Free Straight by Dick Francis Page A

skirt of the day before but topped with a black sweater, perhaps out of respect for Greville. Solid in body, but not large, she had good legs in black tights and a settled, well-groomed, middle-aged air. I couldn’t imagine her being as buoyant as June even in her youth.
    I asked her if she could lay her hands on the company’s insurance policy and she said as it happened she had just refiled it. I read its terms with misgivings and then telephoned the insurance company. Had my brother, I asked, recently increased the insurance? Had he increased it to cover diamonds to the value of one point five million dollars? He had not. It had been discussed only. My brother had said the premium asked was too high, and he had decided against it. The voice explained that the premium had been high because the stones would be often in transit, which made them vulnerable. He didn’t know if Mr. Franklin had gone ahead with buying the diamonds. It had been an inquiry only, he thought, three or four months ago. I thanked him numbly and put down the receiver.
    The telephone rang again immediately and as Annette seemed to be waiting for me to do so, I answered it.
    “Hello?” I said.
    A male voice said, “Is that Mr. Franklin? I want to speak to Mr. Franklin, please.”
    “Er ... could I help? I’m his brother.”
    “Perhaps you can,” he said. “This is the clerk of the West London Magistrates Court. Your brother was due here twenty minutes ago and it is unlike him to be late. Could you tell me when to expect him?”
    “Just a minute.” I put my hand over the mouthpiece and told Annette what I’d just heard. Her eyes widened and she showed signs of horrified memory.
    “It’s his day for the Bench! Alternate Tuesdays. I’d clean forgotten.”
    I returned to the phone and explained the situation.
    “Oh. Oh. How dreadfully upsetting.” He did indeed sound upset, but also a shade impatient. “It really would have been more helpful if you could have alerted me in advance. It’s very short notice to have to find a replacement.”
    “Yes,” I agreed, “but this office was broken into during the weekend. My brother’s appointments diary was stolen, and in fact we cannot alert anybody not to expect him.”
    “How extremely inconvenient.” It didn’t seem an inappropriate statement to him. I thought Greville might find it inconvenient to be dead. Maybe it wasn’t the best time for black humor.
    “If my brother had personal friends among the magistrates,” I said, “I would be happy for them to get in touch with me here. If you wouldn’t mind telling them.”
    “I’ll do that, certainly.” He hesitated. “Mr. Franklin sits on the licensing committee. Do you want me to inform the chairman?”
    “Yes, please. Tell anyone you can.”
    He said goodbye with all the cares of the world on his shoulders and I sighed to Annette that we had better begin telling everyone as soon as possible, but the trade was to expect business as usual.
    “What about the papers?” she asked. “Shall we put it in The Times and so on?”
    “Good idea. Can you do it?”
    She said she could, but in fact showed me the paragraph she’d written before phoning the papers. “Suddenly, as the result of an accident, Greville Saxony Franklin JP, son of...” She’d left a space after “son of” which I filled in for her “the late Lt. Col. and Mrs. Miles Franklin.” I changed “brother of Derek” to “brother of Susan, Miranda and Derek,” and I added a few final words, “Cremation, Ipswich, Friday.”
    “Have you any idea,” I asked Annette, “what he could have been doing in Ipswich?”
    She shook her head. “I’ve never heard him mention the place. But then he didn’t ever tell me very much that wasn’t business.” She paused. “He wasn’t exactly secretive, but he never chatted about his private life.” She hesitated. “He never talked about you.”
    I thought of all the times he’d been good company and told me virtually