by Emily Selby
'I see you have some inside information.'
'Actually, I do. I was hoping we could catch up. I saw your car in the car park.'
'What do you have for me, Katie?'
She checked her watch. Thanks to the recent developments she was constantly early at work. 'I have at least twenty minutes. It’s quiet, we can sit at the table if you have time.' Katie pointed to the lounge area.
'I’ll make time for you, Katie,' Jack said and followed her.
'Do you know about the Marinos?' Katie asked quietly when they were seated. Jack sat back in the chair, his arms on the table. Katie pulled her chair to the side, so she didn't have to look straight into his deep blue eyes. She wanted to keep this chat confidential but without another fight with a butterfly hatching cycle. He had given her a chance to talk, and she wanted to use it well.
Jack nodded. 'Heard a couple of things. What are you talking about?'
'They used to own the house on the document we saw on Michael's phone. One of the names on the document looks very much like Marino,' Katie continued, encouraged by his attentive gaze. 'Did you find out what it is?'
'I've done some digital cleaning and enhancing of the photo. Looks liked it's a transfer of land agreement. Between Harold Bower and Antonio Marino. Since there is no Antonio Marino living nearby, I came to talk to Harold about it.'
'I might know where you can find Antonio Marino,' Katie said and smiled. She could still be half a step ahead of him. Not that it mattered, but she liked being useful.
'I'm all ears.' He lent over the table and flashed her a smile.
Katie pushed a thumb into her side, but it was too late. His musky smell hit her nose and a warm tingling spread in her chest.
Katie blinked. Focus!
'I've just realised,' Katie said not even trying to hide her embarrassment. She forgot to ask Dorothy. 'I don't know exactly where he is. But he died. Many years ago. Committed suicide. Apparently, he was to go to prison over some dirty deals.'
Jack looked away stroking his chin. 'Did you hear anything about the nature of those dirty deals?'
'Sadly no. I can always ask around if you like.' She held her breath, hoping he would ask her.
'That would be nice,' Jack said.
Katie stifled a 'yippee!'
'So, was it Michael's phone or not?' she asked instead.
Jack grunted. 'Michael declined to answer any more questions. He's getting a lawyer. '
'Is that why you want to interview Harold?'
'Yes and no. I'll see how it goes.'
'Apparently, Michael has been pushing to have Harold moved to a different rehab facility. Katie offered hesitantly. Would he take the bait and add more info?
Jack pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. 'I see you're well informed.'
'I see you're not keen on sharing the info you have,' she fired back, her heart pounding. 'Come on, Jack. A little bit of give and take wouldn't hurt...' she tried.
'It's a murder investigation, Katie,' he said with a hint of tone that made Katie sit back, alarmed.
'Even a double murder, inspector,' she snapped. She felt her cheeks burning again, but this time it had nothing to do with embarrassment. 'I'm only trying to help you. No need to be so condescending.'
'Whoa!' Jack's eyes opened wide. 'I-I... definitely it was not my intention to sound condescending. It's just that you're-'
'Not a police officer, right?' Katie snapped and jumped to her feet. 'I know, inspector Heaton. I know it very well. I know my humble, clerk-cum-cleaner place very well.'
She stomped off. If she could, she would have thrown him a thunderbolt or two. But clicking of her sensible shoes heels would have to do.
She'd show the DI Big City Smarty-Pants what the humble clerk-cum-cleaner could achieve.
17
Badass mood. That's what she was in. A badass mood. She might have been a humble clerk-cum-cleaner, but she had a brain. And she wasn't afraid to use it. In fact, she was going to use her so-called weaknesses to her advantage.
Katie sneaked into the nearby cleaning bay and picked up a bucket, a mop, a few wipes, and most importantly–the big yellow "Cleaning in Progress" sign. Armed with her tools, she sneaked past Harold's room and knocked on the next one.
There was no reply.
Katie pushed the handle. The door opened. The room was empty. She put up the yellow sign and entered, leaving the door slightly ajar. She grabbed one of the wipes and started working on the bookshelves on the wall separating the room from Harold's bedroom. Not too vigorously, though. She didn't want to miss anything.
Fortunately for her, Harold spoke loudly, and she could understand him, despite his slight, post-stroke speech impediment. And, even though she couldn't quite hear Jack's side of the interview it looked as though this was going to be her lucky day.
'But why are you all suddenly interested in it?' Harold demanded.
Jack's reply was barely audible through the wall. Katie heard something about investigations and a murder.
'Oh, this was ages ago. I cannot even remember when. I was quite surprised when they came forward this time round.'
A bit of mumbling, which Katie assumed was Jack's next question.
'I told you, I can't remember. Maybe a few weeks ago.'
Another pause.
'No, I don't remember the man’s name. It was Stan- something. I don't know that side of the story very well. It was a bit suspect. I didn't know Marino had a deal with him. She did it behind my back.'
Another pause.
'No. The Marinos bought the land together with the house. But then she needed money. She came and cried a lot. Something to do with debts. She begged me to help her, so I bought the plot from her and we signed a lease agreement.'
Another pause and some mumbling. Katie guessed Jack prompted Harold with another question.
