by Sherri Bryan
He bent and kissed the top of her head and threw the toy that Pippin had just brought back.
“Take care,” Charlotte called after him with a frown. The thought that a murderer was still on the loose in St. Eves was becoming more distressing by the day.
ººººººº
The following Tuesday, Charlotte was peeling carrots when her mobile phone rang. The number was a local one, but she didn’t recognize it.
“Good morning, Miss Denver. My name is Alexander Young, from Beckett, Young and Davies. We are the firm handling the estate of Mr Thomas Potts. I’m calling to inform you that you have been named as a beneficiary in Mr Potts’ will, and as such, I wonder if it would be convenient for you to attend the reading of the will at four-thirty tomorrow afternoon?”
“Me?” said Charlotte. “Are you sure you’ve got the right person?”
“You are Miss Charlotte Denver of 26, Northwicket Road, are you not?”
“Er, yes.”
“Then I have the right person,” said the man in a cheery voice.
“Oh. Wow. Okay. What time did you say, again?”
“Four-thirty. Is that convenient?”
“Um, not really. I have a café on the marina and we don’t close until six. Is there another time I could come?”
“Well, in that case, how about six-thirty? I’m sure the rest of the beneficiaries will be happy to accommodate you,” said Mr Young.
I doubt that very much, thought Charlotte as she searched for a pen to take down the address of the solicitor’s office.
ººººººº
Charlotte and Nathan arrived at the office at 6.25 the following evening. She and Jess had cleared up in double-quick time and she’d asked Nathan if he could spare half an hour to go with her. She hated anything official like this.
The offices were in an attractive building at the far end of the high street. She pressed the buzzer marked Beckett, Young and Davies on the panel next to the shiny, dark-blue front door and waited for an answer.
“Good evening, Beckett, Young and Davies.” A welcoming voice that went up on the first syllable of ‘Davies’, answered.
“Oh, hello. This is Charlotte Denver. I have an appointment with Mr Young at six-thirty.”
“Ah, yes, Miss Denver,” a woman’s voice crackled out of the speaker. “Push the door and turn right. Then follow the corridor until you come to the red door. I’ll buzz you in.”
A minute later, Charlotte was knocking on the red door, which was answered swiftly by a smiling, elegant woman in an emerald green, tailored trouser suit.
“Please, come in and take a seat. Mr Young will be out to see you shortly.”
No sooner had they made themselves comfortable in the squashy couches along the wall, than a door leading off the room opened, and an elderly man with deep laughter lines around his eyes and a completely bald head came towards them, his hand extended.
“Hello, I’m Alexander Young. I’m very pleased to meet you.”
“This is Mr Costello,” Charlotte introduced Nathan. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought someone with me?”
“Ah, the Chief Inspector, if I’m not mistaken? Delighted to meet you. No, no, not at all,” said the solicitor. “The more, the merrier, I always say.
“Now, come into the office and we’ll get started. I should mention that Mr Potts’ family are already here, and although they know that someone else is attending the reading, they don’t know who it is. I wasn’t sure of the relationship between you, if any, so thought it best to say nothing until you arrived.”
Charlotte suddenly felt queasy. “There is no relationship between us. I barely know them.”
Alexander Young patted her arm. “No matter, I’m sure their barks are much worse than their bites,” he said jovially, as he led them into his office.
I wouldn’t bet on it, thought Charlotte.
The inner office was light and airy. The early evening sunlight streamed through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, at which hung pale-lemon silk curtains, fluttering in the light breeze that blew through an open pane.
Alexander Young pulled up another chair for Nathan. “Please, sit down, Mr Costello.” Turning to Tom’s family, he said, “Well, I understand that you know Miss Denver, so no introductions are necessary.” He looked pleasantly from Charlotte’s nauseous expression, to the fearsome faces next to her, and his smiled dimmed slightly. “Yes, well – incidentally, Mr Costello is simply accompanying Miss Denver, he is not here in the capacity of beneficiary. Should we get started?”
