by Nhys Glover
Easter came and went, and news that the pink bedroom suite had been sold in a private sale for £103,000 to a Japanese buyer had Adie laughing so hard she couldn’t draw breath. What would the obnoxious Mrs. James Montgomery say if she knew what she’d given away so blithely?
Then, a few days later, another phone call brought them the news they’d been waiting for.
“The DNA was a match,” DCI Adams said without preamble. “Georgina Wyatt was one of the victims of the Lewes serial killer. I hope this helps. We’re grateful to have another victim identified. Although I doubt many more will be, after all this time. Especially as most were likely not English.”
As soon as Adams hung up, Cage was on the phone to Hugo, giving him the update.
“Well done! I really didn’t think you’d be able to discover the truth about a crime so old.”
“It’s only thanks to Minerva’s hoarding tendencies and her love of her friend that we got it done,” Adie declared humbly. “None of this would have been possible without the ticket in the coat and the hair in the brush. And of course, neither of those would have meant anything without Minerva’s journal.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Adeline. You put the pieces together. From what Cage said, the leads had gone cold after Roland. Yet you kept pulling the threads until you got what you were looking for. You deserve the congratulations and the one million pounds. I will be very pleased to notify Winsley of your success. Again.” Hugo sounded smug.
“We need to make sure he doesn’t find out ahead of time about the next mystery. No slipups after this,” Hugo went on, probably more to himself than to Adie and Cage.
Adie’s heart sank a little. The last thing she wanted to do was tackle another Mystery so soon after the last. She was exhausted, mentally and physically.
“Do we have to do the next one straight away?” she pleaded, sounding a little whiney to her own ears.
“What if I neglected telling Winsley the news for a few weeks? That should give you a reprieve. He won’t start trying to undermine your next search until he knows he’s lost this one.”
“Sounds good to me. It’s enough that we know. And because of what Winsley did to Jig, I think I’ll give Georgie’s million to a dog shelter. That will teach him!”
Hugo’s laugh echoed out to them. “That will certainly rub his nose in it. But I doubt it will teach him anything. I expect he’ll start getting serious about stopping you after this.”
“Let him try!” Adie declared with confidence.
“You’ve changed a lot since we brought you to England. Minerva said you were a diamond in the rough. She was right. I should have learned long ago that Minerva usually ends up being right.”
EPILOGUE
DIGITAL FILE 7 (Success Version)
Congratulations my darling girl!
I am over the moon, as I record this video, knowing you have solved Georgie’s Mystery. How does it feel to have done something the police were unable to do? How does it feel to know how truly capable you are? Something I have always known.
You may ask how I could possibly know such a thing. It is no baseless rhetoric. I know because I have read the reports on you since you were five years old. I saw how you studied on your own, learning more than most university graduates would ever know. I saw how you stood loyally by your mother’s side, even when she didn’t deserve it. When she gave credit and her own loyalty to that awful church instead of to you. I saw how you found a way to stretch what little money she left you, finding unique ways to make a pittance enough. That is no mean feat, I can assure you.
A person who can manage a budget, and wring every useful penny from it, is someone who can see what others can’t. A person who can carry on her own education learns to put pieces together and make them meaningful. A person who has the background knowledge from years of study can use that information to understand the thoughts and actions of men. All these talents made me confident you would reach this point. And I was right!
So, again, congratulations. And congratulations for keeping that little weed of a man away from my money. I do regret my decision to involve him in any of this. I didn’t think it through. I am not, ultimately, like you, my dear Adie. I do not think things through.
Now we get down to the details of the next Mystery. As you may already know, Rory the caretaker of Beckside Farm, was in fact little Rory, the son of my dear friend, who lost his mother at ten years old. It was a terrible tragedy that only compounded the terrible tragedy of a boy taken from his mother out of spite.
Rory would have turned out to be far more damaged if he hadn’t had the love of his paternal grandmother. She mitigated much of her son’s petty cruelty. But she couldn’t make up for a mother who seemingly abandoned him. That truth he had to bear his whole life. And it destroyed all his relationships.
How do I know this? Because I kept my eye on Rory from a distance. Not quite the way I did with you. But in a smaller way. I watched from the sidelines as he was expelled from one school after another. Usually for fighting. I watched as he joined the regular army as soon as he reached eighteen, choosing not to enter officer training as his social position would have dictated. Instead, he relished rubbing elbows with the lower classes, something he knew would horrify his father.
I saw him deployed to Ireland during the Troubles and end up with a medical discharge several years later. Not for any physical injuries. They were all mental ones. What is now called PTSD, I think, although I’m not sure.
I have no idea what happened to Rory in Ireland, but whatever it was caused him more harm than losing his mother ever did. He returned to England not just a broken man, but a shattered one. All I could do to keep him from ending up dead, in an institution, or living rough on the streets, was to offer him the job at Beckside Farm.
