The Village Fate

by William Hadley

  They sat in silence for a whole minute.

  “I take it you haven’t shown this one to the police yet?”…If he had I’d be sharing that cell with hairy Mary by now.

  “Not yet. Should I?”

  Claudilia had recovered some of her composure. “I’d really rather you didn’t if that’s okay, but it’s up to you. My fate is in your hands – actually, Saturday’s fete is in your hands too, but right now I’m more concerned with what’s going to happen to me,” she said with a weak smile. “Has anyone else seen the tape, what are you going to do with it?”

  “That depends,” Angus replied. “I’ve sent a sealed copy to my lawyer with a note to pass it to the police if I disappear or die in suspicious circumstances any time soon.” Not absolutely true but he’d get it there as soon as he could. “But I guess what I really need to know is am I safe? Or should I expect the same treatment if I use a fish knife for spreading peanut butter?”

  “Good God, no. What a preposterous thing to say. You’re perfectly safe,” replied Claudilia quickly. “I wouldn’t hurt you. You’re everything she wasn’t. You’re kind and funny, you don’t take yourself too seriously but you’re dedicated to your business and you really care about the countryside. You can ride - just about, you shoot and fish but most of all, you care about people, you even had my wall fixed. No Angus, I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  They sat in silence again.

  “So what now?” asked Claudilia.

  “More wine I think,” replied Angus, “and then we have to discuss the shooting range for Saturday.”

  “Screw the shooting range! What are you going to do about that film?” exclaimed Claudilia.

  But Angus was gone, he disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few moments later with two large glasses filled with red wine. “I can’t see there’s much for me to do,” he said. “She’s gone, not in the way I had expected but she is gone. I’ve got access to her million quid which is right now sitting in a secure bitcoin account. Nobody else knows it exists and the password is very very secure.”

  Angus took a sip of his wine and continued. “In a month or two I’ll convert it into proper money. I can use some of my friends in the city to ease that through a few offshore investments, probably in Luxemburg or the Caymans, we’ll wash it through oil, gold and coffee futures.” Another sip of wine, he seemed to be talking to himself or maybe just thinking out loud. “I’ll bring it back into sterling in about a year from now, pay a bit of tax and bung it into something with a decent return for the kids. It might be an incey wincy bit illegal but in the greater scheme of things I’m not the worst criminal in the room right now.” He smiled. “On the plus side, I don’t have to pay for an expensive and messy divorce, I won’t lose whatever an expensive lawyer manages to screw out of me, and I don’t have to worry about her changing her mind and coming back. The marriage was over long ago, we just hadn’t made it official.”

  Claudilia looked at Angus. Could it be that he was as cool and calculating as she was? Perhaps she was going to get away with it after all. “What about me, what do you want from me?” …Do you think this gives you some sort of power. Do you think it means you can just turn up at the cottage or stables, burst in and throw me firmly to the ground before having your way. Then you’re right, you can - just make sure you do it two or three times each week.

  “Nothing, just carry on as normal” …Oh bugger, so no firm hands and carpet burns then. “just try not to be involved with anyone else’s death for a while, first Tony the bee man and now this. Anymore and it could look suspicious.” …Now might not the best time to mention the builder and the fisherman. “ But really, I don’t think we need to do anything different.”

  In truth, getting rid of Maggie had some advantages. Once Angus discovered she’d been planning to leave him, and before he found the camera footage, he’d started to work out what it might cost. She had only been his wife for a few years, and they had no children. She’d brought very little to the marriage but she had organised his life and ensured he was able to work whenever he wanted. She’d played hostess at parties and kept his house, in the eyes of the wrong judge, that could be worth quite a lot.

  Angus didn’t hate Maggie, but he didn’t love her either. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about her being dead. He’d probably have been happy with her simply gone. This way there would be questions. No-one can disappear for ever. Surely they have to turn up somewhere.

  No, thought Angus. He’d made his decision and he’d stick to their story. Maggie had left on Sunday afternoon. She’d used the money she inherited from her mother, money she’d hidden from Angus, and she’d gone off to start a new life.

  “Angus have you heard a single word I was saying”? asked Claudilia

  “Sorry no, I was thinking. What was it you said?”

  “I asked if Trevor’s Maggie’s only living relative. Tilly died last year but are there any others?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Or not close ones anyway. Why?”

  “Well, everyone thinks Maggie has gone to be with Trevor, even Trevor thinks she’s coming to join him. You should call and ask if he’s heard anything or seen her. Try to come over as hurt and disappointed. Your wife’s missing, you’ve seen their emails, you know she was going to leave and he was in on it all along.”

  “How will that help exactly?”

  “It’d be natural for you to contact her family, see if she’s been in touch, if they know where she might be, places she might have gone to ground, maybe a favourite place from her youth that you’ve not thought of. You could argue with him if you like,” she smiled.

  “That won’t be difficult,” said Angus.

  “You know she’s going to America so why not accuse him of holding back information. Tell him you think she’s already there, and demand to talk to Maggie.”

  “Yes, that would make sense,” said Angus and he checked his watch.

