by Sally Rigby
‘It’s not like that, Sarah,’ he said, leaning down and kissing her on both cheeks. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss.’
‘I know exactly how it is. I’m part of the family, remember. Even my mother refused to attend. She said she wasn’t well, but we all know the truth.’
Sarah’s mother was Seb’s father’s sister. So, yes, he knew exactly what the truth was.
‘You’re right. Appearances have to be maintained. How are you coping?’
‘Holding up. The boys have been a great help, although they’re going back to university next week. Which will leave me rattling around in the house alone.’
Did that mean she’d had to get rid of the staff?
‘It will get easier in time,’ he said, more as a platitude than anything else, as he had no idea whether it would.
‘What did you think to the service? It wasn’t what I’d have wanted, but under the circumstances what else could we do?’ she said, sighing.
‘It was appropriate, I agree.’
‘Will you be coming back to the house for lunch? We’ve put on a spread for everyone, though judging by the turnout we’ll have enough food to last the rest of the week and into next.’ She gave a wry smile.
He admired her stoicism. It couldn’t have been easy for her or the twins, who he’d noticed were standing away from the other mourners, tight expressions on their faces.
Funerals in their family would normally attract hundreds of people to pay their respects. But no one wanted to be tainted by this one, especially if it meant appearing in the press.
‘I’d be delighted to,’ he said, lying. All he wanted to do was get back to Elsa to go out for a relaxing walk in the countryside, providing the rain eased.
‘Are you going back to London today? You do still live there, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do, but I’m staying here for a few days. I fancied a short break.’
‘That’s perfect. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you when we’re back at the house.’
He frowned. ‘What is it?’
‘I can’t talk now as people might hear.’ She glanced around conspiratorially.
What on earth did she want to speak to him about? They had nothing in common other than the family.
‘Of course. I understand.’
She turned, and they walked together in silence to where the mourners were milling around by the cars.
‘I’ll see you back at the house. You know the way?’ Sarah asked.
‘Yes, I remember. It’s on the edge of the village. The last time I was here was when your father …’ He paused, not wanting to mention the death of her father at a time like this.
‘When Daddy died. It was a very different affair. No room in the church and a service which lasted several hours because of all the readings. A real celebration of his life. Not like …’ Her eyes filled with tears.
He leant in and gave her hug. ‘It will be okay,’ he said softly in her ear. ‘I’ll see you in a little while.’
‘Thank you. I’m glad you’re here, even if you were coerced into attending. You’ve always been my favourite cousin.’ Her eyes, still glassy, shone as she gave a watery smile.
He waited until she’d moved on to speak to another person and then escaped back to his car.
‘Excuse me?’
He looked up as a man holding a phone in his hand strode up towards him. The same man who’d been watching them earlier.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m a freelance reporter sent by the Harborough Mail. Are you related to the deceased?’
He had two choices. He could either tell the guy where to go, or grit his teeth and answer his questions. What would be best for Sarah? Whatever he did it wouldn’t stop there being something in the paper about the funeral.
‘I’m related to his wife. Why are you here?’
‘Donald Witherspoon defrauded hundreds of people, many of them from around here. People have lost their entire life savings thanks to him.’
‘I understand and am very sorry for what has happened to them, but I’m here to support his wife during this difficult time.’
‘Did she know about his activities?’
‘I doubt it very much. Now if that’s all, I’m leaving.’
He made a step towards his car and the journalist followed.
‘Do you approve of what he did?’ A phone was stuck under Seb’s nose.
He drew in a breath and pushed the phone away. ‘I know nothing about his investments. I’m here to be with my cousin. That is all. Surely, you don’t believe the man should be denied his right to a proper funeral?’
‘He denied his investors proper financial advice. As far as the public will be concerned, he should have been buried in a plywood box with no one present.’
‘Well, the public don’t belong to Donald’s family. Whatever he did, that doesn’t alter the fact that he had a wife and two children. For their sakes, I suggest you leave now. I’m sure you took plenty of photos of the mourners you can sell to the highest bidder. That should be enough for you. And I don’t expect to read any of my comments in your article, as everything I have said is off the record.’
‘Who are you?’
‘It isn’t important. You don’t need to know my name because you won’t be using anything I’ve said.’ He took a step towards him, using his height to intimidate. It wasn’t something he did often, but when he did, it was always effective.
‘Okay, mate. I get your point.’ The reporter took two enormous steps backwards away from Seb’s potential grasp.
‘Make sure you do. You can report that the funeral has taken place, and that’s all. It’s of no interest to anyone outside of the family. Got it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, off you go.’
Seb leant against his car, his arms folded tightly across his chest, until the reporter had returned to his car and driven off.
He’d had enough of the media after the special squad’s demise. He had no desire to deal with them here as well.