Your third Mystery I’ll call the Troubled Man, because that is what he was. Yes, he was very probably a deeply damaged man before he went to Ireland to fight in the Troubles, but whatever happened there turned him into a lost soul. A deeply troubled lost soul. Rory didn’t deserve that. Georgie didn’t deserve to have her son destroyed that way.
I couldn’t stop what happened to him, but I want you to find out what did happen and use my money to fix whatever needs fixing. Because guilt is what cripples most good men, I believe Rory committed some unthinkable crime he couldn’t come back from. I want you to right his wrong, so his spirit can be at peace, in much the way Georgie’s soul is at peace, now you’ve found out what happened to her.
I wish Rory had lived long enough to discover his mother’s fate, and to have his wrongs righted. Even if only in a financial way. As I record this, I know he died not long before me. Such a pity. Such a terrible waste of a life.
This Mystery means even more to me than the last. I could have helped him before it was too late. When he was a teen, angry with the world and everyone in it. I could have helped. But I was too caught up in the heady business of being the beautiful actress wife of a famous director. My selfishness knew no bounds back then.
(Sadness showed on her face and a tear trickled down one pallid cheek. After a moment’s introspection Minerva pasted on a bright smile and went on.)
I don’t know how much you know about The Troubles, as we called the Northern Ireland Conflict. It wasn’t a new conflict. It had its seeds in the seventeenth century when English and Scottish planters were given territory in Northern Ireland. And the displaced locals objected. Sometimes, like so many others, I wondered why we didn’t just hand back the country. It was their home, after all.
But politics is a confusing and merciless activity, and there is rarely one side that is right and the other wrong. The fact there is a provision in the current peace accord that says that if the majority of Northern Ireland citizens vote to join the Republic of Ireland then we will let them. I have to assume that that means the bulk of the residents wish to remain with the UK as no such vote has ever occurred.
I suggest you find out as much as
you can about the political situation and how the British forces were deployed at the time Rory was there, which was in the mid-seventies. Hugo may be able access Rory’s military record. You will not find my journals useful in regard to this Mystery. You will also need to undertake a trip to Ireland to interview people there, as well as any of Rory’s comrades here in the UK.
I’m not sure what will qualify as a solution to this Mystery. I think you’ll know better than I when you have solved it. Your honesty will guide you, as will Hugo’s impartial oversight.
Good luck with this one, my dear girl. Be careful. Not only is Winsley a problem, but who knows what hard feelings you may stir up when you begin digging. Do not put yourself in danger. I don’t want that. This is supposed to be a game, an interesting, if not pleasurable, game.
Until next time, my darling…
From your loving Aunt Minerva.
Adie turned off the video and sat back. She was caught between a quiet pride and pleasure at Minerva’s response to her success, and dread over what was to come. Mostly it was dread. The two week breather Hugo had given them didn’t feel anywhere near enough.
Cage had wanted to take her away for a vacation during those two weeks, now the weather was warming up. He suggested the Riviera. But Roland had spoiled that destination for her. Somehow, it had become tied up with Georgie’s death in her own mind. Visiting would have felt more like a memorial service than a vacation.
In the end, Adie had opted to stay home and keep working. Her fear for Jig was too great for her to be able to relax on some beach, while her dog faced death protecting her farm. One day, when Winsley was out of her hair, she’d welcome a trip away. Maybe a world trip, for the pure enjoyment of it. But not until then.
“I wonder what the Unsuccessful File said. Bad luck, better luck next time?” Cage said. “Want to watch it and compare?”
Adie shook her head. “No, I like to think that what she said in this one was what she really meant me to hear. The other was just a backup file in case I failed. It would have been filled with consoling words she didn’t really mean.”
Her mind turned to her new task. How would Cage handle digging into another military man’s past? Would it bring up his own past, which he guarded so carefully? Yes, she now understood a little of his issues where his dog was concerned, but she had a feeling that wasn’t the end of it for him. And if Rory’s story reflected his in any way it could prove disastrous. Cage had been healing. She knew he’d been healing. This might put that healing back.
She looked across at him, trying to read his thoughts and feelings from his expression. But his expression was closed. Granite features that were as approachable as a rocky escarpment.
Yet when did she back away from sensitive issues? Certainly not since she’d started gaining confidence in herself.
So, she’d address the elephant in the room.
“How do you feel about this Mystery? The Mystery of the Troubled Man. Minerva is hardly original in her titles. But I like the play on words,” she finally said, rubbing Jig’s head.
“Does it matter? My job is to help you solve the mystery. I don’t get a say in it,” he ground out, tapping the kitchen table with his fingertips in a sharp, staccato beat.
Adie shook her head emphatically. “Don’t be crazy! Of course you have a say in it. Rory was damaged by his war experiences and so were you. What if digging into his past brings up yours? No amount of money is worth touching on your wounds before they’re ready to be healed.”
Cage growled. “That’s crap. I don’t have any wounds! I left the war behind me years ago.”
She glared at him. “Says the man who crouched in a deserted lane and cried. When was that? Oh, right. A month ago. Not years ago!”
“I got maudlin because I’d been drinking,” he countered in annoyance. “It was no big deal.”
