A Death in the Family

by Neil Richards

  “And you saw Jack find it.”

  He shot a look to Jack.

  Talk about intimidation, she thought. Geoffrey nearly cringing.

  Another nod.

  “You knew that your father hurt your mother — yet again — that night. That’s why you had the cameras, didn’t you?”

  But Geoffrey shook his head. “No. I mean — not at first. When I saw a bruise, I didn’t say anything, to Mum. But I put them in. To spy on the carer. But she didn’t do anything bad. She even helped my mum!”

  “But your father?”

  Geoffrey still held the hammer. Sarah thought she saw his fingers clench tighter.

  “He was the one hurting her, wasn’t he? Like he hurt you. Your sister.”

  “Yes.”

  Now, with a glance at Sarah, Jack leaned forward. He put a hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder.

  Was that a secret cop trick? A reassuring pat before you deliver the bad news?

  “So you did it? The banister, the steps, getting your dad to come up here, then … a push …”

  And amazingly, as they watched, Geoffrey’s head bobbed.

  “Y–yes. I did. I had to, and—”

  Then a clear, steely voice echoed from an upstairs room.

  Cutting through this quiet chat, this confrontation on the stairs.

  “No. That is most definitely not true.”

  Sarah looked at Jack.

  And as they waited, they heard the voice closer now, and steps … until Peggy was beside them, looking at the scene, her son Geoffrey on the top steps fiddling with the nails, the hammer.

  Jack still leaning forward.

  “My son Geoffrey couldn’t have done it, you see … because I did.”

  *

  Peggy had led them down to the kitchen insisting that any further revelations would obviously need a hefty pot of tea.

  They all sat around the kitchen table.

  “You see Jack, Sarah … I didn’t know about these cameras. Or that Geoffrey was, well, looking out for me. And that night Harry got into a state.”

  She took a sip of her tea.

  The woman wore a half–smile as if they were discussing a minor mishap.

  “I had returned from Oxford — all new supplies, paints, frames. I was very excited. And Harry started in on me, just like he always did. Maria, well, she was still here. Even tried to intervene, especially after he gave me a smack.”

  And Geoffrey — at that word — reached out and took his mother’s right hand.

  “It had happened before. But he had wrecked so many of my things. Wood frames broken. Canvas twisted, it—”

  “Had to have been terrible,” Jack said.

  “It was. So …”

  Another sip.

  “I made Maria promise not to say a word. Promise. Then, after she left — quite worried I might add — he carried on. Ranting really. About the will. About Maria. Other … women …”

  “Kirsty,” said Jack.

  “He said terrible things,” said Peggy. “I don’t know if they were true or if it was all in his head. I don’t care. He just wanted to hurt me. Anyway … I decided it was time to do something. Something I had been thinking about …”

  Sarah felt the woman look right at her, as if after their garden chats, she would — of course — understand.

  “I had a bit of a go at the banister, the stairs. I’ve become pretty handy myself, lately, you know. Had to, what with Harry ‘off in space’ most of the time.”

  Sarah had a thought: she’s confessing …

  Amazing.

  “And you … got him to come upstairs?”

  A nod. “Like getting a little cat to come explore.”

  “And at the top,” Jack said. ”You gave him a push?”

  “Mum,” Geoffrey said, “you don’t have to—”

  But Peggy put up a single finger, quieting her son.

  “No, Jim … oh, I mean, Jack. It turns out that I didn’t need to do such a good job making things loose up there — Harry went tumbling down all by himself. And just like that — it was over.”

  She reached down and finished her tea.

  Sarah turned to Geoffrey. “And you saw it all. On your cameras.”

  Geoffrey nodded and looked away.

  Sarah had thought him creepy. But he had offered to take the blame for his mother’s crime.

  Not creepy at all.

  “So — I’m ready to, well, how do they put it? Take me to jail. Book me, or whatever it is they do?”

  Sarah saw Jack smile at the woman and then turn back to her.

  “Sarah — um, got a minute?” He stood up, and Sarah did as well.

  “Peggy, Geoffrey, we’ll be right back, okay?”

  Then Jack turned, walking out of the kitchen as Sarah followed.

  *

  And he led the way out to the kitchen, to the garden so they stood beside Peggy’s painting shed.

  “I never would have guessed, Jack.”

  “Me neither.”

  He looked at the shed, then back to Sarah as he seemed to be wrestling with something.

  “What’s up? We solved it. You should be, I don’t know … pleased?”

  “Glad we know what happened. But having Peggy arrested?”

  “I know. Somehow — that seems wrong.”

  “Right.”

  Sarah knew that for Jack, the law was sacred. But she could guess what he was going to say next.

  “Nothing to be gained by turning her in. That Harry — seems like he got what was coming to him, I mean … if you want to talk justice.”

  “Agree,” she said. “And though she wanted to kill him — in the end she didn’t quite … did she? Theoretically.”