“What the hell are they doing here?” asked Ellis Potts, so furious that his face had turned puce.
“I bet she forced Dad to put her in the will when he was ill. She probably only got to know him just before he was taken into hospital. I bet she’d never wasted her time on him before that,” said Victoria with a sneer.
Charlotte jumped to her feet. “How dare you say that! I knew your dad for almost eight years and I thought the world of him! Everyone did – he was one of most wonderful men I’ve ever met and I miss him every, single day. How on earth he ever fathered children like you, I’ll never know. You’re disgusting, and an embarrassment to his memory!”
She sat down with a thud, the sound of the Potts family’s insults ringing in her ears. She looked straight ahead, her cheeks burning and tears pricking her eyelids, and when she could trust herself to speak, she apologised to the solicitor. “I’m so sorry, Mr Young. There is no excuse for behaviour like that.” She was furious with herself for losing her temper.
She took Nathan’s hand and held it tightly. She dared not look at him, because she knew she’d burst into tears if she did. He squeezed it back, and she felt comforted.
“Oh, don’t even give it a thought, Miss Denver,” said the solicitor, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ve had fisticuffs in here before now, so your outburst was tame by comparison. Anyway, should we get on with the matter in hand?” He took a large folder from the stack of trays on his desk and laid it on the desk in front of him.
“Okay. So, this is the last will and testament of Thomas Potts.”
As the solicitor read the portion of Tom’s will that referred to his family, Charlotte tuned out. She had not the slighted interest in their inheritance. As she sat quietly, she glanced at Nathan and he gave her an encouraging wink and a smile. She hoped the reading wouldn’t take too long.
“….. and also my wife, Rose’s, jewellery, my stamp collection, my coin collection, my war medals and the total sum of my bank accounts.” Alexander Young paused, then said, “I am delighted to tell you that the total sum of your father’s bank accounts is a considerable sum. He became a shrewd investor over the years, teaching himself how to speculate on the markets wisely. He even saw some huge returns on the odd risky investment, while others lost fortunes on supposedly safe ones. He was a very clever man.”
“So how much have we got?” asked Ellis and Victoria. “Write it down. We don’t want her to know our business.”
Alexander Young scribbled a note and passed it across the desk. As the family began to screech with delight and discuss how they were going to spend their new-found wealth, the solicitor turned to Charlotte.
“And now to you, Miss Denver.” The family fell silent, curious to know what their father could possibly have left to Charlotte.
“As you now know, Mr Potts wanted you to benefit in his will, also.” He opened the folder and took an envelope from it, which he handed to Charlotte, along with a flat box.
Oh, my, if looks could kill, I’d have just keeled over, thought Charlotte as she stole a glance at the Potts family.
Inside the envelope was a note. “May I suggest that you read the letter before opening the box, Miss Denver,” said Alexander Young.
Charlotte nodded and began to read Tom’s scrawly handwriting.
“Charlotte, my dear,
I am so proud to call you my friend. You have been very good to me over the years and I hope you will allo
w me to show my deepest gratitude.
This is for you – I hope you will keep it, love it and enjoy it as much as I have.
With much love.
Sincerely,
Your friend, Tom.”
She smiled and found her eyes were blurred. She blinked and a big, fat, tear fell onto the note. Nathan’s ever-present handkerchief suddenly came into view, and she took it gratefully. She was cross with herself for crying in front of the Potts’.
The box was heavy, and gave a faint rattle as she turned it on its end to open it. Inside was a photograph in an antique, filigree silver frame. A photograph taken on a sunny day when the hanging baskets were in full bloom, and the sky provided a cloudless, vivid blue backdrop for Tom’s beautiful stone cottage.
“Thank you. It’ll take pride of place on my mantelpiece.” She dabbed her eyes as an image of Tom sitting at his kitchen table, carefully putting the photograph into the frame, flashed through her mind. “I’ll think of Tom whenever I look at it,” she said happily.