'No, I told you. I had no idea about the deal between the Marinos and those other people. The man had a document properly signed by both parties. It was some sort of shared ownership agreement between the Marinos and this man's father. I guess it might have been part of the debt paying stuff. '
More mumbling and chair shuffling ensued from behind the wall. Katie pressed her ear against the wall. Maybe she could hear what Jack was saying if she just concentrated harder.
The hallway floor squeaked under somebody's feet. And mumbling of voices followed. Katie jumped, her heart pumping adrenaline through her body. She bent to wipe the dust from the bottom shelf. She worked like that for a few more seconds until the voices and the squeaking faded. She wiped the sweat trickling down her face and listened again.
Harold was speaking.
'The house on the corner by the stream. A nice plot, I can tell you. Prime location. I've been trying to get it back for years. To be honest, I've just about lost hope. But it pains me to see the place rotting away like that. Michael's trying to deal with it.'
Another pause.
'Michael in charge? Never! He's not good. I still have to make all the decisions. He's not very happy about it, of course. He's been trying to prove I've lost my mind. Why? Because he wants to take over the company. He's only a minority shareholder and employed as the operational manager.'
'If Michael could have got into any arrangements with that man? I wouldn't be surprised, to be honest. He's been desperate to prove to me he can make successful ventures, and he knows that plot of land has been a thorn in my side. But I don't think he's capable of dealing with the likes of that man.
'I bet he needs money. He's always lived above his means. Children in private schools, high maintenance wife, all that social climbing must cost a fortune.'
'Just one more question Mr Bower.' Katie heard Jack's voice. Maybe he'd moved closer to the wall? 'Why do you think these people are interested in the house? Why now after all these years?'
'I don't know. He looked dodgy. The Stanleys have always been trouble-makers, connected to the underworld.'
'But why now?'
'Thank you, Mr Bower. You’ve been very helpful. Just one more thing. Do you remember what you did on the 29th of September in the morning?
'Nah! All the days here blend into one.' Harold Bower dismissed the question.
'Would that help your memory if I suggested that this was a Friday, nearly two weeks ago and you might have been out with your son?'
'If you're so well informed, why don't you ask Michael? Or the nurses here.'
'I have. Your nurse confirmed you were out with Michael. Do you remember where you went?'
'Uhm...' Harold mumbled. There was a long pause. Katie assumed he was trying to recall the day. 'It might have been one of those trips he took me on to see that doolally doctor. Or to see that other place he wants me to move into.'
'Doolally doctor?'
'Yeah. The shrink. He put me through some stupid tests. Probably trying to check if I still have all my marbles. I have, and I've got a certificate to prove it. You can ask nurses here.'
There was a pause.
'So, if Michael took you to the doctor that day, to run some more tests, I presume Michael was not with you during those tests?'
'No. He was waiting for me outside.'
'How long did the test take?'
'Not sure, I didn't check the watch. But it was long, too long. There was some waiting in between as well.'
'So, Michael just dropped you off and picked you up after the test was finished?'
'Pretty much so. Why don't you ask the doolally doctor, he should know?'
'That's a great idea. Do you have any contact details for him?'
'Why would I? Ask Michael, he's been dealing with it.'
'You don't have a report from that doctor?'
'Nah. Not interested. Ask Michael.'
Harold's voice sounded curt, as if he wanted to end this conversation. Jack must have sensed it, or maybe he just ran out of questions.
'Thank you very much Mr Bower. I really appreciate your time. If you remember anything you think might be helpful to this investigation, could you please give me a ring?'
Harold gave a rattling laugh.
'Are you aware, young man, that I'm not even capable of dialling a number? I need help with a lot of things after the strokes. The rehab is going very slowly. Lucky, my brain is still working. Regardless of what everybody else tells you. Regardless of what that ghastly doctor told me. Anyhow. Leave your business card. No, not there, Michael will find it. Put it in my Bible. Michael won't touch the Bible. It's a good place to hide things. Yeah, thank you.'
Katie jumped away from the wall and moved to the other side of the room. She pretended to straighten the bed sheets and waited for that familiar thump of a door being closed. Once the echo of Jack's footsteps faded into the distance, she stepped into the hallway again.
So, cleaning came handy. She had learned something interesting. A lease arrangement between Harold Bower and the Marinos. Ash Stanley's chat with Harold about something else. A treasure or not hidden in the old house. Michael needing money and probably being desperate to get hold of the plot by the stream. Michael not having an alibi for the day and time of the murder. But could Michael have hired Zac to steal the ring? If yes, what for? What if the ring was part of the legendary treasure trove?
Some of it made sense. Some of it didn't. Some of the information answered the questions, but some of it just added to the confusion.
She had to organise it all in her head. Who was the best person to discuss these things with now? Certainly, DI Jack Heaton, but he’d probably be unwilling given the way he treated her earlier.
Would Dorothy know anything about some deals and family secrets from the past and the present? It was certainly a path worth exploring. And Dorothy had invited her to dinner that evening.
Katie couldn't wait.
18
Dorothy greeted Katie at the door, without crutches.