  “Theoretically.”

  Then Sarah said, “So … we let it go?”

  Jack winced at that. This was still hard for him.

  “I think so. If you agree. Let her get back to her painting. Harry hurt a lot of people, and now he’s gone.”

  And Sarah added what they would tell Tony, and anyone else who asked.

  “Turns out, after all, that Harry did just have … an unfortunate accident.”

  “Precisely,” Jack said, then a smile returning, deliberations over.

  And together, they walked back to the kitchen to tell the mother and her protective son that … that story would be their official verdict on what happened the night there was a death in the family.

  *

  When they told Peggy and Geoffrey just that — it felt like exactly the right thing to do.

  And on the way out, Sarah’s thoughts turned to her plans for the very next day …

  15. A Surprise

  Jack scratched Riley on top of his head, both of them resting from a long romp in the meadow.

  The Springer certainly got Jack out and exercising more than he would.

  And then Jack again slid his phone out of his jeans pocket.

  Still nothing from his daughter.

  No point in leaving any more messages — they all went straight to voicemail.

  What’s it been … twenty-four hours? Thirty-six? he thought.

  But it could be she and her husband, Tom, and their absolutely wonderful four–year–old daughter, Emma, were just travelling.

  To some place that didn’t have service.

  Jack knew too well from personal experience that US phones sometimes became completely useless in other countries.

  But she hadn’t mentioned any trips.

  “What do you think, Riley?” Jack said.

  The dog looked up as if he too was confused by the lack of response.

  And then — while Jack still held the phone — it rang.

  *

  “Jack, hey!”

  Sarah.

  After they’d told Peggy that there was nothing to be done with Harry and what happened — other than everyone moving on — he and Sarah hadn’t had a chance to talk it over.

  Though he knew, sooner or later, that time would co
me.

  “Jack?”

  “Yup?”

  “Happy Birthday!”

  Right.

  His birthday.

  Not something he really paid any attention to.

  Get to a point in your life that they’re like markers on a road where you seem to be going faster and faster.

  “Hey, thanks. Though I do try to forget about them these days.”

  “I hear you! They’re gaining on me too.”

  Though Jack knew that Sarah had most of her life ahead of her. Her kids grown, married … with their own kids too one day.

  Lots of good stuff ahead, Jack hoped.

  “I was thinking … and not to make it a big deal of it or anything … but do you fancy meeting for a pint at the Ploughman’s? Just a quick one?”

  “Well …”

  “Come on, Jack. A quick birthday beer. Celebrate another year working together.”

  Then when he didn’t immediately agree …

  “To another year being friends …”

  “Okay, okay. You got me. What time?”

  “How about six o’clock? I’m backed up at work a bit.”

  “Sure. Nice day … maybe a bit of fishing this afternoon. A little snooze. So, see you then. But Sarah—”

  “Yes?”

  “No present.”

  “That’s a deal, Mr. Brennan. Besides, I’ve had no time to shop or anything, I’m so up to my eyes.”

  “Good. I’ll see you there.”

  Then, the call ended, Jack held his phone.

  Sooner or later he’d hear from his daughter.

  Sure.

  And he went back to scratching Riley’s head, and looking at the sleepy river, so still this morning.

  Birthdays, he thought.

  Guess there is no escaping them. And a beer or two won’t make it any more of a pain …

  *

  Jack pulled into the driveway of the Ploughman’s … strangely empty for a Friday night.

  People out enjoying the good weather maybe?

  He did see his neighbour Ray standing outside, smoking one of his roll–ups.

  Jack parked and got out of the car. Almost six. He guessed Sarah could already be there.

  “Ray, what you doing?”

  Ray tended to prefer his beverages on his own barge, minimising the dangers of walking and navigating.

  Now he had a guilty look on his face as he inhaled deeply.

  “Just having a fag, Jack. Damn smoking laws …”

  The Ploughman’s was indeed a safer place to breathe without all the smoke that it had endured for centuries.

  Then …

  Well, it was his birthday Jack figured …

  “When you’re done, come on in, Ray. Have a drink.”

  Ray nodded, smiled nervously.

  Odd bird, Jack thought. I kinda like him that way …

  *

  Sarah stood at the bar a moment after her phone had vibrated in her hand from Ray’s text … his alert.

  Jack on his way.

  Looking at the door, as she saw Jack, all blurry and multi–coloured from the bevelled panes of glass of the pub’s door, pushing it open.

  The lights low in the pub.

  Everyone so quiet.

  Until …

  Jack came in, pulling the door closed behind him, and everyone popped out of chairs and from behind the bar and yelled …

  As loudly as they could: “Happy Birthday!”

  Jack froze.

  He looked shocked, Sarah saw.

  More than she had ever seen him in anything they had done together.

  It took a second for his eyes to find hers.

  Did he look happy?

