Dead Certainty

by Glenis Wilson

  ‘How did you puzzle everything out, Harry?’ Sir Jeffrey held out his cup for a refill of tea.

  ‘I didn’t know Elspeth wanted me out of the picture – I was sure it was Marriot. Which, of course, it was to begin with. He was running scared for his own future, his marriage and job. Don’t forget he was dependent upon Samuel for his financial security. But Samuel most definitely wanted a grandchild. He told me so himself. It was going to come out eventually if I completed the biography. But Elspeth wanted me to finish the book. She was putting pressure on me to hurry up and finish it. Only in the last few days did she want me gone. She’d just found out Marriot had paid Carl, so would be facing charges if it came out. As a mother, she couldn’t allow that. So she had Carl Smith murdered. And set out to frame Victor – stole his golfing gloves. Paid Frank Dunston to use them.

  ‘Dunston was keeping an eye on me at the races, saw his chance, took it upon himself to use my dad’s hickory stick to try and set me up – insurance for himself, I think. And my quick phone call to the police before I went in to confront Elspeth was my own additional bit of insurance.’

  ‘Didn’t trust me, you see.’ Mike grinned.

  ‘But how did all this affect Silvie?’ Annabel nibbled on a salmon sandwich.

  ‘Elspeth never forgave Victor, although she pretended to after Marriot married into the Simpson family. She wanted the trust fund money to go to Marriot. If Silvie reached her eighteenth birthday, it would be lost to him.’

  ‘I still don’t see how you figured it all out,’ Mike said, shaking his head and smiling. ‘You could set up as a private eye.’

  ‘It helped when Aunt Rachel told me she’d seen Marriot at the fertility clinic. And it was Annabel that gave me the clue that sent me off down the right road.’

  ‘I did? What did I say?’

  I smiled across at her and Sir Jeffrey. ‘Your baby is what matters most … It made me realize how a woman’s personality changes when she has a child.’

  ‘Oh my dear, it’s wonderful you’re pregnant.’ Aunt Rachel beamed at Annabel.

  ‘Yes, it’s fabulous.’ Sunshine and pure happiness flooded her face.

  ‘The very best thing that could happen to you.’ There was a wistfulness behind her words.

  Annabel and I exchanged a swift glance.

  ‘He, or she, will need a godmother,’ Annabel murmured. ‘It’s a little premature, Rachel, but do you think you could do the honours? And George as godfather, maybe?’

  Now happiness spread across Aunt Rachel’s face. ‘Oh, yes, please.’

  I stretched across to refill her drink, felt a stiffness in my jacket inside pocket. I set down the teapot, fished in my pocket and took out the letter the postman had given me.

  ‘It’s from the hospital. I’d forgotten all about it.’

  An expectant silence fell.

  ‘Kick on, Harry,’ Annabel urged. ‘Open it.’

  I slit open the envelope, took out the letter. Read it quickly. Then looked up to find them all looking at me, waiting.

  I felt a silly grin spreading across my face.

  ‘Better saddle me a horse, Mike. I’ll be riding out first lot tomorrow.’