Legacy of Lies

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘Anyway, as I was saying. Boggarts, bogles, tiddymen, black dogs, they had them all in plenty to say nothing of the various water sprites and Lord knows what else. Rupert loved all that stuff, went about collecting the residual tales and adding them to the established ones. He said it was amazing just what oral history could preserve.’ Marcus chuckled fondly. ‘I think it actually troubled him that these mythical beings had been displaced. In fact I think it troubled him almost more than the displacement of the actual people.’

  Derek Reid had wandered out into the barn to check the car. He’d brought a gallon container of petrol to top up the tank, or at least provide enough for an emergency. His little red car was economical, but Sam’s bloody great Ford Granada was thirsty. Derek reckoned it was an odd choice of car. Not even one of the newer models – newer, he laughed, hadn’t they stopped making them ten years or so ago? It was a big black thing with electric everything, the sort Sam would have owned back in the eighties.

  Sam wasn’t good at moving on, not even in the small ways, Derek thought.

  He unlocked the cap and poured the petrol into the tank. He reckoned it would be about half full by now. He’d been bringing in a gallon a day from one petrol station or another for the past ten days and Sam had only made a couple of short trips out so, added to what he already had in the tank, there should be ample there for anything he might need to do.

  The sun shining through the double doors didn’t quite reach to the back of the building. Derek wandered back into the shadows and regarded the second car parked there. Boy, that had taken some getting back here. The Austin Healey was a quirky little number, that was for sure.

  He shook his head, recalling the events of that day. Heavy rain, despite it being the middle of June. Glowering clouds. He’d been half frozen waiting. Sam wouldn’t let him stay in the car, said he had to stand and wait where Rupert could see him. Then they’d forced the old man into Sam’s car and brought him back here.

  Derek went over, stroked the ageing vehicle. He kind of liked the look of it, quirks and all. It had character.

  Sighing, Derek picked up his petrol can and made his way back upstairs to where Sam waited in the partially completed conversion. The owners had once had big ideas, Derek thought. The house wasn’t up to much but it was all mod cons up here. Or would have been had they got around to finishing.

  ‘Here,’ Sam Kinnear handed him a slip of paper. ‘Stuff I want and things to do, and keep away from that bitch. She’s not part of the plan, Derek, remember that.’

  Derek nodded, taking the list from Kinnear’s hand.

  ‘Fuel in the car,’ he said. ‘Plenty for tomorrow. You still want me along?’

  Kinnear scowled. ‘And what sort of a question is that.’

  Derek shrugged. ‘Better be off,’ he said. ‘It was the funeral this morning, I went to check the place out like you said. There’s just the two of them there, I reckon. We could have …’

  ‘Could have what?’

  ‘I don’t know, gone there while they were at the funeral.’

  Kinnear stared hard and Derek shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze. ‘Bit too late for that,’ he said. ‘I want him to know. I want the bastard to be afraid. Just like the old man.’

  Derek nodded and left as swiftly as he could without actually running. He started his little car and drove away, relief at being away from Kinnear growing as he put the miles between them. He thought about Sharon and he smiled.

  ‘And she’s not a bitch,’ he told the absent Sam Kinnear.

  Six

  They took a taxi back to Fallowfields, leaving the car parked where Alec had left it round the back of Marcus’s shop. Wholly Marcus’s shop now, Alec thought.

  Alec had not spoken on the return trip, he sat lost in thought with Napoleon beside him on the back seat. Naomi chatted with the driver; her sleek black companion the predictable focus of their conversation.

  Back at Fallowfields, Alec helped her from the car and then stood outside the front door as though something was bothering him.

  ‘Don’t say you’ve forgotten the keys,’ Naomi teased.

  ‘No, I have them here.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘I think someone’s been here.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Tyre tracks,’ Alec said. He left her side and she heard him crunch across the gravel.

  ‘How can you tell in the gravel?’ she asked. ‘They’re probably ours anyway.’

  ‘No.’ Alec’s voice came from low down so she guessed he was crouched or kneeling.

