Free The White Gallows by Rob Kitchin Page A

solid work, but I was never destined to win a Nobel Prize. The only way I would be appointed to the faculty at one of the major universities was if my father offered them an enormous donation or an endowed chair. And to be honest, even if he had, I would have preferred to stay in Galway . I would have felt like a fraud.’
    ‘And what now? You’ll take over from your father? Run Ostara Industries?’
    ‘I doubt it.’ Koch slid the saddle from the horse’s back, steam rising from the dampness underneath, and draped it over a stable door. ‘I imagine that it’ll be passed over to the Board of Directors or something. I’ve no idea how these things work.’
    ‘But surely ownership passes to you and your sister?’
    ‘We’ll see, but I’m not holding my breath. My father had his own way of doing things.’
    ‘But who else would he pass it on to?’
    ‘That’s a good question. I don’t know. Perhaps we will inherit, but even if we do, I doubt we’ll be in charge of the business. He’ll have wanted someone who knows what they’re doing in order to keep his legacy going.’
    ‘James Kinneally?’
    ‘Perhaps. I don’t know. I’m happy doing what I’m doing. I’m not rich, but I’m not poor either. Whatever happens, I’ve no plans to change anything.’ Koch started to lead the horse towards McEvoy, who was forced to step backwards. ‘I’ll be retiring in a couple of…’
    ‘Ah, shit!’ McEvoy spat, interrupting Koch. He stared down to where his right foot and the hem of his suit sat square in a fresh pile of horse dung.
    ‘It’ll wash off, Superintendent; occupational hazard of hanging around stables.’ Koch led the horse into a stall and started to remove the bridle.
    McEvoy eased his foot free and squelched to the stable door, trying to shake the dung free. It was his best suit, picked out with his daughter at the end of the Raven case.
    ‘And what about your sister, will she be happy at that?’
    ‘ Marion ? She’ll be livid. She’s always resented being frozen out of things.’
    ‘Is that why they argued?’
    ‘Amongst other things. Marion argues about everything. It’s in her nature. She always thinks that she knows best.’ Koch hung the bridle on the door and started to rub down the horse with a handful of straw.
    ‘Is that why your father blocked her working for Ostara? She was too combative?’
    ‘I’ve no idea, Superintendent. And I can’t see what it’s got to do with my father’s death either. Marion is a lot of things, but murder isn’t her style. Not unless she got a cast-iron guarantee that we inherit Ostara, with her at the helm.’
    ‘And you don’t think she has?’
    ‘I seriously doubt it. My father was fit and well. The only documents he signed are ones that made him more money.’ He dropped the straw on the ground and patted the horse on the neck.
    ‘But if you do inherit, that would give her a lot of say in things.’
    ‘She didn’t kill him, Superintendent. Why risk it? He was an old man. She’d inherit in time in any case.’
    McEvoy let the statement hang in the air. As reasons for murder went, financial power was a pretty potent force. ‘Any ideas as to what the killer might have been searching for?’ he asked eventually.
    ‘No. My father was surrounded by rumours. When I was a child, he’d started his business using stolen Nazi gold and he still had some hidden in the house for emergencies. Or it was looted Jewish treasures, or money stored in mattresses, or old American bonds. My father was German, he arrived in Ireland after the war and started a successful business. He attracted wild speculation.’
    ‘But there was no truth in the rumours?’
    ‘My father arrived in 1948 with a small cardboard suitcase to join his brother. The case could barely carry his few clothes let alone gold bars. He worked extremely hard for four years to get enough money together to buy a failing fertilizer plant and to start Ostara. He was shrewd, clever and