get his hands on it.’

‘Would you say you were close to Mr Hawkins?’

Dario’s head tilted from side to side quickly. ‘Not close exactly. We’d known each other a long time. Used to play cricket together, many moons ago. That was before I did my knee in. Can’t play any more. I go along and support the youngsters these days.’

Robyn’s pulse quickened slightly at the mention of the cricket club. ‘Are you acquainted with a man known as Henry Gregson? He helped with the junior teams.’

Pelligrini gave a quick nod. ‘I know him. Poor fellow got murdered. We visited Lauren two days ago. She was in such a state. Ailsa took her round some lasagne but I doubt she ate it.’

Robyn looked at Ailsa, her hands folded in front of her on the desk. ‘You knew Lauren well?’

‘We played tennis together last summer when she first moved to Brocton. She’s a lovely lady. We went to Lichfield Garrick a couple of times too. I sometimes get free tickets for various plays and Dario isn’t a fan of the theatre. Lauren was good company.’

‘Did either of you talk to Henry or Lauren about this lottery win?’

Pelligrini shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. Client confidentiality is everything in this profession. We wouldn’t want to lose clients through loose tongues, would we, Ailsa?’

She gave a tight smile, her red lipstick standing out against the white of her porcelain complexion, and shook her head.

Robyn imagined he’d charged the team handsomely for all his work, and his accounts would reveal exactly how much. She struggled to believe Dario Pelligrini was behind the murders. Outside the offices, she’d spotted a Bentley convertible with a private number plate that clearly belonged to him, and judging by his attire – the pure wool, bespoke suit, polished leather shoes and Patek Philippe watch – he had no need to get his hands on the jackpot money. Nevertheless, she had to ask the question.

‘May I ask how much you and your wife earn per annum?’

‘That’s a leading question.’

‘But one I’d like answered. It’d be much easier than me demanding to see your books.’

‘Fair enough. I have nothing to hide. We each take an annual salary in excess of a hundred thousand a year. We also own shares in the business, and annual pension contributions of approximately seventy thousand per annum are paid into each of our accounts. It’s a lucrative occupation if you have sufficient numbers of the right sort of client. We make most of our money from annual commissions, and they mount up over the years. Last year, the business turned over four million. You can always talk to our accountant if you require further details.’ His voice had retained its easy tone but his eyes had turned icy cold.

‘And finally, I’d like to ask you about your movements, Mr Pelligrini. We have to establish where you were on Tuesday the fourteenth of February.’

‘Rome. Stayed at the Rome Cavalieri. You can call the concierge there – Fabio. He’ll attest to that. He knows us well. We always stay there when we’re in Rome. And we ate at their three-star Michelin restaurant that night if that helps with your enquiries. We were there until Sunday. Thought we’d make it a romantic mini-break. Caught the afternoon flight back.’ He glanced at his watch, and his eyebrows rose as if to signal the end of the conversation.

Robyn stomped back downstairs. Although she couldn’t place either of the Pelligrinis at two of the crime scenes, she might have established a connection between Henry Gregson and the lottery win. Whereas Dario had been adamant he would never have spoken about the lottery winners to anyone, Ailsa had remained silent on the subject. It was possible she’d let it slip to Lauren.

‘I’m in the wrong job,’ mumbled David as they left the building. ‘That’s an obscene amount of money to earn.’

Robyn thought about Pelligrini’s smug expression when he’d divulged how much money he had earned. He’d been very self-satisfied. ‘You’re in the right job, David. We both are. We’re going back to the station via Brocton. I want a quick word with Lauren. I suspect Ailsa might have told her about the lottery win.’

As they pulled away, her phone lit up with a text message from her cousin Ross:

My investigations aren’t turning up any answers yet. Hope you are having more luck than me.

She gave a half-smile. Ross hadn’t mentioned Davies by name. Her cousin was a very cautious man and believed all messages could be hacked or read. She replied and then deleted the texts as he’d taught her. She was lucky to have Ross on her side.