Cherringham--Too Many Lies

by Matthew Costello

  Jack played his last card, hoping that Sarah had by now found what they needed.

  “Because, turns out — as I guess you know — your wife, besides sleeping with the man, told Syms all about it.”

  A finer whisky glass would have been crushed in Coleman’s angry tightening grip.

  “He didn’t have enough to blackmail you. Yet. But Carl — we both know the way Syms operates. He digs dirt. Digs deep. You knew what would happen if you didn’t deal with him — and fast. And I guess, you did what any man might do in such circumstances … when absolutely everything is on the line.”

  “Bullshit. You have nothing. Just Syms’s lies.”

  “You threatened him — and his ‘pretty assistants’, didn’t you? Those words, they struck me at the time — but I didn’t know why. Thing is — I can hear your voice saying them. Then you decided, mere words … not enough, hmm? So tonight. The firebomb. Your secret safe. Maybe the vote to develop the Village Hall, safe.”

  “You have nothing. No proof, nothing at—”

  Which is when — at last, and not a moment too soon — Sarah walked into the room.

  “’Fraid,” she said slowly, “we do. Right now.”

  “What? Bloody hell, where did you come from? Look, I have rights and—”

  Sarah carried on, “And I just sent all the relevant files, transactions from your computer — to mine. Shows how you were financially — and secretly — tied to the hotel project. And no one knew — not even Ross Leisure.”

  Jack saw Coleman frown, then glance to the living room window — to his Tesla parked outside.

  The Tesla, with the shotgun in the trunk, thought Jack, stepping across to block the way if Coleman tried to run for it.

  “Don’t even think it, Carl,” he said. “You’re in plenty trouble as it is.”

  Jack — as he spoke — had pulled out his phone. “Right, Alan. We’re at Coleman’s now. Think you can? Good. See you in a minute.”

  Carl Coleman — now exposed, the truth out, and the police on their way — had the shocked face of a man who had taken a big gamble, and just learned he had lost it all.

  16. The Vote

  Sarah looked around the meeting room of the Village Hall. The council, now headed — on an emergency basis — by their friend Tony Standish, had decided that despite everything, the all-important vote should take place.

  Like a lot of people, Sarah guessed that Tony felt — with the village being so divided — it had to end.

  Ted Ross sat to the right of the stage with his assistants.

  No Callum, not after Syms, trying to deal his way out of legal trouble, had revealed that Callum Ross had funded his operation.

  The son had wanted to head the company so badly that he’d planned a real coup against his father, by bringing down his father’s massive project, with the intention of resurrecting a cheaper version at a later date.

  Another bad gamble, she thought.

  And to the left, the now leaderless army of “Save Our Hall” volunteers. Syms was still in custody, “helping police with their enquiries”.

  Chloe sat with them — many of the group probably still rattled by the fire the night before.

  “Jack, we still doing dinner later, at the Spotted Pig? No matter the vote?”

  “Absolutely. And is Chloe—?”

  “Yup. Coming, as well. And Grace.”

  “Great. So all we need do is, um, sit through the vote.”

  At that she laughed.

  “Yeah. That’s all …”

  And with a bang of a gavel from the front, Tony Standish started the meeting.

  *

  He plunged right into the vote. No discussion or debate tonight.

  The council members had heard it all, and though there were compelling arguments on either side, now they had to vote.

  Out loud, one by one.

  That vote could have ended in a deadlocked tie, Sarah knew.

  But with Coleman resigned and putting together his legal defence, there was now an odd number of council members.

  So there would be no tie.

  Each member voted — some clearing their throats as if not exactly sure that they were doing the right thing.

  History at play here, Sarah knew. But also, Cherringham’s future, the money so vital.

  Could the village even survive without it?

  Vote after vote, until, after an electric few minutes, the audience became perfectly still.

  It was down to the last vote.

  That vote to be made by Tony.

  As someone who did not like the spotlight at all, this had to be hard for him, Sarah guessed.

  He looked at the packed audience, spilling out of the hall as if the whole of Cherringham was here. Then his eyes fell on Jack, Sarah.

  Even they had no clue what he was about to do.

  “I vote …” He paused. “I vote, on the matter at hand, Ross Leisure Holdings’ proposed development of a hotel and restaurant on this historic site …”

  His words dramatic. No simple ‘yea’ or ‘nay’ for him.

  “I vote ‘no’.”

  And the room erupted.

  *

  Jack looked around. Some villagers shaking their heads in dismay. Others cheering, clapping each other on the back.

  He looked to Chloe and her friends nearly dancing in front of the stage.

  “Well, they’re happy,” he said to Sarah. “Good, I guess.”

  He saw that Sarah had looked around as well.

  “Still, look Jack … some of those faces. Some people far from pleased. This may not solve anything.”

  For a moment, Jack was about to say … this is Cherringham, it will all be okay.

  But with all the competing cheers and boos, he wasn’t sure of that at all.

  What now? he thought.

  Which is when the doors from the back banged open, and, amazingly, a voice that Jack well knew — one that he never thought of as particularly loud or powerful — somehow cut through the competing din from each side.

  “All right,” the woman said, voice raised. “That will be quite enough.”

  *

  Then — an amazing moment — everyone did stop their competing cheers and boos to turn, and see Lady Repton herself walking up the narrow aisle, with her grandson Simon behind her.

