by Keith Finney
Ant knew that the mention of the injury might encourage Riley to unconsciously touch the savage lump.
He was correct.
Riley winced.
"What my friend means, Inspector, is—"
Oh, do you, thought Ant.
"I know what he means, Miss Blackthorn, and I thank him for his concern."
Blast, he didn't bite.
Ant inwardly gave the detective due recognition for not retaliating as he watched Riley dab his broken skin and inspect his greyish-white handkerchief for blood.
I bet that doesn't half hurt.
"By the way," said Riley, doing up the buttons of his mackintosh. "You forgot to tell me how you two came to be here in the first place."
Ant began to form his response but observed Lyn would beat him to it.
"Luck? That's an odd way of describing a man's death, isn't it? As it happens, we were at a charity BBQ upriver and came across that poor man’s wife. To cut a long story short, we offered to come over and see if he was here."
Ant's eyes burned into Riley.
"Turns out he is. Here, I mean, Inspector.
And I bet I know what you're going to say next.
"Did you, indeed, mister, or should I say, Lord Stanton? Well, we'll take it from here and get a liaison officer over to Mrs Singleton. This means there will be no need for either of you to trouble yourselves further. Do I make myself clear?"
Ant winked at Lyn.
"The name My Lord will be sufficient, Mr Riley."
Riley scowled but did not engage further as a billowing mackintosh masked the detective's bulk as he exited the boathouse, leaving the remaining officers to complete their work.
"Time to go, I think, Lyn."
Within two minutes, both were on Fieldsurfer making ready to cast off.
"You're quiet."
Ant considered Lyn's comment as he watched her stow the wherry’s sail and give him the nod to fire up the outboard motor.
"Nothing to say, is there? I hate to admit it, but I think Plod has a point. Geoff looks as though he was just unlucky. Perhaps he had some kind of undiagnosed heart problem. Stuff happens."
Ant chose not to elaborate as he pulled the engine recoil start and pushed the tiller hard to starboard. The wherry turned on a sixpence.
He peered over the edge of the boat to see what Lyn was distracting herself with and glanced at the elongated bodies of several grey mullet skirting the vessel’s timber hull.
"But you just don’t sit down and die, Ant. At least not someone as young and fit as him?"
He looked up from the water and adjusted the throttle to the permitted maximum of five miles per hour for Stanton Broad.
"Ah, but you can. What about that sudden death syndrome thingy?"
Lyn moved to the centre of Fieldsurfer and swung an arm around the vessel’s mast.
"You mean sudden arrhythmic death syndrome, Ant. You may be right, but—"
"That's spooky. The acronym spells SADS."
"Rather makes my point, Ant."
One way of finding out.
"I tell you what, Lyn. Why don't you shoot over to Hannah’s place? I've got that consultant chappy coming to the Hall with his bright ideas for putting the estate on a sound footing. The police liaison officer is bound to be a woman, so you’ll have no problem getting in."
Ant couldn't understand why Lyn started to apologise.
"Goodness. I forgot about your meeting. I'm happy to tag along and keep your parents entertained while you talk turkey.
Ant's look spoke of his appreciation for her concern and offer to shield his parents from what he knew would be a difficult discussion about the Hall's future.
He tried to make light of the situation.
"Bet he recommends some type of theme park. What do you fancy: safari, dinosaur, or a thousand things to make with Norfolk reed?"
Ant raised an open palm to encourage a response.
"You don’t fool me, Anthony Stanton."
She can read me like a book.
As Lyn brought the Mini to a stop outside Hannah’s house, she spotted a woman talking to Annabelle at the front door.
Must be the liaison officer. Do I go now, or wait for her to leave?
Events resolved themselves. The woman turned and made for her car. Once the Astra had pulled away, Lyn strolled up the brick-weave driveway and rang the doorbell.
After what seemed like an age, the door opened.
"Oh, nice of you to call, Lyn. Hannah will be so pleased to see you. Please, follow me."
