by Nita Round
ALONE, MAGGIE RAISED tentative fingers to her cheek, the imprint of Emma’s lips still burned against her skin. Her stomach flipped so hard she whimpered. This was not the right time to find herself getting close to anyone, never mind a Tapper, but she couldn’t help herself.
The first drop of cold water landed in the middle of her forehead. The second landed on the bridge of her nose. She turned to look at the clock on her bedside and the third drop landed below her ear. The clock, a two-bell ringer older than she was, read a quarter after twelve. Maggie closed her eyes, and waited.
The temperature dropped, and when she peered through half lidded yes, her breath shot out in small cones of steam. She was glad she used a duvet and several blankets at night, but then she was used to these nocturnal visits.
“Come on then,” she breathed. Nothing and no one was going to upset her now. It had been too perfect for anyone to upset.
“Do you...Do you...”
Chapter Nine
CHARLES DURRANT WOKE in his usual hotel room and stretched. A quiet knock at the door caught his attention. “Enter,” he managed and a young man in hotel livery unlocked the door and slipped into the room.
“Breakfast sir,” he said as he placed a tray on the small table in the corner, and Charles was gratified to note how the young man moved without making any noise. He handled the tray like a professional. There was no irritating chinking of chinaware or cutlery. Perfect.
“Thank you,” Charles answered. He contemplated a tip, but the young man left before he could locate his wallet. The door closed with a gentle sigh and locked with a soft ker-thunk.
“Charles,” a sleep-filled voiced mumbled beside him.
“Time to get up,” he answered as he swung his legs over the side. “Shower if you like whilst I have my breakfast.”
“Any for me?” she asked. “I could do with a coffee.”
“I didn’t order you anything.” He wrapped his dressing gown around his body. “Don’t dawdle. I have a busy day.” Then he poured himself a cup of coffee, settled behind his morning paper, and in spite of any noises she made, Charles had already forgotten she existed.
“Will I see you later, hun?” she asked and paused at the door.
Charles scowled at such familiarity. “I’ll call you,” he answered, but his tone of voice was quite brusque, even for Charles. He didn’t care much. “Bye bye.” Then he settled back into the familiar comforts of his paper, and his attention didn’t waver from the printed pages, except when he needed to refill his coffee cup. Now and then his mind wandered from the stark misery of the news, and his thoughts drifted toward the pleasurable contemplation of the day ahead. A knock at the door drew his daydreams to a halt. He checked his watch. He didn’t yet expect the maid service, and Charles, annoyed he had been disturbed, controlled his temper with great effort.
Outside the room, a man slouched against the corridor wall. With both hands shoved deep into his pockets, he looked at odds with the fine surroundings of this hotel. Greasy lank hair covered his face and eyes, but the man looked familiar nonetheless. Charles scowled. “Yes?” He searched for the man’s name, but none came to him.
The man inclined his head. “It’s me, my lord. Weasel. As in Catweasel. Come for me money.”
“Good God man, do you not understand English! I said not here. Never here, no matter what.”
“It’s important.”
“And how the hell did you get by the security?”
“The fire escape,” Weasel grinned, and it was not a pretty sight. “Folk leave windows open all over the place you know.”
Charles checked no one was looking and then waved the man in. “Very well, come in, seeing as I don’t have much choice.”
Sly eyes peered around the whole room. “Nice,” Weasel said and he sniffed.
“Don’t even think about stealing anything.”
“No. I won’t. Nowt here worth anything.” Slouched over, his head seemed to protrude from his chest rather than off his neck, but Weasel still managed a shrug.
Charles wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”
Weasel gripped his wrinkled shirt below the collar and sniffed himself. “Dunno, slept with the dog in the back of the car the last few nights. Maybe it’s the dog you smell.”
“Well make it fast then, you stink to high heaven. They’ll need to fumigate the room.”
“So I have to be here ‘cause the boss, you know the boss, Mister Orsen, the one from the Broadway Casino? The same one you owe all of that money to? He wants his money now, and he don’t like waiting none. He says he’s waited long enough already.”
Charles pulled himself upright. “Everyone will get paid once I am Lord of Magwood Hall and Castlecoombe proper. You know this, I have explained it many times, and how many more times do I have to repeat myself to you?” Charles walked to the hotel window and stared outside. “This situation will not change if my sister is around. To inherit what is mine, she must no longer be an issue, and of course she wouldn’t be an issue if someone did what they were paid to do.”
“I ain’t been paid.”
“I’m not paying a fool who can’t keep his end of the deal.”
“Not my fault. Not my fault.”
“Yes, you snivelling little slime ball. It is. You promised.”
“I fixed her car, the Land Rover, twice now.”
“And she’s still walking.”
“I don’t know why you’re in such a rush. Last week you said she was gonna die soon anyway. Why don’t you wait until then? It would be safer.”
“Yes. She will die of the family curse,” he snorted. “They always die.”
Weasel shook his head. “So what’s the rush?”
