A Death in the Family

by Neil Richards

  She heard her mobile ring and dug around in her handbag to find it.

  “Jack.”

  “Hey. Useful trip?”

  “Just back,” she said, through a mouthful of salad.

  “You sound busy. You want I call back …?”

  “It’s fine, just grabbing lunch, kind of on the run today. Shall we catch up?”

  “Just what I called about. And I have a proposal.”

  “I’m all ears …”

  “Was thinking, what you were saying last night. You think Daniel can sort his own supper tonight?”

  “I would hope so. There’s enough food in the house to mount an expedition.”

  “Perfect. Because I’ve booked us a table for two at the Pig. We can catch up in style. How about that?”

  Sarah started to run through excuses in her head — reasons not to go out, spend money, have a good time, and then thought –

  What a terrific idea.

  Why the hell not?

  “Jack Brennan — that’s a deal. What time?”

  “Eight o’clock. I’ll have one of your fave martinis lined up.”

  She could almost hear him smiling. She smiled too, suddenly feeling happier than she’d felt in weeks.

  “Eight o’clock it is,” she said, then she put down the phone, already thinking about what she was going to order from the Pig’s amazing menu.

  9. Comparing Notes

  Jack checked his watch.

  Sarah running a bit late. He had asked The Spotted Pig co-owner Julie to leave the martini shakers with their frosty coating on the table so he could pour them out, icy cold, just as Sarah took her seat.

  He’d been thinking about some of the things Sarah had said the other night. The things that she was worried about.

  Chloe and Daniel growing up, the family that she built from a wrecked marriage disintegrating.

  Jack knew that feeling.

  He and his wife Katherine had felt it keenly when their daughter started dating.

  Then it was the two of them again.

  But for Sarah?

  On her own?

  Different story.

  The door to The Spotted Pig flew open, and Sarah — big smile — hurried over.

  “Sorry. Call from Daniel just as I was leaving …”

  “All good?”

  “Yeah. I think so. Eating at his mate’s, videogames on order. Back by 10, he said.”

  Jack poured Sarah’s martini. While she didn’t normally indulge, he had succeeded in showing her how a bracing icy martini could be the perfect way to end the workday.

  In her case, three olives skewered, while for him, a lemon twist, which Julie curled perfectly.

  “To time passing,” Jack said smiling and raising his glass as Sarah followed suit.

  With a clink, they sipped, then — before looking at the menu and specials for the evening — Jack asked some questions, curious how things went on their respective visits to see the Platt heirs.

  *

  “Kind of an odd bird,” Sarah said.

  “And Geoffrey … didn’t seem terribly upset at his dad’s death?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I think there’s some animosity there.”

  “But not enough to have gotten him kicked out of the will.”

  “Exactly. I think he must have just put up with it.”

  “And what did he think of his fellow beneficiaries?”

  “Hmm … not exactly forthcoming. I don’t think he’s happy sharing the money with the carer. But I mean, that’s hardly surprising. And as for the neighbor …”

  “Yes, the neighbour. Perhaps the most interesting in the group. How’d she get into the will?”

  “Right, well you know I have a theory about that. I was thinking—”

  But just then, Julie came by the table again.

  “So Jack, Sarah. You had a chance to look at the menu?”

  Jack looked up.

  The Spotted Pig was known for bringing seasonal ‘farm to table’ items into its regular menu, mixing things up. Still, when he came here there was one item Jack always had a hard time to resist.

  He looked over at Sarah.

  “You all set?”

  “I think so … the chicken tagine. Dates, cauliflowers, pearl onions. Sounds wonderful,” she said looking up.

  “Oh, it is. Good choice,” Julie said. “And you Jack?”

  “The steak au poivre, please, and make it—”

  Julie finished for him. “Rare, medium–rare?”

  He had been coming here often enough — even though it was a bit of a splurge — that the owners well knew his tastes for drinks and food.

  Another one of the great things about this village that he loved so much.

  “Precisely.”

  The chef’s wife scooped up the menus and scurried away.

  “God, I love this place,” he said.

  “Me too. Glad you get me to come out and enjoy it from time to time.”

  And for a moment he looked at Sarah.

  Every now and then she said something that … well, for just a moment it seemed … was about more than friendship.

  Though when he had that thought, he quickly pushed it away.

  Their friendship? Well, that was pure gold.

  Something to be protected and cherished.

  “Okay. Geoffrey didn’t like Dad. Suspicious of the neighbour. And no love lost for the lucky carer. Anything though to give you any concerns?”

  Sarah took a sip and looked away.

  “I’d say ‘no’. But then, I’m not sure. You know that feeling you have when you feel someone is holding something back?”

  Jack laughed. “Do I ever. Guess some of that has rubbed off on you.”

  Sarah laughed as well. “After all we’ve done together, I’m sure it has. It was just that — a feeling. The roly-poly man in his tiny out–dated computer repair shop … and thinking … there are things he’s not saying.”

  Jack nodded. “We may have to look elsewhere to find out what that may be. But for now, hold onto those instincts.”

  “And you, detective? Your trek to Gloucester?”