Lyn noted Annabelle's reddened eyes.
"I know how horrible it must be for Hannah, but how are you coping?"
Annabelle shrugged her shoulders without making further comment.
Moving down a long, narrow hallway, Lyn followed a quiet whimper to its source. She watched as Hannah sat crouched in a corner of the spacious lounge, weeping into the folds of a sports jacket.
Got to be Geoff's.
"I’m so sorry, Hannah. I'm sure the police will do everything they can to find out what happened."
Lyn sensed Hannah hadn’t heard her. Instead the grieving young woman turned to Annabelle who sat on the arm of a leather sofa looking aimlessly out of the front window.
Poor souls.
"Now, how about a nice cup of tea?"
Neither woman answered. Nevertheless, Lyn made her way to the spacious kitchen, which stretched the full width of the house: the floorspace divided into two by a wide breakfast bar.
As Lyn first filled then flicked on the electric kettle, she couldn’t help contrasting the ordinariness of the room with the extraordinary events of the day.
Cruel, but life goes on.
She pushed aside a neat pile of official-looking papers to make room on the worktop. It was as if Geoff had just popped out. Except he wouldn't be coming back.
As Lyn lifted three mugs from the wall cabinet, something fell from the top shelf.
Looks like a business card.
Lyn turned the small rectangular-shaped object over to reveal its owner.
Rufus Dean-Parker
Royal Windsor Yacht Design & Build
Bespoke Conversions
Interesting. I wonder if Geoff was thinking of selling his boat.
Still pondering her discovery, Lyn headed back into the lounge.
"Here we are."
She set a stylish melamine serving tray onto an oak coffee table.
Eventually, Hannah stirred and indicated to Lyn she might like some.
"Milk and sugar? There you are. Now you take a sip of that."
Lyn offered Hannah one of the brightly coloured mugs.
"This is your famous English tea, yes? I bought it in the village when we first moved in."
Lyn nodded and returned Hannah's smile.
Brave girl.
"Tell me about Geoff."
Lyn leant forward, encouraging Hannah to open up about her husband.
Hope this works.
Hannah responded, hesitantly at first. Her smile widened. Lyn knew she was recalling the good times.
"He was so passionate about his work you know. He refused to do business with anyone who didn’t share his love for our beautiful world. Geoff worried so much about the damage we are all doing to our planet. His saw it as his mission to help develop clean energy."
Lyn sensed Annabelle moving.
"Hannah is right. He managed to run a successful business and stay true to his beliefs. That is hard to do in business, yes?"
Hannah’s smile faded.
"But my husband was stubborn. His uncle and grandfather died young. I told him to see the doctor and check he didn't have the same problem, but he refused. Stupid man."
Lyn knew Hannah didn’t mean to sound so angry. It was part of the grieving process.
Not the right time to ask if she knew Geoff was selling their boat.
3
Castle Ahead
A wisp of cloud made lazy progress across the early ev
ening sky like a piece of fluffed cotton as Ant and Lyn strolled around the spacious grounds of Stanton Hall.
"From the look on your face, I assume the business consultant’s recommendations didn’t impress?"
Lyn linked arms with her best friend by way of offering him support.
"Let’s just say I’ve paid nearly two thousand quid for a bloke in a suit to tell me what I already know."
Ant’s tone left little to her imagination.
"Let me guess. A wedding venue, opening the Hall to the public, complete with tearoom, shop stuffed with organic vegetables, and teddy bears wearing Union Jack waistcoats? Also, perhaps, suggesting you stage classical concerts during the summer months?"
Lyn’s response served only to increase Ant's agitation.
"Yes, all of it. Plus, would you believe, flooding Water Meadow to reinstate the wetland that apparently existed when Adam was a lad. He says we can then turn it into a blessed bird sanctuary."
Lyn laughed.
"It’s not funny."
She tugged on his arm.
"If you don't stop it, your face will stick like that, and then who'd want to visit, except at Halloween?"