“Er, Charlottte, I have a feeling that you may have missed the point,” said Nathan, exchanging an amused glance with the solicitor.
Alexander Young cleared his throat. “You do understand, Miss Denver, that Mr Potts has left you the cottage?”
She looked at him, blankly. “Huh?”
As she focused on the solicitor’s kindly face, his lips formed in a wide smile and she began to realize the enormity of what he’d just told her. She became aware of Tom’s family going crazy beside her, and Nathan putting his arm around her shoulders.
“I don’t get it,” she said. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Nathan laughed. “Charlotte, Tom has left you the cottage in his will … it’s yours.”
“I couldn’t have explained it more clearly myself, Mr Costello,” replied Alexander Young, smiling broadly.
For all of ten seconds, Charlotte was dumbstruck. Then she screamed at the top of her voice. “Are you joking? Nathan, is he joking? Tom left the cottage to me? The actual cottage, not just the photograph? The cottage is mine?” she said and promptly burst into tears.
She felt someone tap her hard on the shoulder and turned to see Ellis and Victoria standing behind her, looks of pure fury on their faces.
“You think that cottage is yours?” spat Victoria. “You really think we’re going to stand by and do nothing while you steal our inheritance from us? Oh, my, if you think this is over, you can think again.” She flung the door open and stormed out of the office.
“Yeah, and you’d better get used to looking at that photograph, because that’s the closest you’re ever gonna to get to that cottage,” Ellis threatened, before grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and chasing after his sister.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Rachel said to the twins, shooting Charlotte a vitriolic stare before following her husband and slamming the door so hard, the pictures on the walls rattled.
The euphoria Charlotte had been feeling was immediately replaced by a sense of doom. “Can they do that? Overturn Tom’s wishes, I mean?” she asked the solicitor.
“Well, they can try, and I’ll be honest with you, as his legal heirs, they stand a good chance. However, that’s not to say that they’ll win … I’ve heard of plenty of other cases where non-family members have inherited over blood-relatives and spouses. How about we just see what happens and take it from there? Here’s my card if you have any questions in the meantime.”
Nathan drove Charlotte home in silence. Her emotions had been up and down like a yoyo and she wasn’t in the mood to talk.
“Do you want some company for a while?” he asked when he pulled up outside her house.
She shook her head. “No, I’m not very good company at the moment, but thanks anyway. And thanks for coming with me.” She leaned across to kiss him and he drove off, waving from the window.
As she walked up the path, she heard Pippin yapping excitedly and it brought a smile to her face. It didn’t matter how long she’d been away – five minutes or five hours – he always greeted her as though he hadn’t seen her for months when she walked through the door.
Bending down, she ruffled his coat as he stood on his back legs and planted wet kisses all over her face. She scratched behind his ears and between his shoulders and he rolled over onto his back. He was very pleased to see her.
Charlotte picked up the box and took out the photograph. She put it on the mantelpiece and gazed at it.
“I can’t thank you enough for thinking of me Tom,” she said aloud. “You have no idea how much I would cherish that cottage if it were mine. If you really want us to have it, though - me and Pippin, I mean - help us out, will you? Send a little of that angel dust our way.”
She kissed the photograph and went to give Pippin his dinner.
Chapter 10
Garrett and Laura Walton were enjoying a rare treat – lunch together at Charlotte’s Plaice, courtesy of Charlotte herself.
“Well, if I can’t treat my godparents to lunch in my own café when I want to, it’s a pretty poor state of affairs!” said Charlotte, and she placed a platter of chicken and shrimp kebabs with peanut sauce in between them.
“Well, we’re very grateful, sweetheart,” said Laura. “You know how difficult it is to get Garrett out during the week. As soon as he gets home after bringing the boat back in, he falls asleep on the couch. Poor love, I can’t blame him. Fishing in these waters must really take it out of him. But you know Garrett. If he’s not on the water, he’s tinkering about in the water, or by the water … I’m sure he’s got salt water running through his veins! I mean, you know that we’re only here today because the boat’s been lifted out of the water for maintenance. Sometimes I think he feels lost on dry land. Y’know, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.”