  “Yes. That cathedral? I think if I lived in that city, I’d spend a good hour a day sitting in the cathedral, thinking, reading. The power of the place …”

  “It is something special. But, having said that … did you just mention living in Gloucester …?”

  “Well, no. Place has hit tough times. That I saw.”

  “Very tough. Lots of struggling people. I don’t think it’s had the kind of help other places have, re-naming them ‘cultural centres’ and all that. Pouring money in. And the carer, her partner?”

  “Yeah. Well, we were talking instincts, right?”

  “Go on.”

  “Bit more than that. The woman spoke with a heavy accent. Didn’t say much. But she had a few bruises. I mean, things happen. But seeing her partner … the guy who says is going to marry her …”

  “You think he hit her?”

  A nod. “Can’t be sure. But I saw a lot of that in NYC. And even if it had nothing to do with the case — and often against the advice and orders of my captain — I’d step in and do something about it. Stuff like that, I can’t stand.”

  “I can imagine.”

  At that moment, Julie brought over the salad, split on two plates. One of their regular servers, a young guy who probably dreamed of having such a place of his own someday, brought home–baked bread, a crusty sourdough.

  And as Jack and Sarah ate their salad …

  “The guy — Robert Grieco — was pretty forthcoming. Maybe he assumed — on behalf of Tony — that they best cooperate with me to get the cash flowing …”

  “You think Maria really cared for Harry?”

  “Not sure. But this Grieco? You may want to check on him. Admitted to owing some money to local bookies. Was rather surprised he opened up about that. Like I said, think he thought cooperating was the way to go. But I asked him about the
banister on the stairs.”

  “And?”

  “Took a minute. But then he said he had repaired it. A while back.”

  “And then it went wobbly again? Maybe he just did a bad job.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Just another odd fact. That and why was Harry upstairs? Sleeps downstairs. All set with his cup of tea. And somehow he is way up there, primed for a tumble?”

  “Geoffrey said the house was dark when he arrived that night.”

  “Oh really? Hmm.”

  Sarah took another sip of her martini, olives vanished.

  While she tended to nurse her martini, Jack had hit the point where he could easily order another.

  But instead …

  “Some wine?”

  “Hmm, maybe just a glass. I’ve got an early morning conference call.”

  “A Picpoul, then. You can bring the leftovers home.”

  “You know Jack, it’s always interesting when we hit this point …”

  “This point?”

  “Yes. When we both feel there’s something there. But none of the pieces have fallen into place.”

  He laughed. “Yup. And that is the hard part. As you have learned.”

  She grinned back. “Hard. But fun, no?”

  “Can be. This, tonight, is, anyway.”

  “So, do you see a way forward to find those missing pieces?”

  “Maybe. Think one of us has to speak with the neighbor — Kirsty Lane. And I hadn’t finished looking at those stairs and around the house when you came back with Peggy. Love another shot at that.”

  “Shall I see what I can find out about Grieco online? Maybe roughing up women isn’t the only bad thing he’s done.”

  “See, there you go. Plans. Maybe we’ll find our missing puzzle pieces somewhere in all that.”

  “And there’s the daughter in France. I keep meaning to get her number from Tony.”

  The mains arrived, Jack’s filet topped with a creamy brandy and pepper sauce, with perfect frites and crisp, just–picked haricots verts.

  Or — he remembered, as he used to call them when they came out of a Bird’s Eye frozen package a long time ago in Brooklyn — string beans.

  Sarah’s tagine was served in a crock pot, bubbling with chunks of chicken in a dark, brown sauce … the smell absolutely amazing.

  And Jack leaned forward.

  “Did I already say how much I love this place?”

  And Sarah nodded, queuing up that first forkful of chicken. “As you yanks say … what’s not to love?”

  And for the next few minutes, all they did was savour the wonderful food.

  *

  Leaving The Spotted Pig, having lingered over a decaf espresso and some gelato — also homemade — Sarah turned to him.

  “Jack, thanks for tonight. It was good to get out. Empty nest looming and all that.”

  “My pleasure. Yeah, I guess with Chloe soon off, then another few years, Daniel’s turn … it’s what’s ahead, hmm?”

  “When the time comes, I’ll ask you for some hints. Transitioning.”

  He nodded. He knew that she wouldn’t have to transition quite the way he did.

  Losing a life partner you loved …

  Not quite the same as divorcing a guy who you thought loved you, but probably — end of the day — was incapable of love.

  “When the time comes for those hints, I’ll be here.”

  And as soon as he said that, he had to wonder …

  True?

  Here for the next few years?

  Here — forever?

  Not something that he really thought about these days.

  And — he thought — maybe he should.

  “So, tomorrow?”

  “I had an idea about that,” Sarah said. “You want to have another look in the house. We could easily ask Peggy. But I think maybe we’ve shaken her up too much already. How about I invite her out for afternoon tea? To kind of let her know what we were doing. On behalf of Tony and the estate? Gives you a window …”

  “What’s the word? Yup — brilliant.”

  She smiled.

  “And maybe I should drop by the neighbor in the morning?” he said.

  “Sounds good. I’ll hit the online stuff as well. Check out Grieco.”