His attempt to stifle a fit of giggles failed miserably.
"Actually, Ant, a bird sanctuary sounds rather exciting. And you’d be helping to save the planet."
She watched as he peered at her through narrowed eyes.
"Try telling that to the villagers in Low Road. I doubt they’d like sharing their living rooms with a flock of pink-footed geese when the damn place floods."
Lyn’s eyes lit up.
"At least it would save them having to buy a bird for Christmas lunch, Ant. They’re expensive, you know."
Who's the gullible one, then.
"Have you lost the plot or what? Water Meadow and Low Road are called as such for good reason. And anyway, they’re protected."
Lyn let go of her friend and turned to face him.
"Protected? What, road names?"
Ant's eyes closed as he shook his head.
"The geese, Lyn. The geese… as you well know, Ms Blackthorn."
He tilted his head in mock disdain.
Her eyes flashed.
"Don’t you call me—"
Ant lifted an arm and showed Lyn his open palm.
"I apologise, head teacher. Anyway, do you know what they call them?"
Lyn needed no encouragement to drop into teacher mode.
"The singular is goose, the plural, geese."
He laughed.
"No, no. Not the goose… I mean, geese. The business consultant; do concentrate, Lyn."
Unimpressed, she shrugged her shoulders.
"Shall I give you a definition of someone who charges you six hundred smackaroos a day for 'advice'?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Someone who always ends their sentences with 'but on the other hand...'"
Lyn huffed and half turned.
"Serves you right for having more money than sense."
Better move this conversation on.
"Come on, let’s get going. I want to reach Stanton Broad in time for the sunset; it looks as though it’s going to be a good one.
Lyn gazed at the weakening sun as it continued its inevitable submission to the horizon.
She bumped hips with Ant as they left the grazed pastures of Home Farm and progressed down a gentle slope covered in knee-high great fen-sedge.
Ant responded with a smile and bumped her back.
"Anyway, Lyn, never mind that stupid business consultant. How did you get on with Hannah Singleton?"
Lyn pulled a handful of sedge by giving the plant a sharp tug.
"She was in bits. Thank heavens she’s got Annabelle there, that’s all I can say. It’s bad enough losing your husband, but to be in a strange country as well. That's hard."
Lyn rubbed the swelling seed heads of the sedge between her fingers.
"I get it," replied Ant. His words were spoken with a quiet dignity.
Lyn glanced at her friend, knowing the memory of losing his elder brother could still reduce him to tears.
"She’s angry, Ant. It turns out he may have had a congenital heart condition that killed his father and uncle, but he wouldn’t get himself checked. Too scared, I guess."
Ant copied Lyn in grabbing a handful of grass.
"Well, well. So I wasn't too far off when I mentioned that syndrome thingy. What if there was something the doctors could have done, and he didn’t bother, or as you say, was afraid to find out? No wonder she’s angry."
Lyn fell into a reflective mood as she shuffled through a sea of vegetation, grasshoppers springing from the tops of the sedge in response to being disturbed.
"Then again, perhaps he did find out and didn’t want to worry Hannah?"
Lyn shook her head.
"I don’t think so. Or if he did, he was one cool cookie to keep it from Hannah."
"What do you mean?"
Lyn stopped mid-stride.
"A question—if someone knew for certain they had a serious health condition that, without treatment, might kill them literally in a heartbeat, would they buy a new boat when they already have an almost-new top-of-the-range model?"
Lyn looked towards Ant.
"Could have been on his bucket list, I suppose. Anyway, how do you know he was in the market for a new boat?"
Lyn pulled a small card from her trouser pocket.
"Here, look at this."
Ant read the card, a smile growing as he finished examining its contents.
"Small world. I know Rufus. Geoff must have been loaded, because this guy only sells to the top-drawer crowd who don't have to ask about the price tag."
Lyn sighed.
"I should have known. The aristocrat and a rich boat builder who works for toffs."