  Hard to tell.

  But in moments he was surrounded by people, a pint quickly put in his hand …

  And then he seemed to melt, his face breaking into a smile as people slapped his back.

  Tony Standish shaking his hand, leaning in, saying something into his ear, then the two of them laughing.

  That morning, Sarah had phoned Tony and told him that they’d drawn a blank on the Platt inheritance. The lawyer had thanked them and apologised for sending them ‘on a wild goose chase’.

  But she knew he was shrewd enough to have guessed she hadn’t quite told him the whole story …

  Now the Bucklands stepped forward, carrying a big box, a gift — god! — that Jack would be forced to accept.

  Alan River was there too, looking smart in his police uniform — he had handed Jack the beer.

  Pete Bull, Sarah’s parents, Michael, Helen, even dear old Lady Repton … all standing close.

  Just about the whole village.

  Not least those who Jack had helped.

  Those — Sarah knew — who loved this big yank from NYC.

  Sarah didn’t move. Just taking it all in. A surprise for a man who probably hated surprises.

  But it was certainly time for Cherringham to tell Jack how much they appreciated all he had done.

  Eventually Jack looked back up to her.

  A disapproving roll of his eyes quickly replaced by that warm smile and then — though she may have imagined this — him mouthing the words ‘thank you’.

  And he looked up to see the banner that Billy had hung, the big letters stretching from one end of the bar to the other.

  Happy Birthday, Jack Brennan — and thanks!

  Sarah waited until the crowd of well–wishers engulfing Jack had subsided and then they could have a private little toast.

  She waited for that moment …

  But it wasn’t to come.

  Unthinkable.

  Instead, something else happened.

  *

  She saw Jack raise a hand to those standing near him, everyone grinning, talking.

  He had a call.

  Apparently an important call.

  And then, phone to his ear, he turned away from everyone as Sarah watched him walk back outside.

  The partygoers carried on talking, pints in hand. Music had started … an Irish trio playing in the back.

  Food to come as well. Big steaks! Everyone having pitched in to make this one of those Cherringham nights that no one would forget.

  And then minutes gone by, and Jack still hadn’t come back.

  So Sarah left her place at the bar, and walked through the sea of people to the door …

  Heading after Jack.

  Feeling something unknown, something that made her apprehensive.

  She moved quickly, pushed the door open.

  And saw Jack talking intensely to Ray, who nodded.

  Then Ray — seeing Sarah — backed away.

  And with, suddenly, such a great fear, Sarah walked towards Jack.

  His face now grey, lined, eyes lost to whatever had just happened.

  And she walked right up to him, and said the words which later — when she looked back on it — would seem stupid.

  “Jack … everything okay?”

  And he shook his head.

  *

  And then — he spoke quickly.

  “No. My daughter, her husband … they were in a car accident. Day before yesterday. They’re in the ICU at UCLA Medical Centre, and …”

  “God. And your granddaughter—?“

  Another head shake. “Was with a neighbor, a sitter. She’s okay, but but — I … I—”

  And she thought at that moment he’d break. And if he broke, she knew she would as well.

  Feeling so helpless standing here.

  But then with a deep sniff, steeling himself, Jack said: “I got to go. Going now …”

  “Yes, yes. Of course.”

  He nodded to Ray. “Ray will keep an eye on the Goose. But can you—”

  “Anything, Jack,” she said, absolutely meaning it.

  “Take Riley in? Watch him …”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And when I know more I’ll call you. But now … got to get the train to London … throw some clothes in a bag,
get a flight.”

  “Anything else I can do?”

  “No. But if there is … I’ll call …”

  Then it seemed like Jack didn’t know what to do. But Sarah felt that his fear, this fear, wasn’t something he had seen before.

  And she came close and hugged him tight.

  “You take care.”

  And she didn’t say what people often say …

  It will be all right.

  Because sometimes it isn’t.

  And then, releasing her good friend …

  Her partner — literally — in crime.

  Jack turned, hurried to his Sprite and drove away sending the driveway gravel kicking up behind him.

  And like that — Jack Brennan left Cherringham.

  *

  And when Sarah went with Ray to Jack’s boat … his Grey Goose that almost seemed to be part of him … she saw Riley, tail wagging, as usual glad to see her.

  She grabbed the dog’s food and water bowls. A leash (though Riley preferred running completely free so the leash was seldom used).

  A bag of dog food.

  “Don’t worry,” a shaken Ray said. “I–I’ll keep a good eye on the Goose. Until he gets back.”

  Then with a whistle to Riley, who seemed to know he was about to leave the boat … Sarah left the Grey Goose.

  She hoped, prayed, that all went well with Jack’s daughter.

  It had too, she thought. It must.

  Then:

  Until he gets back … Ray had just said.

  And Sarah had to think …

  Just when will that be?

  END

  Cherringham — A Cosy Crime Series

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