Flesh and Blood

by Bill Kitson

  Mary had already seen to that, placing a cushion carefully under his head, and wrapping a hot water bottle in a towel before putting it alongside him. Robert and I draped the blanket she had brought over the injured man, and retired, leaving Mary talking to him, gently soothing him. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but I could tell Frank looked more relaxed than at any time since we’d found him.

  ‘They’ll probably want to keep him in hospital overnight,’ Eve told us. ‘That’s standard procedure, I believe, when they suspect someone might be suffering from concussion.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s only half the problem,’ Robert replied. ‘Even when Frank comes out of hospital, it would be grossly unfair to expect Mary to spend her time dashing between the manor and the lodge, attending to Frank and catering for us. We’ll have to fend for ourselves for a while. That’s not a problem. The important thing is getting Frank fit again. Between us, we should be able to take care of the household chores easily enough.’ He paused and looked from me to Eve. ‘Sorry, I’m presuming you’ll be staying for the time being. I forgot you might have other plans.’

  ‘There’s nothing that can’t wait,’ Eve told him. She glanced at me and saw my nod of confirmation. ‘Adam and I wouldn’t dream of deserting you. Apart from anything else, unless you or Alison or Tammy has a licence we’re the only qualified drivers.’

  ‘Good heavens, I’d not thought of that. Alison and I certainly haven’t taken our tests. Neither has Tammy as far as I know. There didn’t seem the need, living in Leeds. Anyway, that can wait. I’m going to talk to Frank and Mary, to stop them worrying.’

  ‘The better I get to know Robert, the more I like him,’ Eve told me, her tone quiet enough so that Robert couldn’t hear. ‘It makes his father and brother’s behaviour even more inexcusable.’

  I agreed, and was about to add something, but at that moment we heard the bells signalling the approach of the emergency vehicle. The fact that we were able to hear it, implied that the wind had slackened from its earlier ferocity.

  Half an hour later, having assisted the ambulance men in their task of extricating Frank from Home Wood and placing him securely in the back of their vehicle, we returned to the manor kitchen. ‘I told Mary not to worry about us,’ Robert said to Alison and Tammy, ‘which means we’re going to be self-catering for the time being. First off, I need to find out how to get Adam and Eve onto the car insurance policy. It’s unfair to expect them to drive us everywhere in their own car, using their petrol. Have either of you seen any paperwork about insurance when you were tidying up the study?’

  ‘That might not be necessary,’ Eve told him. ‘If you look inside the car, you’ll probably find either a policy or cover note in there.’

  Eve’s confident prediction was proved correct, and when we found the cover note, it had a compliments slip from a local broker attached. Robert phoned them and was put through to the director. After Eve and I had answered questions regarding our ages and driving record, we were covered to drive the Mercedes, and the confirmation of our addition to the policy would be sent in the post.

  When Robert ended the call he told us, ‘He wanted to discuss the other estate insurances, but I had to tell him I can’t commit to anything at the moment until I’ve met with the solicitor. It was strange, but he said I don’t need to worry too much about everything. What do you think he meant by that?’

  ‘It may be that he’s only playing safe, and doesn’t want to risk upsetting a potentially valuable client,’ I pointed out. Nevertheless, I was left wondering what it could be that the broker knew, or might know. Even one of my wildest guesses couldn’t have got close to the truth, and it was only after the solicitor’s visit that some of the truth began to emerge.

  Later that afternoon, Robert and I left the girls in charge of culinary arrangements and set off for the hospital to visit Frank. In my new capacity as chauffeur, I had to familiarise myself with the Mercedes, no easy task on the country lanes. However, once I got used to it, I found the car a joy to drive. As we travelled to Thorsby, Robert confided in me, which I found mildly surprising, as I’d thought of him as reserved, self-contained, up to that point.

  ‘This business is far more complicated than I imagined,’ he said. ‘Handling the estate, I mean, not the murders and so forth. Not that I ever actually did imagine owning it. I thought Stephen would have amassed a crowd of heirs by now. Of course, I still might not own it. He might have left it to the RSPCA or something.’