Money always sticks together.
"Not sure I would describe some of his clients as the aristocracy, Lyn. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. He works with some dodgy people, which makes their money dodgy. Put it this way. They are most certainly not the sort of people you’d want to fall foul of."
Lyn reclaimed the business card.
"Surprising, that—I mean, given Geoff Singleton’s apparent uber-ethical approach to business." She watched Ant frown. "Don't look so confused. It was something Anabelle mentioned."
"Well, there’s one way to find out if our young entrepreneur was indeed as pure as the driven snow. I’ll give Ruffy a ring to see if we can shoot down to his place tomorrow morning."
Ruffy.
"Ruffy? What is it with you lot that you have to give each other a nickname?"
Ant let out a throaty laugh.
"Mock ye not. It has its advantages as you will see tomorrow."
Lyn didn't appreciate the finger being wagged at her.
"I’ve wanted to visit Windsor Castle since I was a kid. Don’t suppose I’ll manage it today, either, judging by the royal standard fluttering above the round tower?"
Lyn marvelled at the immense size of the castle as Ant’s beloved Morgan sports car made its way through the narrow streets of Windsor, down the steep incline of High Street and towards the waterfront.
"Have you been in there?"
Ant glanced towards the castle's massive battlements.
"Funny you should ask. I had lunch with some people a couple of years ago. It’s a fantastic place. They made a great job of restoring the castle after the fire in 1992. Now it's hard to tell what's twenty years old and which bits date back a thousand years."
Lyn turned to Ant as he changed gear to cope with a tricky corner.
"I meant as a tourist, not a lunch guest of Her Majesty!"
Lyn couldn’t believe what he'd just said.
"Strictly speaking, I wasn’t. Although I suppose anyone who receives an official invite is, er, the queen’s guest. Anyway, can’t talk about that. One must never divulge such things, you know."
Lyn hung on his every word, fully expecting him to break the Official Secrets A
ct.
Ant put a finger to the side of one nostril and gave it a light tap.
"Hush hush and all that."
Lyn bristled, knowing he was playing with her.
Arrogant toerag.
She decided, instead, to ignore anything further he might have to say on the subject. The trouble was, Lyn knew he would expect her, at some point during the day, to demand more detail. And she would give in to temptation.
"Anthony, good to see you. It's been too long, old friend."
Ant had no need to remind himself what a tree of a man Rufus Dean-Porter was. Six foot five and a dapper dresser with a penchant for Savile Row suits and tailored shirts from Jermyn Street in London. By the time Ant had turned off the purring engine of the Morgan, he realised Rufus was already holding the passenger door open and had extended a firm hand towards Lyn.
Some things never change.
Lyn didn't seem to need further invitation.
"I see you're still paying close attention to the ladies, old chap."
Good Lord, she's blushing?
"Manners maketh the man, Anthony. Isn’t that so?"
Ant knew the remark wasn't aimed at him.
"That rather depends on who you ask, Ruffy." He looked towards Lyn and winked.
She is blushing!
"Are you all right, Lyn? You look a bit pink around the gills. I bet it's his driving. Always was mad in his Morgan, which just about sums up Little Lord Fauntleroy."
Didn’t take you long to work your charms on Lyn.
Ant's eyes lit up.
"Such a compliment," replied Ant, enjoying every second of Lyn’s embarrassment, which also meant he couldn't help noticing her angry eyes burning into him.
"Come on you two. I'll give you a tour of the boatyard before you scratch each other's eyes out."
The yard hugged the Thames shoreline and enjoyed Windsor Castle as its backdrop. The ancient scene looked magnificent in the crisp, sunny morning.
Let's get Ruffy talking.
Rufus explained the site’s history, together with the intricacies of high-end, customised boat interiors. It was a story Ant had heard several times through the years. He knew his erstwhile friend would use the opportunity to further impress Lyn.
If her eyes widen any farther, they'll pop their sockets.