“You had two beers. I’m not accusing you of being weak or fragile or anything. You know I don’t see you that way. But I am aware of your issues. You can stand down on this one.”
Cage’s jaw hardened. “You need the kind of insights I can give you. What you read in a military record won’t tell you shit. Not even eye-witness accounts will give you what you need. I’m starting to see why I was picked for this job. It’s more than me being a decent PI and good at the security side of things. Dad probably suggested me for the job when he found out what Minerva wanted you to get into.”
Nodding, Adie nibbled at her bottom lip. He was right, of course. His experience would be useful. But not if it did him harm. She cared too much about him to see him hurt by this ‘game’ of theirs. He’d already taken a blow when Jig nearly died. This ‘game’ could screw with his head.
“I want to establish some ground rules. Okay? If you’re going to help me on this one, we need some ground rules.”
Cage studied her, a slow smile splitting his handsome face. “You’re really coming into your own, aren’t you? I get surprised by you so often now it’s become an everyday occurrence.”
Adie looked away, heat spreading up into her cheeks. “I was always a bit of a hard-head, I think. I had to be. How else do you think I survived my mom and her church?”
He chuckled, the last of his tension evaporating. Had he started to get used to the idea of this new task? Had he decided he could handle it?
“Okay, so what’s the ground rules?” he demanded, pushing back in his chair until the front legs were off the ground.
“Stuff comes up, we talk about it. No playing the tough guy. I’ve already seen you cry, so your mask is off.”
“I don’t talk about shit. That’s a girlie thing to do,” he said in exasperation.
Adie growled. “And yet that’s exactly what you did in the lane that night. And felt better for it. You’ve been doing work on yourself for years. You know talking stuff through helps. Don’t pull that big boys don’t cry crap on me now!”
“Now you’re swearing, Adie? The world as I know it must be coming to an end,” he said blithely, trying to keep the upper hand.
When she remained silent, just staring at him, he sighed heavily and nodded. “You’re playing hard ball. Okay, fair enough. You’re the boss. If stuff comes up, I’ll cry on your shoulder. But it won’t. As I said, I left all that behind years ago, brief drunken moments notwithstanding.”
Adie nodded and went on. “Rule 2. If anything triggers you so badly you can’t stand it, then you walk away. I won’t risk your emotional wellbeing on a game. This is non-negotiable. Your first duty is to yourself.” She held up her hand as she saw him about to argue. “I’m not talking about your job taking care of me. That you can do without risking your emotional wellbeing. But investigating this mystery is not as important to me as you are. Step in front of a bullet for me, well and good. Allow someone else’s stuff to cut open your jugular and it’s not on. I can fail the task or I can pay for additional short-term help. I don’t care. What I won’t risk, is you!”
“I’m not as messed up as you’re making out!” he growled in exasperation.
“Good, then you should be able to agree to that rule then. Call it a safety net for my emotional wellbeing. I don’t want to have to be worried about you every step of the way.”
Shaking his head, Cage threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine! I accept your ground rules. But I have one of my own.”
Nodding cautiously, Adie waited for him to state it.
“You trust me to know how much I can handle. You treat me like I’m an adult who can take care of himself and is capable of asking for help when he needs it. No watching over me like a helicopter mom.”
“If you follow through with Rule 1 and 2, then Rule 3 will be easy. I won’t have to get all overprotective. That’s actually the last thing I want to do.”
Cage held out his hand. Adie placed hers in it, so they could shake.
“We have a deal!” Cage said with satisfaction. “Now I think the first thing on the agenda is that dinner party with the vicar. We need to k
now as much about the Rory they knew as we can find out. While we wait for Hugo to come through with the military records. The villagers knew Rory for decades. He must have shared his secrets with someone during that time.”
Adie nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I’ve felt guilty putting that dinner on hold this long. They’re nice people, and I don’t want them to think we don’t value their friendship.”
“They know what Minerva has us doing. They won’t be offended by the delay.”
“I hope so. Sadie offered me any help I needed, so maybe we can let the villagers help on this one. People love to help.”
“Good people do. The Winsleys of the world, not so much.”
“True enough. But his way hasn’t got him very far so far, has it? People have helped us because they liked us. That will probably work on this next Mystery as well.”
Cage drew her in for a hug.
When he pulled away, Adie looked at him in surprise. “What was that for?”
“I realized I hadn’t properly congratulated you on solving Georgie’s Mystery. You hugged me, but now I’m hugging you. Well done, grasshopper, you are learning much.”
“Grasshopper?” Adie asked in confusion.
Cage groaned. “You really need to catch up on your cultural icons. That’s from a really old TV show called Kung Fu. The teacher would call the boy student Grasshopper.”
“Why?” Adie asked in bafflement.
“No idea. Just a nickname, maybe. But knowing that show, it probably had some significance.”
“Didn’t it come up in your trivia contest in the sandbox?” she asked.
He thought for a moment then shook his head. “Nope. Not that one. You remember everything I say, don’t you? You’re a bit scary.”