  ‘What do you see?’

  ‘Well, there’s a grass verge, then flower beds each side of the gravel drive. It looks to me like someone turned their car around and the back wheels ran on to the verge and then into the bed. There are deep ruts.’

  ‘Not there yesterday?’

  ‘No. I’m sure of that. There’s been no rain here for a while, then we had that torrential downpour early this morning. Not enough to soak the verge; that’s still hard, though you can see where the grass has been crushed because it’s not been mown in, I’d say, several weeks. The flower bed though, that did allow the wet to penetrate and there are tyre tracks and the plants have been crushed. The leaves are still green so …’

  ‘So someone came here while we were out.’ Naomi thought about it. ‘Someone lost? Needing to turn around?’

  ‘If they only needed turning space there’s plenty down at the road end of the drive. If someone came here asking for directions, which I think is unlikely, then they were unusually careless turning round. There’s plenty of space for manoeuvre, Nomi. Whoever swung around here did it in a hurry and either didn’t pay attention or didn’t care what they drove over. Plus, I’d say they spun their wheels. There are deep indents in the gravel and it’s been sprayed out on to the verge. That’s what I noticed first.’

  ‘Odd.’ She reached out and pushed the door. ‘Still locked. What about the side gate?’

  She heard Alec crunch across the drive again and shake the wooden gate. ‘Locked,’ he said.

  ‘I hear a but in your voice.’

  ‘Not a but, just a maybe. I’m wondering how hard it would be to climb.’

  ‘Best check inside and round the back.’

  Naomi heard him slide the key into the lock. She followed him inside, Napoleon trotting behind her, nuzzling at her hand and clearly puzzled as to what was going on. ‘Anything wrong in here?’

  ‘Not that I can see.’

  She waited in the hall while he checked from room to room. The French doors in the dining room were old fashioned and fastened with a large key that hung from a hook hidden behind the curtain. The back door in the kitchen had a bolt and a deadbolt, she recalled. Window locks on the front windows had been fastened before they went out. Windows at the rear were old and not as secure. Alec had taken her on a tour on their first night, making sure she knew how each door fastened and that she could manage everything for herself.

  ‘Anything?’ she asked again as he came back into the hall.

  ‘No, it all looks fine. I don’t know, maybe I’m being a bit paranoid. It could easily have been someone took a wrong turn or something.’

  ‘You don’t believe that,’ Naomi said.

  ‘No, I don’t believe that.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know about you but I could use a coffee. I really shouldn’t drink at lunchtime.’

  Naomi giggled. ‘Poor old thing. Look, I’ll see if I can manage coffee and you get up to Rupe’s study. I know you’re itching to get in there after what Marcus said.’

  ‘That obvious am I?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Sure you can manage?’

  ‘I think so. You put everything next to the kettle on the right-hand counter?’

  ‘I did. Give me a shout and I’ll carry the tray.’

  ‘Will do.’ She waited until he had run up the stairs and then she reached out to rest her hand on the wall. Layers of thick paint covered what felt like mouldings
but which Alec told her was some kind of embossed paper. She let her hand slide down to find the dado rail. ‘First door, living room. Right. Corner, then kitchen door. Counter. OK. Now, Napoleon, two steps down and then, I think, about two steps to the table? Yes, right.’ She found the nearest chair and hung her bag on the back. ‘Counter to the right. Ah, kettle. Bit of a challenge this, Dog.’

  She heard his tail thump against the cupboard door as he wagged. ‘Sink.’ She followed the counter round and felt the cold metal of the draining board beneath her fingers, found the taps and placed her finger close to the spout so she could check that the water was directed into the right place. ‘Hope that’s not too full. Should have thought to bring my coffee maker, Dog. If we’re going to be here long I think we’ll have to buy one. I’m not a big fan of instant.’

  Napoleon grunted agreement.

  ‘Mugs. Bet he didn’t think to leave them out. Second cupboard I think he said. Yes, right. You know, Napoleon, I’d love to be able to see this place. Or maybe I wouldn’t, might be scared off by the decor. I mean, who gloss paints wallpaper, hey?’