“Er, hello … I’m sitting right here,” said Garrett, waving at his wife.
Laura laughed and reached across the table to stroke his hand. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so used to talking about you when you’re not here, it must have become a habit!”
“So, any news on the hunt for the killer or the missing lottery ticket?” asked Garrett, as he pulled a piece of chicken off his kebab skewer and dunked it in peanut sauce.
“Nope, nothing that I know of,” said Charlotte. Even though she trusted Garrett and Laura with her life, she would never betray Nathan’s confidence.
“You know, she was a big woman, that Miranda Potts,” said Garrett. “And mean, too. Whoever took her on must have had a death wish.”
“Garrett! Don’t speak about the dead like that,” Laura reproached him.
“Sorry – just thinking aloud,” Garrett apologised as he tackled his second skewer.
“Well, don’t.” Laura grinned. “How about we change the subject?”
“Good idea,” agreed Charlotte. “Well, I’m looking forward to making a huge pan of soup with that bag of wonderful shellfish you gave me. And, as Nathan’s working late tonight, I’m going to eat it all myself!”
ººººººº
Charlotte had just settled down with a large bowl of shellfish soup and the latest edition of ‘Hey, you!’ magazine, when her phone rang. The message on the screen told her it was an unknown caller, so she fully expected it to be someone trying to sell her insurance, a new bathroom or something else she currently had no need of.
“Hello.” She couldn’t have sounded less enthusiastic.
“Charlotte?” said an unfamiliar voice.
“Yes.”
“Oh, hello, Charlotte. You don’t know me, but I had dinner at your café last Sunday. In fact, I’m just here now. I was hoping to call in and book again for this Sunday, but you’re closed.”
“Yes, we close up at around six.” Charlotte tried to sound a little more convivial as she hungrily eyed her bowl of soup, packed with coral pink shrimp and glossy black mussel shells, revealing their blaze of orange meat within.
“Oh, well, no matter. Anyway,
the real reason for my call is to tell you that when I arrived, the doors to the café were open. It was obvious that no one was here, so I thought I’d better try and let you know so you could come and make the place secure. It felt like the neighbourly thing to do,” said the caller.
Charlotte sprung up on the couch as panic set in. “What do you mean, the doors were open? Has there been a break-in?”
“Oh, no, there doesn’t appear to have been,” said the voice. “It just looks as though you forgot to lock the doors when you left.”
“Oh, right. Okay, well, I’ll be straight down. Thanks for letting me know - I’m much obliged. Listen, if you give me your name, I’ll make sure there’s a table reserved for you on Sunday, with a complimentary bottle of wine for your trouble.”
A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Um, out of interest, how did you get my number? Hello? Hello?”
The line had gone dead.
As Charlotte pulled on her boots, she reasoned that it was quite feasible that the caller could have asked any one of the other property owners on the marina for her number. She had a good relationship with her neighbours, and they all looked out for each other.
“Come on, Pip,” she said, looking forlornly at her bowl of soup, and a pair of black shrimp’s eyes looked beadily back at her.
ººººººº
Charlotte arrived at the marina ten minutes later and leaned her bike up against the railings at the entrance to Pier 4. It was dark now and the marina was coming to life. Lit up with table lanterns and hanging garlands of white light, soft music drifted out of the bars and restaurants as they prepared to welcome their guests.
She looked around to see if there was any sign of the good Samaritan who had called her, but apart from a few drinkers sitting on the terraces of other bars, and customers going in and out of the Mini-Mart a few doors down, there was no one to be seen.
She walked through the door of the awning, her keys in her hand ready to lock the glass doors of the café. As she drew closer, she could see that the chain and padlock around the handle were securely fastened. She went up to the doors and pulled on them, just to be absolutely certain that they were locked, which they undoubtedly were.