  “Jack,” Sarah said, “what on earth is going on here?”

  “Beats me …”

  Lady Repton walked to the apron of the stage area, below the council, nodding.

  “People tell me nothing, it would seem. Not even that there were plans to actually tear down this hall, and replace it with a hotel, a fancy restaurant?”

  At that she laughed. “We already have a fine hotel in the village, good neighbours, and thanks to my grandson here another but a few miles outside. And as for a great restaurant, do we really need something better than the Spotted Pig?”

  “Wherever is this going?” Sarah repeated.

  Jack wasn’t at all sure. But he had to admit, as entertainment it was priceless.

  “So, I am given to understand that the hall bleeds money. Welcome to whatever century this is. But what is money? I mean, look around this place. The history, the care put into the building’s preservation. So renovate, yes. Keep it in good condition. Modernise even! But … change it?”

  As a last flourish, Lady Repton thrust her hand towards her grandson who immediately slipped her a narrow black folder.

  “Now, can someone please tell me. How much do we — all of Cherringham — actually need to keep everything the way it was? To keep Cherringham in the black, so to speak?”

  At that announcement, the crowd, and even the council were mute.

  It was that shocking, Jack thought.

  Lady Repton urged, “Come on, I can’t spend the whole night here. Tony — surely you have figures?”

  At that, Tony, a big grin in his face, expecting the war over the hall to continue, stood up. “Why, yes, we do, Lady Repton
, and I—”

  “Good. Now furnish Simon here with the figure and let’s put an end to it. Let’s save this place and the village and what’s the phrase? Yes … get on with it!”

  And everyone — Jack and Sarah, both sides of the debate — all began clapping and cheering …

  The Village Hall was safe … and so was Cherringham.

  Epilogue: One Last Surprise.

  Sarah looked around the Spotted Pig. “Glad we made a reservation. Not a table to be had!”

  Jack nodded. “A real celebration. For both sides.”

  She turned to Chloe, sitting to her left, and Grace across from Jack.

  “And, if I might ask — Chloe, Grace — how are your martinis?”

  “You know, Jack,” Chloe said, “packs a bit of a wallop for me.”

  And Jack laughed.

  Such a great sound, Sarah thought. You hear that, and all is well in the world.

  “Me too!” said Grace.

  Grace, Sarah thought. Her last weeks working with her, looming. Soon the marriage … and then she’d be Glasgow bound.

  She looked up as Julie, co-owner of the restaurant with Sam, came over.

  “You folks see anything you like? Jack?”

  “Always,” said Jack. “For me, the fillet. Bit of a celebration. Nice and rare.”

  “Of course. And Sarah?”

  “Me too,” said Sarah. “Though more of a medium.”

  Then she heard the two young women order the salmon.

  This dinner, in the light of everything, so special.

  A storm weathered, Sarah thought.

  And then, talk of events

  *

  “So,” Chloe said, “Ralph Syms admitted to the police that he had arranged …”

  “Yes,” Sarah said, “to have one of his accomplices attack him. The wound supposed to be nothing at all.”

  “But designed to garner sympathy,” Jack added. “Pretty clever.”

  “What a rotter,” Grace said.

  “In a lot of ways,” Chloe added. “And Ted Ross, and his son?”

  “Oh,” Jack answered, “Callum Ross has been banished, I imagine. Not sure where he will end up. Let’s hope somewhere far from the Cotswolds.”

  At that, they all laughed.

  “And Carl Coleman … I mean, it’s amazing,” Chloe said, “that it wasn’t about his wife. And that he would risk hurting, or even killing someone?”

  “Yup,” Jack said. “Hear they are working out charges. But his life has been changed. One bad decision, and everything’s gone.”

  The sober words seemed to hang there for a moment. Each taking another sip of the perfectly icy martinis.

  Sarah felt it was time.

  “Chloe, I had an idea …”

  “Yes?”

  She felt Jack looking at her.

  This would be a surprise for him as well.

  “You know our Grace here is sorting her final wedding plans, and then arranging the move to Glasgow …”

  She let the words hang.

  Chloe turned and gave Grace’s hand a pat.

  “It’s going to be hard for me and my work when she goes … busy season, holidays coming.”

  Sarah knew — so far — Chloe didn’t have a clue.

  “So, I was thinking … I mean … you did such an amazing job with that French translating, even that bit of layout, would you—?”

  Sarah didn’t have to finish.

  “Mum! You mean, come and help from time to time? In the office?”

  But Sarah shook her head.

  “No. I don’t really mean help. I mean — a job. A proper job. For as long as you want. I know you will eventually move on. But for now, well, I could really use—”

  She didn’t get to finish as Chloe got up from her chair, and came and wrapped her arms around her mother.

  “Of course. That would be brilliant! There is, of course, the matter of my salary to discuss.”

  Sarah laughed. “Totally negotiable.”

  “Also, if I get to help you and Jack with the detective work …”

  “Whoa,” said Sarah, laughing and catching Jack’s eye. “Think maybe that’s not negotiable — for now.”

  Chloe laughed too.

  Sarah reached out for her long-stemmed martini glass. She saw another look in Jack’s eyes.

  As if an expression could say … well done.

  “To new beginnings!”

  All four glasses raised — clinks — the moment toasted.

  Because it was a good night in Cherringham.

  Cherringham — A Cosy Crime Series

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