  She busied herself with the rest of the coffee making, pleased at how well she managed. True, it took her a bit of time to navigate around a strange kitchen, but Alec had taken time and trouble to make sure she was familiar with most of it. It felt good to be able to take control. Another big step.

  ‘And what do you make of it all?’ she asked the dog. ‘Did Uncle Rupert meet with foul play?’ She chuckled at her own sententious tone. ‘Or is old Marcus allowing his imagination to run away with him?’

  Napoleon grunted again. ‘You think so, do you? Yes, I’m inclined to agree. There’s something not quite right here and I’ve a nagging feeling that you and I are going to be stuck here in the back of beyond whilst Alec tries to find out what.’

  Alec guided her to an old leather chair that stood beside the wall and she sipped her coffee and listened to him riffling through the desk drawers, the captain’s chair in which he sat squeaking in mild protest as he finally leaned back and lifted his own cup from the blotter.

  ‘Did you find the laptop?’

  ‘No, definitely not in here. His notes seem to be where Marcus said they would be and there’s also a stick drive in here. I’ll try it in my computer later, see what’s on it. Funny, I half expected to find a stack of manky floppy disks, not a stick drive, but then I wouldn’t really have credited Uncle Rupe with entering the computer age.’

  ‘Marcus reckoned he was a bit of a wiz.’

  ‘So he did.’

  ‘What are the notes like?’

  ‘Well, they’re just readable, I suppose. I don’t imagine Rupe expected to have to show them to anyone else.’ He sat forward and set the mug down with a bump.

  ‘Thought of something?’

  ‘Hmm, yes. When I stayed here I seem to remember Rupert having a safe or strongbox or something. I wonder …’

  ‘You remember where?’

  ‘A floorboard, I think. Somewhere over near the fireplace. Let’s see.’

  The wooden boards creaked as he knelt down and pulled back the rug and Naomi heard him tapping at the floor.

  ‘Won’t it all sound hollow?’ she asked. ‘It’s a floor. The only bit that won’t will be where the joists cross.’

  ‘Well, yes, but … I’m trying to remember. Something loose, I think, that could be lifted. God, it was so long ago, I just can’t …’

  He fell silent and Naomi fancied she could almost hear the cogs turning as he thought about it. ‘I’m on the wrong side,’ he decided. She heard him shuffling and tapping in a different place.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Found it?’

  ‘I just need something to …’ Keys jangled as he searched his trouser pockets, found the little multi-blade penknife that their young friend Patrick had given him for Christmas. ‘Just need to slide the blade down. There!’

  She heard him lift something from the hole, metal scraping on wood as he caught the boards on either side. He came over to where she sat and dropped down on to the floor at her feet. ‘I don’t have the key but I think Patrick’s knife might get me in.’ He poked and scraped and levered and Naomi heard the lid break free of its catch and drop back against the floor.

  ‘Well? Talk to me. What do you see?’

  Alec sat back on his heels and riffled through the contents. ‘It’s all a bit ordinary really,’ he said. He didn’t really know what he’d expected but felt oddly disappointed. ‘Just his passport and some insurance documents, for the house, it looks like and … well, there’s a couple of floppy disks and this.’

  ‘This? Can’t see, remember.’

  ‘A locket,’ Alec said. ‘Heavy, gold, engraved. Looks Victorian to me.’ He fumbled with the tiny catch. ‘There’s a lock of blonde hair inside.’ He closed it up and passed it to Naomi, watching as she fondled the oval shape and the heavy belcher chain.

  ‘Pretty,’ she said. ‘There’s some weight to it, too.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose not. I just have the feeling that I’ve seen it before.’

  ‘Quite likely when you were here,’ Naomi commented. ‘You knew about the box, you probably saw what was inside. You’d have just forgotten, I expect.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you’re right. It just seems a little out of place.’

  ‘Could it have been a family piece? Rupert’s mother’s, something like that? It would probably be the right age to be a family piece.’

