by Ann Granger
'It's up to them, the sisters, to turf him out. Whatever he claims, it's their house and he's their guest.'
'Don't they just wish they could? They didn't want him there in the first place. He invited himself. But they accept he's family and they felt obliged to let him come and to give him a bed now he's here . . .'Juliet hissed with annoyance and bit a lump out of her doughnut. 'Besides,' she added indistinctly, 'how can two elderly women, one of whom - Florence - is very frail, force their will on someone who's young, fit, determined and utterly without scruple. Because, believe me, he is unscrupulous.'
'Yes, somehow I can believe that,' Meredith nodded. After a moment, she asked, emphasising her question with a wave of a chip, 'We can be sure he is a real, genuine, on-the-level Oakley? After all, that's what it all rests on, isn't it? He could have heard about William Oakley in some way we don't know. There are lots of books about celebrated historical crime cases. Perhaps there's an obscure book somewhere which includes the Oakley case and this man, whoever he is, has got hold of a copy? Can we be sure of his identity?'
"Fraid so,' Juliet mumbled through a further mouthful of doughnut. She swallowed and added more clearly, 'Wish I could say he wasn't who he says. I asked to see his passport. There it was, Jan Oakley.'
'There are such things as false passports, you know.'
'Tempting thought. But even if he'd found an account of the trial somewhere, it's hard to believe he'd go to the lengths of getting a fake passport. Anyway, he's able to provide a lot more plausible detail and we can't say it's untrue because we have no record of what happened to William after he left the district following his acquittal. His own son had to go to the courts to get him declared dead, if you remember.'
'And this Jan is able to tell us what happened to William?'
'The whole thing,' said Juliet glumly. 'It seems Wicked William wandered around Europe for a while, travelling as fancy took him across the Austro-Hungarian empire. Eventually he fetched up in Krakow which
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the Austrians controlled then. There he had a bit of luck. He found another wealthy woman to marry, this time a Polish merchant's widow with several business interests. Jan's even got a photograph, a sepia thing, showing William and his second wife. Where would he get that from if it wasn't in the family? I mean, I know there are any number of old portrait photos around, but this ties in with everything else he says. I tell you one thing, she must have had money because William certainly didn't marry her for her looks! In the photo, William himself looks much as he does in that portrait Damaris has got, and thoroughly pleased with himself as well. So, William ran the businesses, used his wife's money to make more, managed to keep his hands off the maidservants, and prospered. Who says crime doesn't pay?'
'Not Alan. He says crime pays too many people too well. Not the yobs who end up in gaol. The big boys, who don't.'
'Jan's a yob,' said Juliet fiercely. 'I'd love to see him in gaol. Tell Alan I'm working on it and actually, I'd like some help. That's why I'm here, talking to you.'
Meredith sipped her coffee and winced. 'I've already tried that on Alan. He says we don't have anything against Jan. Just being who he is and being here when he isn't wanted, isn't a criminal offence.'
'Extorting money is,' retorted Juliet.
Startled, Meredith put down her cup. A group of teenagers laden with trays pushed their way past the table. When she could speak again, Meredith said, 'Are you sure about this, Juliet? I thought the Oakleys didn't have any money. They're selling the house to realise some capital.'
'Hoping to sell the house,' corrected Juliet. 'That's what gave Jan his chance. You'd better hear the rest of it. This is Jan's version, by the way. Naturally we've not had a chance to check out any of it yet. Here goes. William's Polish wife died first and left everything to him. When William died, his will left all his property to his children equally.'
Juliet held up a slender forefinger tipped, perhaps surprisingly, with a magenta-painted nail. 'OK, he had two children in Poland, a boy and a girl. But he also had a child in England, remember, whom he didn't see fit to mention by name. It's clear he wanted to keep his Polish property out of the hands of his English son. William was. without a doubt, a double-dyed stinker of the first degree.
'But, and here's the rub, what did he mean by "all his property"? Did he mean his English property, too? His daughter died of diphtheria before the First World War. His Polish son inherited all the Polish property and business interests. After the First World War, Krakow became part of
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Poland again, but nothing changed for the Oakleys. The present Jan's grandfather carried on running the businesses. We'd know nothing about them if it wasn't for the fact that they lost everything under the Communists. Our Jan's own father inherited nothing. The Polish family fell into poverty and its only surviving member is the Jan we've got here. With the change of regime in Poland, a lot of people are trying to get back sequestrated property. Our Jan - I call him that for want of anything better - started going through the family papers. Originally he wanted to get together a case to put to the present Polish government for restitution of interests lost under Communism. But hey! What does he find? A copy of the will of his English great-grandfather. To sum up, he says he has a claim on a share of William's English estate, represented now by Fourways. Because, you see, though Cora had the money, the house, Fourways, belonged to William. If the sisters now sell it, he wants half the money. His argument is that, under the will, his grandfather should have inherited half William's English estate, and that's the half Jan is claiming now. Damaris and Florence have been knocked completely all of aheap.'
'You need legal advice,' said Meredith promptly. 'I'm not the one you should be talking to. Try Laura, Alan's sister. She's a solicitor.'
T know that. As it happens, she acts for the Oakley sisters. I went with them to see her, and she told us that she's never had a case like it. She needs time to look it up, but her first reaction was that Jan hasn't a leg to stand on. We don't know that the will he's talking of is genuine. We haven't seen it, only a certified translation Jan brandished under Laura's nose. Even if it is on the level, and even given that Continental family law is different from English family law, we're talking here of a will drawn up before the First World War, in a foreign city under the control of an empire which no longer exists. All independent records have long been lost. Plus, says Laura, William was declared dead legally here and his estate disposed of quite properly at the time.'
'So,' said Meredith, biting off the end of a chip, 'tell Jan to buzz off back to Poland.'
T did, and he said he will take the matter to an English court. Appeal to the famous British justice and fair play, as he put it.' Juliet uttered a sound which could only be described as a growl. 'And, as Laura says, if he does that, it could drag on, whatever the outcome. The law is slow. It could hold up the sale of Fourways. It would cost the sisters both money and time. But time, you see, is what they don't have. We're talking here of women in their eighties who want to be settled in a new home before
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the coming winter. They only have a few months, it comes down to weeks, to sell, buy anew and move. Jan knows that. That's where he's being clever.'
T see . . . Meredith said slowly. 'So you think he's trying to force an out-of-court settlement from them?'
'I'm positive of it. From his viewpoint, the beauty of the case is that he doesn't have to win. He only has to cause delay. He wants them to agree, in writing, to pay him a large sum of money out of the proceeds of the sale of the house. Pay him, in other words, to go away and let them get on with the sale.'
'They mustn't agree to do any such thing!' said Meredith vigorously.
'I've told them that; Laura's told them. But they're old, they're confused, frightened. He's sitting there under Fourways roof and possession is nine-tenths of the law. He keeps telling them how impoverished he is, how he's their kith and kin. He's an Oakley.'
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Juliet allowed herself a dry smile. 'There, I agree with him. He's an Oakley all right. He's William Oakley reincarnated.'
She sighed again. 'The sisters are in a terrible state. He's made them feel under an obligation towards him. He's told them how the family suffered under Communism, was reduced to poverty. He's putting on the moral pressure. He keeps reminding them that he's the sole surviving Oakley apart from themselves, and how the whole future of the family lies in their hands. Between that and the veiled threat of protracted legal quibblings, Damaris and Florence are being put under intolerable pressure. They can't afford to give him half the money from the sale of Fourways, but they're beginning to see themselves pushed into doing it. If that's not extortion, I'd like to know what is.'
'I'll tell Alan,' said Meredith. 'There must be something we can do.'
T told Pam and Geoff about it and they're horrified. Pam being a county councillor and everything, she doesn't let things rest. She went straight over there to Fourways and instructed the sisters not to do a thing until we'd all had a chance to put our heads together and sort this out.'
'Was Jan there when she went to Fourways?' asked Meredith curiously. 'Did Pam meet him?'
'He wasn't there, as bad luck would have it, at least not in the house. Pam was all geared up to make mincemeat of him. She went looking for him in the gardens, breathing fire and vengeance, but the only person she found was Ron Gladstone, the gardener. He recognised her - he voted for her, it seems, at the last county elections. Anyway, he promptly buttonholed
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her and asked her to do something about Jan. She had to tell him it wasn't a council matter. It was, however, a matter of personal interest and she assured him she'd leave no stone unturned and all the rest of it. Pam has a lot of experience of calming agitated council-tax payers.'
This chap Gladstone was upset, then?'
'Distraught, according to Pam. He's very fond of the ladies, as he calls the Oakleys, and he took an instant dislike to Jan.' Juliet glared at a youth in a reversed baseball cap who had spilled coffee perilously near her as he pushed his way to a table. 'Pam does get things done. She's pretty good, although she does go over the top sometimes. For instance, she keeps trying to bring me and James together.'
'James Holland - the vicar?' Meredith was startled. 'Well, he's a very nice person, I suppose.'
'He's great. I love him to bits as a friend. But as a husband? I ask you,' said Juliet, 'what kind of vicar's wife would I make? Visiting the sick and getting up the noses of the poor? It's not my scene.'
'Vicars' wives are different now. They have careers.'
'Well, my career requires me to be in London, not stuck in a draughty vicarage in Bamford. James and I are old mates, but I doubt he wants to marry me any more than I him. Still,' Juliet dismissed the digression, 'that's got nothing to do with Damaris and Florence.'
'I'm sure Alan can help,' Meredith said optimistically. 'Perhaps if Jan thinks the police are watching his activities, it might frighten him into behaving himself.'
Juliet's gaze had grown absent. She was staring across the restaurant. 'You know, on my visit to Yorkshire I met an old gentleman who told me he wanted to shoot some people who were making trouble for him. I understand exactly what he meant. I could, without the slightest compunction, murder Jan Oakley. It wouldn't be a crime or a sin or anything.' Juliet's gaze returned to Meredith. 'It would be putting things right.'
Meredith made her way back to her office deep in thought. She pushed open the door and was jolted back into the present.
Adrian was stooped over her desk and as the door opened he leapt back as though someone had set fire to the soles of his feet.
'Oh, Meredith . . .' he said sheepishly and took off his gold-rimmed spectacles. 'Thought you'd gone to lunch with a chum.'
'Just a working lunch,' said Meredith grimly. 'Something you need on my desk?'
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'Ah, the corrector fluid - if you've got some. I've made a bit of a mess of some notes.'
Meredith walked across and picked up the little white bottle. Silently she held it out to him.
He'd had time to rally. 'Well, well,' he said jovially, 'under my nose wouldn't you guess?'
'Adrian,' Meredith said calmly, taking her seat, 'I'm not stupid. And when you've finished with the corrector, screw the top on properly or it dries out.'
He edged his way back to his end of the room where he busied himself shuffling papers about and liberally daubing corrector fluid over everything.
Twerp! thought Meredith unkindly, but she was more than just annoyed. She was determined. Like Jan Oakley, Adrian had to go. She wasn't sure yet how to bring this about. But there had to be a way.
Unknown to Meredith, others had already been urging Alan Markby to action in the matter of removing Jan. His first caller was his sister, Laura.
'He may not have broken the law technically, but the fact is he's a rogue. He's trying to get money out of those two old women. I'm their solicitor. I can advise them - I can urge them to wait until his story's been checked and his identity verified, but they say he knows far too much about the family to be a fake. All they want is for him to go away, and if money will do the trick, they may offer it to him. In the end, if they decide to give him the money, it's their decision and I can't stop them. By the way, I'm not breaking any client confidences. I told them I thought I ought to speak to you. They were all for that. Can you go and call on them? They know you. They remember our family from years back, even barmy old Uncle Henry. I'm sure they'd listen to anything you told them.'
Fifteen minutes later, he received a call from Pamela Painter. T dare say you don't like being disturbed at work, Alan. Geoff doesn't,' she began in her brisk voice. 'But this is quasi-official. You know about this fellow who calls himself Jan Oakley?'
Markby said he did know. Yes, he also knew about the will and Jan's claims. No, he didn't like the sound of Jan at all.
'Well, then.' said Pamela vigorously, 'you've got to do something.'
'It's not a police matter, Pam.'
'Neither is it a council one. But it is our responsibility. Alan! It's our responsibility as human beings.'
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Markby was inspired by this stirring appeal to ask, 'Have you been in touch with James Holland? Perhaps if Jan Oakley was approached by a priest
'That's a good idea, Alan. I'll get on to James straight away. But we've all got to do our bit. All of us, Alan. This Jan person isn't going to be allowed to get away with it!'
As a result of this, when Meredith walked through the door that evening, she found Alan waiting for her.
'We're going out for a meal,' he told her.
'Great.' She dropped her briefcase on to a chair and kicked off her shoes. 'Give me time to shower and change . . .' It occurred to her that Alan had an enigmatic look on his face. Suspicion seized her. 'Why and where?'
T thought we might try The Feathers.'
'That pub near Fourways? The food's only pretty average as far as I've heard.'
'Jan Oakley takes his evening meal there.'
'Oh,' said Meredith. T was going to talk to you about him. Juliet and I had lunch together.'
'Laura's been on the phone to me. Ditto Pam Painter.'
'It's all about this will, then? This ploy Jan's got to force some money out of the sisters?'
'He hasn't broken the law,' Alan warned her. 'We have to go carefully. But there's no reason why we can't apply a little pressure of our own.'
'Pretty average' Meredith decided, as they entered the pub, was a fair description of The Feathers all round. It was principally an old stone building under a slate roof. At some time, probably around the middle of the last century, it had been extended without sympathy for the original style, leaving an ugly hotchpotch. Inside, a similar lack of taste reigned. Old anaglypta wallpaper, though freshly painted cream, was already turning brown from cigarette smoke, coming away from the wall and parting c
ompany at the seams where the rolls joined. Framed sepia photographs of a historic nature added to the general air of brown-ness. The photographs, while genuine, were not particularly interesting. The best of them showed the staff of The Feathers circa 1900, posed in front of the inn. All the men wore bowler hats except for a youth who wore a tam-o-shanter. The landlady was dressed apparently, in mourning. The Feathers, Meredith decided, had never been a jolly place. A scowling bull terrier positioned at the landlady's
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feet in the picture seemed to be making the fact clear to anyone who hadn't already got the message.
Despite this, the L-shaped bar was half-full. Meredith touched Alan's arm. 'That's him.'
Jan was seated in the far corner in the short leg of the L. He was just finishing his meal, and as they watched, put knife and fork down and pushed the plate to one side. She thought he cut, as he'd done at the taxi rank, a lonely figure, a young man without companions eating a solitary pub meal. She felt a twinge of sympathy.
'Why don't you go and chat him up?' Alan murmured. 'I'll get some drinks.'
'OK. Half of cider, please.'
As Alan went up to the bar, Meredith walked across the room and fetched up before Jan. Realising someone was there, he looked up warily. But then he recognised her and to her dismay his whole face lit up with delight and his dark eyes glowed in that exalted way which disturbed her so.
'It's my kind friend from the train!' He leapt to his feet, jolting the table and causing the beer in the glass on it to slop dangerously. 'The very first person who made me feel welcome in England and here you are again! Well, this is great, just great!' He held out a hand towards her in greeting.
'Please don't get up,' said Meredith, gripping the back of a free chair with both hands to brace herself against this overwhelming enthusiasm, and also so that she wouldn't be trapped in that kiss-hands routine again. T just came over to say hello and ask how you're liking England.'