Chapter 3
4 May
Seb drove up the long drive towards Rendall Hall, which was situated on the edge of East Farndon village. It was the home his cousin had lived in for her entire married life and had been bought with money she’d inherited from her grandparents on her father’s side. It dated back to the 17th century and he admired the distinguishing turrets which set it apart from many similar stone-built houses. It had been fully restored and was exceptionally beautiful. The ten acre grounds weren’t huge, when compared with his family’s estate, and manageable.
Would the property have to be sold? He hoped not, but he had no idea of Sarah’s financial situation.
He parked the car on the gravel drive in front of the house and walked up the stone entrance steps, which were flanked by two pillars, to the large wooden double door that had been left open. He didn’t imagine there would be many people attending lunch, if the number of people who’d been at the funeral was anything to go by. As he entered the main vestibule, a member of Sarah’s staff, wearing a black skirt and white shirt, was there to greet him.
‘Good afternoon, sir. We’re serving drinks in the drawing room.’
‘Thank you. I know the way.’
He headed to the room in question, which was to the left of the vestibule, and when he walked in, there was another staff member holding a tray of drinks.
‘Sherry, sir?’ he was asked.
Sebastian took one from the silver tray, although he could have done with a beer. Not that he’d expected there to be one on offer. He hoped lunch would be served soon as he really didn’t want to stay too long. It wasn’t fair on Elsa, especially as she was in unfamiliar surroundings. He wandered over to the rear window and stared out at the manicured lawns and immaculate flowerbeds, which were surrounded by fields and a small wooded area, also belonging to the hall. Elsa would have loved rummaging through there.
He glanced to the side and saw one of the twins standing alone, a pa
ined expression on his face.
He headed over to him. ‘Hello, Benedict, I’m Sebastian, your mother’s cousin.’
‘I know who you are. How do you know I’m not Caspian?’
He wasn’t prepared to go into details about his special gift, as his mother had called it his entire life.
‘We’ve met before, at your grandfather’s funeral several years ago. I’m very sorry for your loss. It must have been very difficult for you and your brother, under the circumstances.’
‘Yes, it is, and now we don’t know what’s going to happen. I can’t believe that my father would do this to us. He left my mother with all these problems.’ He turned his head, but not before Seb witnessed the tears fill his eyes and him blinking them away. ‘I’ve got to go,’ Benedict said, walking away without giving Seb time to answer.
More people arrived until Seb counted thirty. Not all of them had been at the church, so maybe they’d decided to pay their respects in a more private venue. Could he get away without staying for lunch? Sarah might not notice, except she had said she wished to speak to him. Could it wait? He’d no idea what it was about. Perhaps she wanted him to approach his father for help. Whether the viscount would was another matter. Maybe discreetly he could provide some support, after all he wouldn’t want to see Sarah struggling at a time like this, considering she was a member of the family.
Where was she? If he attracted her attention now, they could have a quick chat. He scanned the room and saw her engrossed in conversation with an elderly couple. She happened to glance up and smile in his direction. It didn’t look like she had time for him just yet so he turned and resumed staring out at the garden.
‘Seb.’ Sarah’s voice startled him as he’d been miles away. ‘Let’s talk now, before lunch, as I might not have time otherwise. We’ll go outside, where no one can hear us.’ She opened one of the French doors which led into the garden and they walked out together.
‘How can I help you, Sarah?’
‘I read about what happened with your job, it can’t have been easy. Were you in a lot of trouble?’
The media had reported on the incident and even listed the officers’ names in the squad.
‘I wasn’t directly involved, so didn’t get reprimanded, but my squad was disbanded.’
‘I knew it couldn’t be you. What’s going to happen now?’
Should he tell her?
‘Between you and me, I’ve resigned as there wasn’t another position available that I was prepared to take. Please keep this to yourself, as I haven’t yet told the family. They knew about the incident because it had been reported but as yet they don’t know my decision to leave the force. Although I suspect they won’t be too upset about me no longer being there. They were never happy about my career choice.’
If he’d have chosen to go into one of the armed forces, then that would have been acceptable, but the police force hadn’t been viewed in the same way. After he’d finished university, he’d got accepted at the Metropolitan Police, in their fast track scheme, and had ended up in the fraud squad. From there he transferred to the special squad, and he’d enjoyed the role immensely.
‘I wouldn’t dream of mentioning it to them, but it does mean that what I’m going to ask you has come along at the right time.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’ How could him leaving his job affect her?
‘Donald’s behaviour was inexcusable, and I was appalled that so many people lost their life savings thanks to him. I wish I could make amends on his behalf, but how can I? That aside, I don’t believe he committed suicide. The reports were wrong.’
He hadn’t been expecting that. ‘What makes you say this?’
‘I’m sure you know that he was found beside a car park at Foxton Locks having been shot in the head. The gun was close to him and he’d left a handwritten note addressed to me.’
‘Yes, I had heard about the circumstances, and I’d have thought that to be conclusive evidence. Presumably, so did the coroner.’
It wasn’t unusual for families to reject suicide verdicts and do what they could to overturn them. Sometimes for religious reasons, or simply because of any financial implications.