  ‘I doubt it, Robert. For one thing, the solicitor wouldn’t be coming to see you unless he had something to tell you. And that insurance broker seemed confident that you were the new owner of Barton Manor. If that’s the case, what’s your problem?’

  ‘There are all sorts of things, little ones when you take them individually, but when you put them together, it looks as if managing the estate is going to be a full-time job. I have no idea how we go on about paying household bills, wages, and so forth. Nor do I know what we do about things such as Frank’s accident.’

  He looked out of the window, and as I glanced at him, I saw his expression was sombre. ‘I have no idea what sort of state the manor finances are in. For all I know the estate could have a whacking great overdraft and the house could be mortgaged to the hilt. Then there are death duties to worry about. They could be an enormous burden. I don’t fancy reaching retirement age and still having to pay back huge sums because we’ve had to shell out to the Inland Revenue.’

  ‘You might get a clue as to the finances via bank statements,’ I suggested. ‘Wouldn’t your brother have kept them in the study?’

  ‘I didn’t see any sign of them when we were tidying up. They might be in the safe, or perhaps they’re in the estate office.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Over on the other side of Home Wood. It’s attached to Tony Bishop’s house, according to what Frank told me. It’s a bit inconvenient Bishop being away, to put it mildly, but I suppose he couldn’t have foreseen anything so dramatic happening during his holiday.’

  I’d had time to think further about it. ‘You could always phone the bank,’ I suggested. ‘However, I’d be tempted to wait until after you’ve seen the solicitor. He’s going to be handling probate, I assume, so why not get him to earn his money by arranging things for you. The bank will need specimen signatures and so forth.’

  ‘That is an extremely good idea, Adam. I’m afraid all this has caught me unawares, and I’m really grateful to you. And to Alison’s brother for asking you to help me.’

  We returned in the early evening, and after housing the car, made our way to the kitchen entrance. ‘Now let’s see what the witches have brewed up for us,’ I said as Robert opened the door. Fortunately, we were out of earshot of the chefs.

  Robert’s report was brief, and was mostly good news. ‘Frank has a broken arm, which they’ve set, but they don’t think he’s got concussion, which is a blessing. They’re keeping him in overnight. Mary will stay until the end of visiting time, and I’ve given her money for a taxi back to the manor. I’ve told her to report here, rather than stay at the lodge for the time being.’

  ‘He was very lucky,’ Alison said. ‘If he’d been directly under that tree when it fell, the outcome would have been far worse.’ She shivered. ‘I saw what happened to his chainsaw. I dread to think what a state he’d have been in if he’d been next to it.’

  I was about to respond, but changed my mind, remembering what Frank had told, me, and my promise to him to keep quiet. If the apparition hadn’t scared him, he would have been under that tree. It might have scared him into running from it, but in so doing it had undoubtedly saved his life, just as it could well have saved DI Hardy from hitting the black ice that had caused the death of the van driver.

  Although none of the others noticed my preoccupation, Eve knew me too well. She looked at me intently, but didn’t speak, for which I was grateful.

  I’d half-expected Eve to question me further about Frank
’s accident when we were alone in the Rose Room, but when I’d finished in the bathroom she was already in bed and fast asleep. I climbed carefully in alongside her, managing to achieve a comfortable position without disturbing her. The day had been both stressful and tiring, and I too was soon asleep.

  I’m not sure what time it was when I woke up, or rather when I was awakened, but it was still dark outside. It was Eve who had awoken me, by talking in her sleep. I listened for several minutes, but was unable to make any sense of the sounds she was uttering. I was intrigued and amused at first, but then, without warning, she turned and gripped my arm, shaking it as if trying to wake me, or point my attention to something only she could see.

  ‘What is it, Eve? What’s wrong? Are you awake, or still dreaming?’

  ‘There,’ she said, her voice loud and clear. ‘Can’t you see it? There, by the tree.’

  I couldn’t see anything. Not in the darkness of the room, and I certainly couldn’t see any trees. I’d have been convinced she was awake but for that. ‘Go back to sleep, Evie,’ I told her, and slipped my arm across her waist, hoping to comfort her. It had the opposite effect. She writhed and threw my arm off. I waited, and slowly, her breathing eased, and I knew she had dropped into deep slumber once more. I was curious as to what she had been dreaming about. It seemed the dream was ongoing, for, after some time, she began muttering again, her words indecipherable. She continued to sleep until early morning, but that sleep was restless, and at around six thirty I decided enough was enough and got out of bed. The room was cold, so I put on my dressing gown and slippers, and went across to the armchair alongside the small electric fire. I switched this on, and after angling the reading lamp away from the bed, began to read a book I’d brought from home. On a whim, I’d chosen a favourite from my early teenage years, Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur. The tales of chivalry and adventure had appealed to my romantic young mind. Quite why I’d chosen to reacquaint myself with it, I’d no idea.

  I’d been reading for around half an hour when I heard Eve say my name. I looked over at the bed, and saw that she was awake. She sat up and peered at me. ‘Is something wrong, Adam? Why are you sitting over there? What time is it?’

  ‘Just gone seven o’clock, and I’m waiting for you to tell me the result of the match.’

  ‘What match? What are you talking about?’ Eve can get a bit testy if she doesn’t get a good night’s sleep.

  ‘The football match you were playing. It must have been exciting, but I got a bit fed up of being used as the ball.’

  Her face changed abruptly and she sat bolt upright. The bedclothes fell away, which did my concentration no good. ‘You were dreaming,’ I said, which was a pretty obvious statement. ‘What was it about?’

  I’m not sure what I expected by way of a reply. However, if I’d had to make a list of possible answers, the one she gave wouldn’t have been on it. ‘We were being chased through Home Wood,’ she told me. She paused, before adding, ‘I know it sounds daft, but I dreamed we were being chased by … by a bear.’

  My face must have reflected my shock, because Eve noticed the change in my expression immediately. ‘I thought it was just a silly dream,’ she said, ‘but something tells me it wasn’t all that silly. Come on, Adam, out with it.’

  I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer, even had I wanted to. I walked over to the bed and sat alongside her as I explained what Frank had told me as we’d waited for help to arrive, and what I thought I’d seen before we found him. ‘Add that to what DI Hardy told us, and your dream, and see what you can make of it, because I have absolutely no idea what’s going on.’

  Eve thought about it for a long time before speaking. ‘I don’t understand it either, Adam, but one crumb of comfort is that whatever is causing it doesn’t seem ill-disposed. If we’re to believe what people thought they’d seen, two men would probably have died had it not been for this thing, be it real or imagined.’

  We talked for a little while longer, then I climbed back into bed. The shared knowledge had left us both shaken, and as was our custom, we comforted one another in the best way possible.

  When we went downstairs, Robert greeted us with good news. ‘I’ve spoken to the hospital, and the report on Frank is positive. The ward sister told me the doctor has seen him and is happy to discharge him when someone can collect him. Apart from a little discomfort from his broken arm, he’s as fit as a fiddle.’

  It was a relief to know that Frank had suffered no lasting ill-effects from his encounter with the ash tree, so, soon after breakfast, in my new role as chauffeur, I drove Mary to Thorsby to collect him. While I was waiting for her to return from the ward, I enquired about one of the other patients. DI Hardy, I was told, had been taken to the operating theatre to have his leg re-set, because the surgeon was unhappy with the way it was responding.

  Later, having installed Frank and Mary in the back of the Mercedes, I drove to Barton-le-Moors. On arrival, I swung into the drive and past the lodge, ignoring my passenger’s protests. ‘Sorry,’ I told them, ‘boss’s orders. You’re staying at the manor for the time being. You want to argue, take it up with Mr Pengelly. It’s more than my job’s worth to disobey his instructions.’

  As we approached the house, I resisted the temptation to take them to the front of the building. That was just as well, for everyone was awaiting our arrival by the back door. There had been a development, it seemed, while I’d been away, and a major one at that. Eve told me, as I helped Mary assist Frank to exit the car. ‘DS Holmes rang Robert half an hour ago. They’ve arrested Graeme Fletcher. Even better news, he’s confessed to having killed Stephen Pengelly and Kathy King.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Robert agreed, ‘and according to Holmes, the motive was jealousy. He sounded cock-a-hoop.’

  ‘That’s only natural,’ I replied. ‘This is his first big case, and to get a result this quickly will be a real feather in his cap. I only hope he manages to tie up all the loose ends.’

  Curiously, what should have been cause for celebration gave me a sense of anti-climax, in addition to which, something didn’t seem right. It all seemed too easy. And it still didn’t explain the break-in at the manor, or the mysterious weapon used. Neither of those questions had been answered, and that was two too many for my liking.

  With Robert on edge, awaiting the solicitor’s visit, I commandeered the phone, hoping to resolve at least one of my queries. I rang Barton-le-Dale police station and managed to get hold of Johnny Pickersgill.

  ‘We’re about to begin questioning Fletcher,’ he told me, ‘so I can’t talk for long.’

  ‘It’s about that interview I wanted a word. I’m not suggesting you’ve got the wrong man, but I think there’s more to this than simply jealousy. Do you mind if I make a suggestion?’

  ‘Why not? You normally do, whether you’re asked to or not.’

  ‘Very droll. Have you thought of a stage career? As a juggler, perhaps. Anyway, here’s what I have in mind.’

  Pickersgill listened to my idea, and agreed it made sense. ‘I’ll put it to Holmes. I’m sure he’ll agree. All joking apart, Adam, we both reckon Fletcher is lying, but we can’t work out why.’

  Chapter Eight

  Whatever Nigel Alderson might have expected when he arrived at Barton Manor, I doubt whether he could have foreseen that he would be met by a welcoming party clustered in the entrance hall. Robert greeted him, inspected his visiting card and introduced Alderson to everyone, before he and Alison ushered the solicitor into the study.

  Once the door closed behind them, the rest of us wandered back into the kitchen. Eve and Tammy insisted on helping Mary prepare the evening meal, despite her protests. She was, she told us, behind with her work as she was being hampered by Frank, who was proving to be a very impatient patient. He looked at me, a plea for help in his eyes.

  ‘Why don’t we go to the wood store, Frank? We’re going to need more logs. The ones Robert and I brought in yesterday were still a bit gr
een. If you point out which are dry enough to use, I’ll bring them in.’

  I’m not sure which of them looked more relieved, Mary or Frank. The task took some time, but as I was stacking the final load in the basket alongside the hall fireplace, Alison emerged from the study. ‘I’m on a mission,’ she told me. ‘My lord and master-to-be has commanded me to fetch tea and biscuits. He also wants everyone to join him in the study.’

  ‘They’re all in the kitchen.’

  Ten minutes later, supplied with refreshments, we listened to Robert and Alderson explain the situation. Robert began the surprising account. ‘I was quite prepared for Nigel to tell me that Stephen had died intestate, or even that he had willed the property elsewhere, but it seems that neither of those facts is correct. I’ll let Nigel tell you in detail, but I think you will find it more than a little interesting. In view of my previous history with my brother, some of what we’re going to tell you is startling, to put it mildly.’

  Alderson took up the story. ‘I think part of what Robert has just referred to relates to the letter I have just handed him, but I’ll leave him to explain that. For my part, you must know that I only took over handling the Barton Manor estate a few months ago, when my father went into semi-retirement. He told me he was more than a little exasperated by Stephen Pengelly’s reluctance to make suitable provision for anything that might happen to him. Apparently, he’d always fobbed my father off, telling him that he was far too young and healthy to worry about that sort of thing.’

  Alderson paused and sipped his tea. ‘Naturally, having taken over the account, I also tried, and got a similar response. That was how matters stood until about three months ago, when I got a phone call from Stephen, demanding an urgent appointment. By that, he said he wanted to come into our offices in Barton-le-Dale at the first available opportunity in order to make a will, have it witnessed, and to lodge a letter with us for safe keeping. He asked if it would be possible to do it the following day, but as my diary was full, I had to make it for two days later, and I could tell he was uncomfortable even with that short delay.’