Danny arrived at Harry’s office about a quarter to ten: Harry had wanted a few minutes before
“We’ve got a bit of a problem here, Danny,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded behind his head.
“We haven’t got a motive for why anyone would go to quite such extreme lengths to hide Laurel McFry’s ancestors. I figure we’ve got to get some more information out of our Miss McFry, or this investigation is going to run up against the buffers. Are you absolutely certain she knows nothing about Lillian McFry?”
Danny considered the question a moment. “I don’t think she does. And the problem we’ve got is, we can’t tell her. My professional obligation is with Lillian, not
The more Harry saw of Danny, the more he liked his style – ‘professional obligation’ weren’t words that figured heavy in Harry’s lexicon. But he saw the boy’s point.
“The starting point in all of this has got to be what we know,” Harry said. “And what we know is this: Lillian McFry, our little old lady in
Harry pulled a sheet of A3 paper from a shelf behind his desk, picked up a pencil and started to sketch out a rough family tree for Laurel McFry.
“OK. Let’s presume Lillian McFry is
Danny shook his head. “No, we know that James McFry –
It was Harry’s turn to shake his head. “We can’t assume anything in this business, Danny. She’s a McFry – either by birth or by marriage. That’s pretty much all we know.”
Harry could see that Danny was looking slightly embarrassed. He softened the blow: “But let’s assume she is, just to see where it takes us. Lillian would have had to have been born Lillian Blyth, and had her daughter out of wedlock. Or else her maiden name was McFry and she married a
Danny was thinking of the old woman he had visited in
Harry adopted a sage-like countenance, nodding his head slightly: “It usually is where women are concerned, Danny – it usually is.” As he said this, he added a dotted line between the name Colleen Blyth and Lillian on the sheet in front of him.
“Now … what else do we ‘know’?” he asked.
Danny was scanning his notes again. “James McFry had three sons: Stuart, born in 1908, Thomas, born in 1911 and Philip, born in 1924 –
“Where’s this information from, Danny?” Harry asked.
“Have you checked it?” Harry asked. Danny had to admit that he hadn’t. “Well, let’s not worry too much about that now – we can always check it later,” Harry said, sketching the new names on the tree.
“Do we know anything more about Anne Lawrence – who married James McFry?” he asked.
“She had a brother, John James Lawrence. And he married…” Danny was flipping through his notes now, “…an Amy D Peterson.”
Harry added the information to the tree. He checked his watch. It was a couple of minutes from ten: