by Hazel Holt
‘I feel sorry for him. It must be so difficult for older solicitors like him these days when the whole procedure’s been speeded up and everything is timed to the last second and much more impersonal. I know Michael doesn’t really like it and he’s adaptable, so someone like Maurice Shelby couldn’t help being left behind.’
‘Perhaps he’ll retire, he must be well over sixty, and there’s always Alison’s money.’ She looked at her watch. ‘If it’s all right with you, we really ought to be going. Elsie’s going to the dentist so I’ve got to give Mother her tea. Come to think of it, I might just buy her some of the gorgeous gateau they sell here. That should cheer her up.’
I’d been putting off looking at Alan’s papers but the next morning, when there was nothing I really had to do, I decided to get on with it. I crouched down in the spare room, prising open one of the cardboard boxes. As I opened it and started to take out some of the papers, I was aware of a slightly acrid smell – a reminder of the smoke from the fire in Eva’s garage. I took a large bundle of papers downstairs to my study and began to go through them. These were all articles that Alan had written over the years, scripts of interviews and notes for broadcasts, so I put them to one side together with those from the other boxes. Next I found a box of letters, mostly concerned with his work, though there were some from Eva, which I removed without reading and which I planned to pass on to Rosemary. There were also a few letters from well-known people that I kept separately to go in the biography. It all seemed quite straightforward and I’d made good progress by lunchtime.
Rosemary came round in the afternoon so I was able to give her Eva’s letters.
‘I haven’t come across any from Daniel,’ I said, ‘but there are still several boxes I haven’t looked at yet.’
‘Daniel may not have written letters – the young mostly communicate by e-mail or even by text messages. I don’t know what Eva did with Alan’s laptop or his mobile. I suppose they may still be at the cottage. I’d better ask Patrick. We didn’t get around to doing much in the way of clearing up when Eva died and Daniel came down to live there …’
‘Oh well, there’s no urgency, though I suppose there may be things on the laptop that might go in the biography. Did Eva ever mention it?’
‘No, it was like the papers – I suppose she really didn’t want to face the fact that Alan was gone.’
‘Well, there’s not a lot left to do with them. I should finish sorting things out tomorrow and then they can go off for the publisher to deal with.’
Next morning I worked hard at the boxes, opening the last one with a sense of relief. I was intrigued to find that it contained a series of notebooks containing what looked like a diary written in Alan’s neat handwriting. Not an actual diary with entries for separate days, but a kind of narrative of some of his journeys. I began by skimming through it, but soon became fascinated and settled down to read it properly. It covered his work in several different countries and was written in a free, open style so that I could hear Alan’s distinctive voice coming through. As I read on, I became excited about what seemed to me a most unusual and brilliant piece of work, something that really should be published. I wished Eva could have read it – Daniel too – they would have been so proud.
As the narrative moved on to South America I was startled to find Donald Webster’s name leaping at me from the page. Then I remembered Eva saying that Alan had met Donald out there and he had rescued them both from some sort of tight spot. I read on eagerly, enjoying Alan’s laconic account of how they’d met by chance and had found themselves caught up in a raid on a major drug dealer and how he’d managed to talk their way out of danger. All quite casual, typical of Alan, but I could see how frightening it must have been and could understand Donald’s admiration of him. They each seemed to have gone their own way after that and there was no further mention of Donald until nearly the end of Alan’s stay in the country.
It seems there’d been an explosion at one of the chemical factories – apparently not an unusual occurrence so there was no worldwide coverage in the press, although a number of workers had been killed. There was an investigation and, from the information given, it was pronounced to be an accident. But Alan, with his reporter’s instinct, was not satisfied, and from the contacts he’d made, he was sure that it had been the result of negligence on the part of the company. There was no actual evidence and many of the people involved wouldn’t talk to him for fear of losing their jobs with the company. But the general feeling was that Donald Webster, as the person in charge, had been aware of the situation that led to the explosion and had, presumably for financial reasons, done nothing about it.
I stared at the page until the handwriting became blurred. Then I read on. Alan didn’t want to let go, but, reluctantly, finally decided that with no evidence or confirmed witness statement there was nothing he could do. He made some very forthright comments about Donald Webster who had, by then, been transferred to another country – actually, another continent.
I sat for some time considering what to do. Finally I decided to show Rosemary the notebook.
She came round quickly when I said it was something urgent and I sat her down and found her the entry. Like me, she was stunned. Finally she said, ‘I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad Eva died when she did. For heaven’s sake,’ she said fiercely, ‘she might have married him and then it all could have come out. How would she have felt then!’
‘This explains why he was so keen to “help” look through the papers,’ I said. ‘He knew Alan had been in the area and was afraid he might have written something. Which, thank God, he did!’
‘I always thought there was something wrong about that man – you remember, I never trusted him and was sure he’d hurt Eva in some way.’
‘You were certainly right about that,’ I said. ‘He fooled everybody – still does. When I think how sorry I was for him when he seemed so upset about her death!’
‘For all we know, it might have been just an act – all that with Eva – just to get hold of the papers.’
‘I think he was genuinely attracted to her,’ I said reluctantly. ‘Oh, I don’t know – how can you tell with someone like that.’
We sat for a moment in silence, then Rosemary said suddenly, ‘The fire! Was that him, did he start it deliberately? Eva could have been killed in that fire – did he think of that!’
‘It could have been deliberate – I think we just assumed it was faulty wiring.’ I thought for a moment. ‘When Eva died he must have thought he was safe.’
‘He offered to help sort out the papers after she died – I’d have been glad to accept the offer, there was so much to see to, but, fortunately, I was so upset I couldn’t be bothered with them just then.’
‘He offered again when Daniel died,’ I said. ‘But then there was Patrick …’
We sat in silence again for some minutes.
‘What are we going to do?’ I asked. ‘Whatever we feel like, I don’t imagine there’s any way anyone could bring him to justice.’
‘We must confront him,’ Rosemary said. ‘Tell him that we know what he’s done.’
‘I don’t know that I could bear to look at him,’ I said.
‘Well I certainly can and I’ll tell everyone in Taviscombe what a loathsome person he is.’
‘He’ll deny it, of course.’
‘But we’ve got Alan’s notebook,’ Rosemary said.
‘Yes, but he said there was no evidence so nothing could be done. We could be sued for libel or defamation or something.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’
‘But I’m right. Jack will tell you so.’
‘We can’t let him get away with it.’
‘No, I agree, but all we can do is to let him know we know and that Alan described the whole affair – we needn’t go into details, just hint that there’s some damning stuff there. Frighten him.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then he’ll probably go away.’<
br />
‘And get off scot-free?’
‘I know that seems unfair, but he’d never know for sure if we might produce something positive against him.’
‘But can’t we tell the police?’
‘There’s nothing they can do without the real facts – and, anyway, it happened in another country so they couldn’t do anything anyway.’
‘It’s so frustrating. Will you come with me to see him?’
‘Yes, of course I will. Where shall we see him?’
‘We could confront him at Brunswick Lodge, then everyone would know.’
‘Libel!’
‘Oh, I suppose so.’
‘I’ll invite him round here. He’s been here for tea before so he won’t be suspicious and put us off, though I won’t tell him you’ll be here – that might surprise him and throw him off balance a bit.’
I telephoned and invited him round (‘for coffee’) and he arranged to come the next day.
He was a little surprised to find Rosemary, but greeted her in his usual easy manner.
‘We’ve invited you here,’ I said, ‘because of a very important matter.’
‘That sounds serious,’ he said lightly.
‘It is, very serious. As you know, Alan left a lot of papers, mostly connected with his work. You do know that, of course, because you offered your help in going through them.’
His attitude was very wary now but he said, ‘Yes, I gather that Eva was thinking of getting them published – I’m sure any publisher would want them, they must be most interesting.’
‘I certainly found them so,’ I said, ‘when I went through them.’
‘You did?’
‘Yesterday. Which is why I asked you to come here today.’ He didn’t speak so I went on. ‘In addition to all his professional papers he also kept a sort of journal of his travels, including an account of his time in South America. You met him there, I believe.’
‘Yes. He got us out of a really tight spot – I told Eva about it.’
‘I remember her telling me. But, what you didn’t tell Eva was your connection with the explosion at that chemical factory. Alan had quite a lot to say about that in his journal.’
He was silent for a moment then he said steadily, ‘That was a long time ago and I was completely exonerated of any blame. It was a very distressing incident, people were killed – I didn’t tell Eva because I didn’t want to upset her.’
‘People were killed,’ I said, ‘and it was very distressing. For them and for their families. Alan found it distressing too. If you remember, he was a reporter, someone who instinctively investigated things – you don’t imagine he would have let go of something like that.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘I can’t imagine what he thought he’d found,’ Donald said easily. ‘There was a very full inquiry, there was no evidence of mismanagement, and, as I said, I was completely cleared of any blame for what was a very distressing incident.’
I could see that Rosemary was longing to let fly so I said quickly, ‘There was no evidence because people were afraid to say anything that might cause them to lose their jobs. But they were willing to talk to Alan.’
‘In such circumstances people will always look for someone to blame. I suppose I was an obvious target – there is always a lot of jealousy at certain levels. I’m sorry Alan was misled.’
He paused for a moment and then he went on, ‘I don’t know what he may have written in this journal, but I can assure you that I have done nothing wrong.’
‘But when you knew about the papers,’ Rosemary burst out, ‘you were worried there might be something in them that would expose you, that’s why you were so anxious to “help” with them!’
He smiled. ‘I was merely trying to give Eva a hand with something she obviously found difficult to do – understandably so.’
‘And I suppose,’ Rosemary said fiercely, ‘you had nothing to do with the fire in the garage – a fire that should have destroyed them and might have killed Eva!’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous,’ he said angrily. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re going to do with this precious journal, but if you’re going to go about making accusations like that then I’ll have to give instructions to my solicitor.’