  ‘Likely so.’ He laughed. ‘I knew there’d be some floppy disks somewhere. The stick drive was just too much.’

  ‘Pity you can’t look at them. Your laptop doesn’t have a floppy drive, does it?’

  ‘No, a lot of the newer ones don’t. Still, I can have a read of what’s on the stick drive and I’ll bet the shop computer will have a floppy drive. I expect Marcus will be happy enough to let me use that.’

  He took Naomi’s hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘More coffee,’ he said. ‘You get the kettle on again and I’ll dig out the laptop and I’ve got a phone call to make.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Marcus gave me the name of the officer who dealt with finding Uncle Rupe. I’m hoping, as a professional courtesy, he’ll agree to meet us where Rupert was found.’

  It’s disturbing, the way one drifts through life and never really thinks about what will happen when one is no longer there. All of the flotsam and jetsam collected through life will belong to someone else and all of the responsibilities passed on.

  I hope I won’t leave too many of those but there are a few. I will, of course, do my best to sort the problems before I pass on, but as another birthday approaches far too fast, I realize that I really ought to set things in order.

  Marcus has talked about making a will and I think I will make mine too. It will all go to Alec, of course. There is no one else, really. Elaine will be settled as I’ve always promised myself, but the rest can go to Alec. I loved the boy and I respect the man. I don’t know of many who have fulfilled all their youthful promise, but it seems to me that he has and it is good to know that even as we have both grown older there has been room for the occasional letter and that he is still capable of enjoying our humorous swipes at life.

  So, I will make my will and leave it all to Alec and hope he has the sense to trust his old uncle and not to dig too deep into things not his, or by that time, my concern.

  Seven

  It had rained during the night but the temperature remained high and Naomi had not slept well. She and Alec had their breakfast on the terrace, the air heavy with the scent of roses and damp grass and filled with birdsong and the sounds of one very happy dog rolling in the damp grass.

  ‘Sure you’ll be all right?’ Alec asked.

  ‘I’ll be fine. I just want to laze for a while. Your taxi should be here in a few minutes. I’m going to sit here for a bit and then explore the house, on my own, no one to see when I fo
rget where I am.’

  Alec laughed. ‘I know when I’m not wanted but, Naomi, make sure you have your mobile with you all the time, just in case.’

  His taxi arrived and Alec set off to retrieve his car from the pub where they’d had lunch the day before. Naomi continued to sit, enjoying the sun and the warm, fragrant air and debating whether or not she could be bothered to go and make herself more tea.

  When the doorbell rang it took her by surprise.

  ‘Who on earth is that?’

  Napoleon scampered back on to the terrace and Naomi stood irresolute. She wasn’t properly dressed yet, hadn’t bothered to do more than pull on sweatpants and a T-shirt, and it occurred to her that this might be some friend or acquaintance of Rupert’s who had not heard the news of his death.

  The bell rang again, this time followed by loud knocking. Whoever it was didn’t seem about to go away.

  Slowly, Napoleon at her side, she made her way back through the house. The banging had not ceased. Naomi decided she wasn’t keen on opening the door.

  ‘Hello, who is it?’

  The banging stopped.

  ‘Hi, who’s there?’ Naomi asked again.

  There was a pause, then: ‘I want to talk to the new owner.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Look, just open the door and let me in. I told you, I want to talk to the bloke Rupert left this place to.’

  Naomi had decided she was definitely not going to let this man in but she felt stupid and childish talking through the door. She fumbled for the chain and fastened it in place before cracking it open just a little. ‘I’m afraid he isn’t available at the moment. If you’d like to leave a message …’

  ‘What are you? His bloody answering service?’

  Naomi didn’t reply. She had, as Alec had instructed, slipped her mobile phone into the pocket of her sweatpants and she debated now if she should use it. Alec’s number was on speed dial, but how soon could he get back?

  ‘If you take that tone,’ Naomi said, ‘then you can damned well stay outside. If you have a message to give tell me now then clear off.’