‘Please hear me out. First of all, why did he choose to kill himself at Foxton Locks and not here?’
‘Maybe he didn’t want you to be the person to find his body. That often happens in suicide cases.’
‘So instead, two young children found him and they’ll most likely be scarred for life. There’s no way he’d have risked that happening.’
‘If he hadn’t been thinking straight then he might not have considered his body would have been found by children.’
‘At a place like the locks where families go all the time? That’s ridiculous. And even if what you’re saying is true, where did he get the gun? He didn’t own one like that. He has several shotguns for when he goes shooting on the land. But not a handgun, which is illegal, anyway. Why didn’t he use one of his own guns? When I mentioned this discrepancy to the police, they said he could have easily accessed one.’
‘I’m sorry, Sarah, but what you were told is plausible, and using a different gun, illegal or otherwise, is not, in itself, a cause for concern.’
She folded her arms tight across her chest and bit down on her bottom lip, staring at him. ‘What about the note? It doesn’t make sense, either,’ she said after a few seconds.
Was she clutching at straws? It appeared so.
‘It was in his own handwriting, and would have been nigh on impossible to forge it. What is it about the note that bothers you?’
Talking it through might help her come to accept the verdict.
‘It said he couldn’t go on because he felt responsible for all those people losing their money, and he hoped I’d forgive him. But he’d also lost all of our money, too. I’m left with nothing apart from the house, which is in my name and can’t be touched. Donald had life insurance, which was invalidated by the suicide. He wouldn’t want to leave me penniless. If he wanted to end his life and have it not classed as suicide, there are plenty of other means. Certainly not shooting himself. I’ve still got the boys to support while they’re at university. That’s not going to be easy. I’m going to need help and he’d have known that.’
‘Suicide is covered under most life insurance policies now, isn’t it?’
‘We changed our provider eighteen months ago and there was a twenty-four-month exclusion period. He would have known that. He was meticulous about the details in contracts.’
‘If he was depressed and not thinking rationally, he might have totally forgotten the exclusion. It’s understandable now the full facts regarding his business have been disclosed. Were you aware of what was happening?’
‘I had no idea whatsoever. Not that I’m believed. The media painted me as a willing participant, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Donald always kept details of his business away from me. It was how we’d always been from when we first got married. I’ll admit that he’d been a little more distracted than usual, but business sometimes did that to him. I wasn’t unduly concerned.’
‘Why did you want to talk to me about this?’
It had to be more than to let off steam to a cousin she hadn’t seen for a long time.
‘I’d like you to take a look at the evidence and find out the truth. You’ll be a fresh pair of eyes. I’ll pay you, of course. I’m not expecting you to do it for free.’
‘How can you afford to pay me, when you’ve already mentioned that things are pretty desperate?’
He couldn’t take money from her, especially as so far he hadn’t heard anything which changed his view on the verdict.
‘I have a little put aside from a small inheritance from my godmother that I can use. It’s not much, but it would be money well spent. Please, it’s important to me. You’re the only person I know with the sort of expertise that’s required, and now you’re not working, it’s perfect timing.’
; He couldn’t simply dismiss her out of hand as she’d already been through enough.
‘Before I make a decision, would you mind going through what happened on the day Donald died?’
‘He wasn’t himself and had been acting distant for a week or two. I’d asked him several times if there was anything wrong and he said he had a few business issues, but he’d sort them out. He wouldn’t be drawn further, and I didn’t push, because occasionally he was distracted, like I said before. I can’t tell you how much I regret that.’ Her eyes glazed over.
He touched her on the arm and she started. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Sorry. It’s hard to put on a brave face all the time.’ She sucked in a breath. ‘On the Saturday of his death he told me he was meeting a prospective client in the afternoon and didn’t know what time he’d be home. He didn’t tell me where they were meeting and I didn’t ask. I had plans with a girlfriend. We were going to visit some open gardens in the next village and I didn’t mind him going out. When he didn’t come home Saturday night I worried, but he’d stayed out before, especially if he’d had too much to drink. I left a message on his phone to call me. On the Sunday lunchtime the police came around and told me he’d been found dead at Foxton Locks. Then the financial nightmare started as what he’d done came out in the open. I don’t believe it was suicide, and why go all the way out over there to do the deed? None of it makes sense.’
‘If it’s not suicide, do you think he was murdered?’
‘I don’t know. But I do think the police could have done a better job. It was as if they took the easiest route. They saw a note and a gun, and assumed straight away that he’d taken his own life. Especially as all the money issues came to light not long after his death.’
‘Do you know how that happened?’
‘One of his investors had contacted the Financial Conduct Authority, and they investigated. I let them have access to all of his records as I thought they would report me to the police if I didn’t.’
‘Did you explain your concerns about Donald’s death to the police?’
‘Yes, but they didn’t listen. Even when I mentioned discrepancies with the actual note, they just dismissed it.’