  “Hmm, maybe look into Harry’s past as well? After all, occurs to me we don’t know much about him, right?”

  “Right.” She took a breath. “Sounds like a full day. And maybe,” she said, “tomorrow night this time we’ll know that the whole thing was just, really, an accident.”

  Jack nodded.

  That could be the likely outcome.

  And yet, with both of their instincts somehow pointing in some other unknown direction, he wasn’t at all sure about that.

  10. The Good Neighbour

  Jack pulled up around the corner from the Platts’ house, turned off the engine and checked his watch. He had just about an hour to interview Kirsty Lane then head down the road, wait for Peggy to leave to meet Sarah, and find a way into the house. He checked his pocket for the little velvet bag of lock picks that he used on occasions like this.

  A gift from a grateful suspect back in NYC years ago in return for a favour.

  Here in Cherringham, they’d proved very useful.

  He climbed out of the car and walked across to the small terraced house where Tony had told him the surprise heir lived.

  He stood at the little wicker gate and took in the place. A tiny cottage in a terrace — like something out of a children’s story. A sign on the wooden gate said ‘Avalon Found’. Above it curved an arch of winding branches, what looked to Jack like yew.

  He went through the gate and walked up the cobbled stone path. On either side, he could see gnomes, fairies, tiny fantasy characters made of plastic, lurking in the shrubs and flowerbeds.

  He tapped on the front door, taking in the butterfly transfers on the windows, and a little sign that told him Peace in your Heart brings Peace to the World.

  Very true, he thought. It’s what’s in the other guy’s heart though — that’s always the problem.

  The door opened and a small woman in a long flowery dress, with frizzy long hair, and big eyes stood staring at him inquisitively.

  Jack smiled back.

  “Ms. Lane?”

  “Kirsty, please,” said the woman, smiling.

  “I think Tony called you? Jack Brennan?”

  The smile disappeared.

  “Yes, of course,” she said. “You’d better come in.”

  She stepped aside and Jack ducked through the tiny doorframe and went into the dark cottage.

  “Just go through,” said Kirsty, behind him.

  Jack walked towards the light that he saw at the back of the house — and entered a tiny sitting room with barely enough space for a sofa and an armchair.

  Through French windows, Jack could see the rear garden of the cottage: more creatures, a metal flamingo, stone cats, owls.

  “Do sit,” said Kirsty, joining him. “I have an appointment in twenty minutes so I’m afraid we don’t have long.”

  “Of course,” said Jack. “You do some kind of therapy, hmm?”

  “Healing.”

  Jack waited for more, but Kirsty had clearly decided more information would be wasted on him. He decided to start.

  “Okay, Tony asked us to just clarify a few things about Mr. Platt and the various beneficiaries. I guess you were surprised to learn about the inheritance?”

  “Very surprised.”

  “So you didn’t really know Harry then?”

  “Oh, I knew him very well. And Peggy. Or rather — I used to know them. But I’d not seen either of them — apart from passing in the street, you know — for a couple of years.”

  “So why — if you don’t mind me asking — do you think Harry left you all this money?”

  “I have absolutely no idea. But I’m certainly not objecting. As you can see, this place is rather small. The money will allow me to buy a bigger
house — with a proper healing room.”

  Jack nodded. This whole thing was baffling. Give half a million dollars to a neighbor you haven’t seen for two years? What was Harry thinking?

  “Tell me about when you used to see Harry and Peggy. Would you say you were friends?”

  “To start with, yes. Of course Harry was much … better, then. In a better place, you know?”

  “I do,” said Jack. “Did you see them a lot?”

  “More than once a week. I used to paint with Peggy. And I did some healing work with Harry …”

  She paused. Jack could see she was uneasy, remembering …

  “He had … issues. You know? The war. He was … damaged.”

  “Not a lot of guys who go through a war come home without being damaged,” said Jack, thinking not just of his own family, but men he’d served with on the NYPD.

  “Ah, then you understand,” said Kirsty.

  “Did he get angry? Have a temper?” said Jack.

  Kirsty nodded.

  “How about the daughter? And their son, Geoffrey? Did you know them?”

  “The daughter was never there,” said Kirsty.

  “And Geoffrey?”

  Jack saw her take a deep breath as though about to plunge …

  “I’ll be honest with you,” she said. “I didn’t like him. He was …”

  “Creepy?” said Jack, using the word that Sarah had used.

  “Yes,” said Kirsty. “Exactly. Always watching.”

  “Watching?”

  “You know. Like he was … thinking things. Bad things.”

  Jack nodded. Kirsty was clearly uneasy at some memory — time to change the subject.

  “So, you did some healing for Harry. But then you didn’t see either him or Peggy so much?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And was that a general thing, the way we kinda just lose touch with people? Or was it sudden? Something happen?”

  Kirsty seemed to pause, as if looking for the right answer.

  “No. Just … drifted apart I suppose.”

  Jack watched her. She looked away.

  You’re lying, lady, he thought. And that’s interesting.

  He thought back to what the Buckland sisters had said about Harry — about his wandering hands.

  “Couple of other people have told me that Harry could be a little — how shall I put it — forward? You ever see that?”