'Practising,' she explained, smiling brightly. 'The doctor's appointment is on Monday. I want to prove to her I can walk unaided. Come on in. My mum's watching her favourite soap, so we can sit in the kitchen if you don't mind.'
'No at all. Do you need any help?'
'No. The dinner's nearly ready and I'm fully capable of making tea.' Dorothy laughed. 'Don't worry. I made dinner with my occupational therapist earlier today. It was all part of the assessment.'
'Good news!' Katie followed her friend through the hallway.
'Sorry for the state of the house. The kitchen is tiny, but we have everything we need. My mother lives modestly and, as you can see, the decor has not been changed since the1980s. She's happy with that. I don't mind. I'm moving back to my place, hopefully soon. Can't wait.'
'Will you be able to manage?'
'I hope so. The main problems are the crutches, but even if the doctor says I still need a few more weeks of recovery, I can do that. As long as I don't have to live here. This jungle has been driving me crazy.' Dorothy made an exaggerated shuddered pointing at the wallpaper. Katie couldn't deny that the walls covered in dark green leaves and vines made her feel stifled.
'Have you been arguing with your mother?'
'Not arguing. I'm not an arguing type. But I must admit, I've run out of excuses to pretend not to hear what she says or simply tolerate some of her little quirks. I love her to bits, but there's a reason why parents shouldn't live with their grown-up children and the other way around.'
Dorothy laughed, and Katie joined in. Her relationship with her own mother was not as close as she would have wished.
'I also get on with my mother from afar. I love that. She's a wonderful grandmother, but I don't think I could live with her again.'
'How is she doing these days? Is she happy?'
Katie sat back and observed Dorothy pottering around and making tea. The woman was a bit of a mystery. She knew a lot of things, but how on earth did she know Katie’s mother had happiness issues. Had Katie ever told her about it?
The kettle boiled, and Dorothy poured water into the teapot.
'I'll reheat the dinner when my mum finishes watching her series.' She added and put two teacups on the table. 'You haven't answered my question,' Dorothy observed. 'Are you wondering how I know about your mother?'
'Actually, yes! Are you a mind reader?'
Dorothy wiggled her eyebrows. 'I'm a bit of a witch,' she whispered and winked.
'Yeah, right. Show me the evidence,' Katie said, realising she just made a classic Jack Heaton move. She pressed her lips hard as she didn't want to smile.
'You honestly can't remember? We had a chat about it when I was in hospital. You came to visit me, but you wanted to get out of there so much. This was when you told me about those excruciating visits in hospital when your mother was depressed.'
'Ah, yes, now I remember. Your memory is excellent and you’re really good at reading people. I wish I could be like you.'
'But you are pretty good at reading people. That's why we're sitting here. You have some questions, I understand.'
Katie wrapped her hands around her mug, thinking about what she'd heard recently and all the questions she had.
'Thank you for all those kind words and for listening to me. Yes, I do have some questions about your neighbours. I heard a story today and I'm trying to make sense of it. Do you remember what happened to the derelict house behind the Dunbar place?'
Dorothy added sugar into her tea. 'Let me think,' she said, stirring. She mumbled to herself for a few seconds. 'I can't remember it very well, because I was only a little girl back then. It was something to do with debts. They couldn't afford to live in it, but for whatever reason they couldn't
sell it either. There was some sort of strange arrangement done over it.'
Or maybe even more than one, judging by what Katie had overheard earlier.
'What about the house next door?'
'That's the older brother's. He was a builder, working for Harold Bower. The parents came to live with him.'
'How come the younger brother could afford a big detached house?'
'Good question. Apparently, he wasn’t a builder. I think he had some sort of artisan business, which is why he needed the workshop.'
'My workshop?'
'Yes, that’s the one.'
'Hang on,' Katie said, suddenly remembering a snippet of conversation from a couple of days ago. 'I think I know what he did. Sofia told me he made jewellery.'
'There you go. I told you you're good at reading between the lines,' Dorothy said and sipped her tea.
'Interesting. The treasure trove may not be such a legend after all,' Katie said. 'Do you think Sofia's father could have left some of his work materials? I mean, precious stones, or metals hidden somewhere in the house? Or...' Katie paused as she realised the potential possibilities in her discovery.'...even better, in the workshop?'
Dorothy glanced at Katie from over her teacup.
'The Marinos didn't strike me as people who had money. Not back then and not now. If there was a treasure hidden somewhere in the house, or in the workshop, wouldn't they be all living here, trying to find it?'
Katie heaved a sigh. She drummed her fingers on the table.
'Maybe it was a secret? Maybe Grandfather Marino hid it all in the workshop? And the ring is part of the treasure. Now a ring has been found, they want to get hold of the rest.'
Dorothy shook her head. 'The workshop belonged to William Dunbar for a long time, Katie. I'm afraid your theory doesn't work. And who is 'they', by the way?'
That was a good question. Katie gnawed on her lower lip again.
'The Marinos. I suppose that's why they're here.'
Dorothy sipped her tea again. 'I agree, it might explain why they turned up here, but why aren't they doing anything with the house?'