  The time in Wimplebridge was ten fifty seven, in New York it would be coming up to six O’clock. Trevor might not be home but Angus had a mobile number and after a few rings he picked up.

  The brothers-in-law talked for twenty minutes. Maggie stayed quiet and the dogs snored on the carpet. By the time Angus hung up he’d worked Trevor into a rage and then calmed him down again. Evidently Maggie’s brother had developed the same short fuse as most New Yorkers. Couple that with his artistic disposition and it was no problem to get him swearing at Angus. He even threatened to come over to England and “bust his ass wide open”.

  Angus said he knew about the emails and the bitcoins. He knew she was going to New York via Ireland and Canada. He just wanted to hear her voice, he wouldn’t believe she’d left him until he heard her say it. If she couldn’t do it face to face, then on the phone would have to do. If the marriage was over, all she had to do was send him half the inheritance and he’d agree to a divorce. Angus said that as her husband it was due to him. This probably wasn’t true but he doubted Maggie’s brother knew enough law to challenge him. When Trevor herd that Angus wanted cash to let her go he exploded. He said that Angus wasn’t due anything from his sister, the money had come from their mother who’d hated her son in law from the start. When Maggie did arrive, he’d tell her that her husband just wanted her back for the inheritance, he’d make damned sure she didn’t call home. “Not now, not ever”.

  Trevor was steaming, his mouth was running faster than he could think. “They didn’t need any more of Angus’s money,” said Trevor. Not only had Maggie been screwing other men, she’d been milking his bank account too. They’d taken plenty, and he, the great investment banker, could go to hell if he thought he’d get a single penny of it back.

  Angus already knew about the extra money. It was just one more lie she’d been telling him. DS Robinson had called earlier in the day while she was looking into Maggie’s accounts. The detective asked if Angus knew about regular payments to New York. “No I bloody didn’t,” said Angus. He did remember that
soon after their wedding she’d talked him into giving her a salary. It was so she could start her own pension she’d claimed. They arranged a monthly payment of twelve hundred pounds which would be routed through her account to an adviser she knew. By going into Maggie’s account first it would not attract extra tax for Angus. The adviser would take care of the investments and Angus assumed it was being suitably managed. He was too busy getting the AD plant built and running to check. The money wasn’t being invested. Each month it was sent to Trevor and in all he’d received over fifty thousand pounds from Macintosh Energy. For a clever businessman he’d been rather foolish thought Angus.

  “I don’t think he’ll be calling back in a hurry,” said Claudilia.

  “No. He’ll crawl back under his stone and wait for Maggie to arrive. When she doesn’t he won’t call because he just admitted to helping his sister embezzle fifty grand. He must know that if he comes over here and starts to throw his weight around I’ll go to the cops and tell them what he and Maggie have done.

  It was late, almost half past eleven and Claudilia was ready for her bed.

  “Will you come riding tomorrow?” she asked

  “I’m collecting the children at five, I’ll need to be away from here by half three.”

  “Okay then, we’ll go at one. We can go around Monk Hill and talk a bit more.”

  “Yes,” said Angus “I think we have a lot of talking to do.”

  Angus showed her to the door, kissed her gently on both cheeks and waited while Claudilia and Max climbed into the old Volvo. By midnight Claudilia was tucked up in bed. She had a cup of tea and a glass of water on her bedside table. She thought that the evening had gone rather well, not how she expected but still rather well.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Day Seventeen. Friday

  Claudilia spent Friday morning supervising the preparations for the fete. The stalls were built and ready, the stage was finished and space for the funfair was marked out. Bunting hung from lamp-posts and there was a general air of expectation about the village. Yes, it should all be very good thought Claudilia. The weather forecast was favourable and best of all, there would be no model of Macintosh Energy.

  A nice young man called Warwick turned up from the council, he coned off the edge of the green. Both pubs had stalls at the fete and their parking would be filled first. Then cars would be sent to a nearby field. If it was super busy Claudilia would open Pumpkin’s paddock, but it was unlikely to be needed.

  At one o’clock Angus and Hamish walked across Upper Bridge. He’d spend the morning at Macintosh Energy and he was looking forward to an afternoon ride. He spotted Claudilia at once, she was directing a trailer loaded with bales to behind the goal of the penalty shootout. Bales would form the back and two wings of the goal area, even the worst shot shouldn’t miss completely and land a ball on the ferret race course.

  “Oh good, Angus you’re here,” said Claudilia with a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of his hand. “Everything all right?” she asked.

  “Yes fine, I’ve been in the office all morning, and an appraiser came to look at Maggie’s car. I’ve decided to sell it. I’ll drop a ton of cash, but I don’t want it sitting in front of the house any longer.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “Well it might not be , but damn it I paid for the stupid thing, I can sell it if I want to.”

  “Fair enough. Did he buy it, the appraiser chap?”

  “Yes, they’ll collect it this afternoon. I’m going to use some of the proceeds to buy Angus his exam present.”

  “He’ll like that,” Said Claudilia. “Ready to go riding?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” said Angus with a twinge in his undercarriage.