‘And what about Eva?’ Rosemary was unstoppable now. ‘Did you think that by marrying her you could get at the papers and destroy them?’
‘That is an unforgivable thing to say,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘I loved Eva and she loved me – I was desolated when she died.’
‘That’s easy enough to say now she’s dead,’ Rosemary persisted. ‘What do you think she’d have said if she’d known what you’d done? What do you imagine everyone will think when they know?’
‘I’ve already warned you not to make libellous statements—’ he began.
‘Oh, in a place like Taviscombe,’ Rosemary said, ‘you don’t have to spell things out. Just the hint that there’s something not quite right with somebody – that’s enough.’
‘I think what Rosemary means,’ I said, ‘is that it would be better if you left. As you say, there’s no hard evidence about what you did, but there’s enough in Alan’s journals to convince us that Taviscombe would be a better place without you.’
He got up. ‘There’s no reason why I should stay here and listen to this nonsense and, as for leaving Taviscombe, I will not be blackmailed in this way. I will do as I think fit. I have nothing more to say to you on this matter.’
He went away and as the door slammed behind him, Rosemary said, ‘Do you think he will go? I’d really like to have done something to make him pay for what he did.’
‘So would I, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can actually do. But I think he will leave Taviscombe – that was a good remark of yours about hinting. And he still doesn’t know exactly what Alan wrote – I don’t think he’d want to risk it.’
Rosemary sighed. ‘You’re right, of course, but I do feel frustrated – for Eva’s sake as much as for anything else. Just think what might have happened.’
I was not surprised that when I next went to Brunswick Lodge, I heard Anthea bewailing the loss of such a useful committee member.
‘He was invaluable in such a lot of ways,’ she was saying to Alison Shelby. ‘I really don’t know what we’ll do without him. And I never got him to give that second talk – it would have been so interesting, and we made such a nice lot of money from his first one.’
‘Why is he leaving, then?’ Alison asked. ‘He only just got here!’
‘Oh, something to do with business, I believe – I didn’t get the details.’
‘I thought he’d retired.’
‘Oh no, he was in a very important position with his firm and they needed him as a consultant, or whatever they call it. I think he’s got to go abroad. Anyway, he’s put that lovely house on the market. Such a shame; it had a really big garden and I was hoping we could have a garden party there to raise funds for the wiring here, it’s turning out to be more expensive than we thought and Derek is being so difficult about it all.’
Further speculation about Donald Webster’s departure was lost in Anthea’s endless complaints about Derek’s intransigence.
Rosemary and I decided not to tell Mrs Dudley anything that had happened. We knew how much it would upset her. But she was less easy to satisfy. ‘It is the most extraordinary thing,’ she said to me when I went to tea. ‘He’d settled here so well. Such a popular man, so well thought of. I was not sure at first about his involvement with poor Eva, but they did seem to be fond of each other. He was absolutely devastated when she died. I remember him coming to see me shortly after that. He and I got on so well; I like to think that he turned to me at a time like that. I said what I could to comfort him, but these things go very deep with a sensitive person like that.’
I made a suitable murmur.
‘I must say,’ she said, ‘I was surprised that he didn’t see fit to come and say goodbye to me. Not a very gentl
emanly way to behave. I am most disappointed in him. After all,’ she continued with increased vigour, ‘I did introduce him to the best Taviscombe society and I might have expected some sort of consideration in return. There he is, gone, and no one seems to know where.’ This seemed to be a major cause for complaint. Or,’ she said, ‘why. What possible reason could he have had to leave when there was everything he could possibly want here?’
‘Perhaps it was something to do with his job,’ I suggested.
‘That’s as may be, but it is no reason to go off like that without a word to people who have done their best to make him feel at home in Taviscombe. I have had him to tea here – and lunch too – and made him welcome in my home and I do resent being treated in such a way.’
‘Oh well,’ Rosemary said when I told her about Mrs Dudley’s reaction. ‘It’s best that she should be angry with him for his lack of politeness than for the real reason. That would really be too much for her.’
‘Absolutely.’
Rosemary laughed. ‘She actually said that I was always prejudiced against him – the nearest she could get to admitting that she was wrong and I was right. Oh well, she’ll get over it. Thank goodness she’s got Patrick to occupy her. He still comes quite often. She’s getting him to go on working on that family tree that Eva started. Apparently Daniel was going to do something about it before …’
‘I think that would be a good thing,’ I said. ‘Another shared interest for them. And it’s something he can feel he’s doing for Daniel.’
‘Eva’s laptop is still at the cottage,’ Patrick said when I saw him next, ‘and Rosemary said it would be all right for me to use it because it has the genealogy stuff on it. There’s not much, Eva had only just made a start, and Daniel – Daniel didn’t have time to do much to it.’
‘Is it difficult to trace things?’ I asked. ‘I’ve always wanted to look up my family, and Peter’s, but there seemed to be so many things to wade through.’