  They went to Bindweed Cottage and left Hamish with Max. The two dogs seemed quite happy together, the TV was on and they settled on the sofa in front of a western.

  Rosie didn’t look so big this time. Yes she was still a mountain of a horse, but Angus found her a bit less daunting. He’d survived one trip and felt sure he could manage another. Claudilia showed him how to fit the saddle, tighten the girth and make sure the stirrups were correctly set. She put Rosie’s reigns over her head and held up the bridle. Almost at once the horse opened her massive mouth and started chomping on the bitt. Claudilia slipped the bridle over Rosie’s ears and did up the chin strap.

  While Claudilia was doing the same with Pumpkin, Angus patted his horse on the neck and talked soothingly to her. He felt a bit silly to begin with, he was a fifty year old banker chatting up a horse, but Rosie seemed to like it and she nuzzled her head into his chest. Today Angus felt brave enough to get on unaided. He doubted he could manage from the ground so he walked Rosie to the mounting block. The big mare stood like a statue as he nipped up the steps and climbed aboard. She remained still long enough for him to get his feet into the stirrups and gather the reigns. Then she wandered across the yard with her head down in search of something to eat.

  The route Claudilia had chosen was one of her favourites, especially on days when she was pressed for time. They departed the stables and, for a short distance, took the lane up Monk Hill. They left the road and entered a field where a crop of wheat stretched up hill to a hedge with a gate. Beyond that Angus could see a few sheep grazing in a field of grass. It went up to the crest of the hill.

  “Stay in the tramlines please Angus,” Claudilia called. “We don’t want to damage more of the crop than we have to.”…Tramlines are the wheel marks left by tractors as they go up and down the field.

  Angus could see Claudilia had a small notebook with her. She was writing as she went along. “What are you writing?” he asked.

  “We have some problem weeds in this field. Those are corn marigolds,” she said pointing at a yellow daisy looking plant. “We’ll need to spray them before they drop their seeds, or ten times as many will come back next year.”

  In the next field a few sheep looked up, but on the whole they took no notice as the horses walked through the flock. Again Claudilia was making notes, this time looking for lame animals or damaged water troughs. Anything that needed attention went into the book, she could talk to the farm manager about it later.

  When they had reached the far side of the flock Claudilia brought Pumpkin to a stop, she asked Angus to do the same. “We’re going to have a canter, nothing frightening just a bit faster than a trot and a lot more comfortable. You start by trotting, then give her a gentle dig in the ribs with your feet. She’ll speed up and you can sit down in the saddle. Just relax into it and role your hips forward and backwards with the movement.” Then with a giggle more suited to her young niece she added. “it feels rather nice actually, if you get the movement just right.”

  Claudilia was away before Angus had realised what she’d said. Pumpkin went from a standing start straight into a canter. Claudilia looked as if she was sitting in her favourite armchair, she twisted round and called to Angus, “Get a move on slow-coach.”

  Rosie had her own plan, and it didn’t involve being left behind. Angus might have preferred to walk, trot, canter as instructed, but Rosie took off after Pumpkin like a pony half her age. Angus let go of the reigns with one hand and gripped tightly onto the front of his saddle. All thoughts of deportment and grace had gone, he just wanted to live and his best chance was by staying on top of this horse. If he fell off he’d land hard, it was a long way down and he’d probably break something.

  The field was big and the two horses cantered side by side across the grass. If Angus had been less focused on survival he’d have seen two counties spread before him and the river Wimple running into the Avon. In the distance he’d see the tower at Warwick castle, it’s union flag fluttering away from the pole. Claudilia called “whoa” and pulled on her reigns, Angus did the same and said a prayer of thanks as Rosie slowed first to a trot and then a walk.

  “How was that?” Claudilia asked.

  “That was great,” said Angus with a big smile. “It felt so fast, and the
noise of their hoofs, fantastic, really fantastic.”

  “Obviously you looked like a sack of shit, one tied in the middle with string, but you didn’t come off and that’s a good sign,” said Claudilia. They stopped and she slipped off Pumpkin to open a gate.

  The final field they entered took them along the back of the housing development, they walked side by side.

  “This is where Gus the builder was working last week isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Claudilia “He was mixing concrete or pouring it, anyway he was working on his own, he got struck on the head by a shoot or something and the poor sod went face first into one of the footings, it was rock hard when they found him.”

  “That’s bad luck. Did you know him well?” asked Angus.

  “He was a few years younger than me but he’d lived in the village all his life. As kids we were at Sunday school together. That was enough though, he used to pull my hair and call me names.”

  Angus put out of his mind a thought that had just popped up. He’d wondered if Claudilia had anything to do with Gus’s accident. But surely nobody would hold a childhood grudge for forty five years. Best not to ask he decided, and the pair rode on in silence.

  From the building site they joined a lane for a short distance before turning onto the riverbank. “This cuts out the main road,” said Claudilia over her shoulder. She was impressed by how well Angus had taken to riding and how comfortable he looked on Rosie. Still he wasn’t ready to go on the highway yet, just in case one of the tractors with a big silage trailer came along. It would be a terrible shame if Rosie was spooked and Angus came off right outside his own house.