“Because it’s mine, and I want it now. I’m not about to rely on some ancient mumbo jumbo for my money. She could live a year longer, and I don’t want to wait.” He smiled with eyes like a glacier. “I will give you twenty-four hours to remedy this pitiful situation. Don’t worry about your money. You will get it when the job is done and not a second before.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, if you do it before morning I’ll give you a bonus.”
Weasel’s eyes narrowed. “A bonus you say? How much of a bonus would you be willing to pay?”
“I don’t know.” Charles scratched his chin in thought. “You know the house is empty all day. You could go up there and help yourself to whatever takes your fancy in the main hall. There is a collection of antique snuff boxes in a cabinet. Must be worth a small fortune I should say. Perhaps silver platters take your fancy, so take a look in the dining room.”
Weasel’s eyes lit up.
“You could find yourself a nice spot and come evening you could deal with her as you see fit. She goes to bed early so do with her what you will. A good man like you should sort her out I’m sure. Then deal with her.”
Weasel’s eyes almost popped out of his head and he grinned. It wasn’t a pretty sight. “I can do whatever I like?”
“Yes. Telephone the police after you leave so they can be the ones to find her. I need to have an alibi in town. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Weasel shrugged.
“Now until then, get the hell out of my sight.”
Alone, Charles stared at the door. The smell of Weasel hung about, but he’d smelled worse on the farm. He had a pang of guilt, at the thought of the farm, and the fact that he was arranging unpleasant things for his sister. Then he shook it off. She had his money and so it was her fault really. His mood lifted and his guilt ended. Charles drained his cup of coffee. It was cold, but he didn’t care. “This is going to be marvellous day. I can feel it in my bones.” Then he laughed, everything was coming together. He knew it. His sister would no longer be a problem, and no matter what the Weasel stole, it would be traceable. The fool didn’t understand anything about antiques so he wouldn’t know how to get rid of the stolen items without being caught. Even the police would be able to determine the thief had to be the murderer.<
br />
He stood up with a smile on his face. When things were looking this good then he deserved to get himself a new suit. His luck was changing, and when luck changed, a clever man made the most of it.
Chapter Ten
EMMA LEFT THE hall early in the morning, and drove down to Maud’s house. In daylight, with the sun out and any sign of the storm long gone, the house looked better than it had the previous night. It still looked dark and unappealing, but it was dark with a sense of sadness rather than menace, and the dancing, light-sucking shadows were nowhere to be seen. Constructed from local stone, the dark grey blocks looked dour and miserable even though the bright sunny sky made the world smile. The small front garden, overgrown with nettles, thistles and other weeds, completed the look of abandonment. A climbing rose surrounded the door, but it had grown thin and diseased from lack of care. It would look nice after pruning, and with a little effort she could turn it all into something bright and appealing.
Thus encouraged, Emma took a deep breath of the clear air, and with each breath, it seemed as though she expelled the last remains of city pollution from her lungs. “Careful,” she said to the door, “at this rate you might want to stay.”
She turned to look at the houses nearby. She watched curtains twitch in a few, but no one came near. The whole village looked abandoned. Even in daylight it was a quiet place, with few people on the streets. They were all too far away to hear her talk to herself. When she looked a little closer, she realised there was more to Castlecoombe than a few houses nestled around a small, but well-tended green.
The tree at the heart of this small common ground still looked as gnarled and deformed as it had first appeared, but as she stared through the twisted branches she caught sight of other roads. She had missed them in the dark, but now she could see narrow streets hidden behind buildings. From her doorstep, roof after roof stretched out farther than she had imagined. The Gatehouse still looked magnificent, and set half way up the mountainside, Magwood Hall, more castle than hall, overlooked valley and town with an air of desolation. Tall towers with witch hat roofs, crenelated walls and most noticeable of all, a single tower seemed to protrude from the north wall over the valley itself. It looked almost crooked. Emma smiled at the sight.
“Maggie Durrant,” Emma said. “I’d date you just to get inside your castle.” Then she laughed as she thought about an evening spent in front of a roaring fire drinking wine and talking late into the night. “Problem is, I’d date you if you were poor, untitled, and lived in the house next door.”
With greater enthusiasm than the first time Emma had stood on the threshold, she unlocked the door and entered the house. It was still dark inside, but when she flicked the light switch a single bulb lit the hall with a pale yellow glow. “Hot damn. We have lift off.” She stepped over the mail, closed the door, and looked about the downstairs area with a critical eye.
There was such a lot to do. Emma almost didn’t know where to start, so she settled in the kitchen as her centre of operations. She got a notepad and pen from her handbag, and then went from room to room to see what she might need. She was gratified to find a vacuum cleaner, brushes, a mop and a bucket in a small cupboard under the stairs. Maud used the cupboard as a pantry, and she’d stocked quite a lot of things into such a small area. Equipped with the cleaning materials she thought to put into her car, along with those Maud provided, Emma had plenty of equipment to get started, and maybe, enough to get the whole job done.
A lack of central heating was not the only feature of modern living Emma found missing. There was no television, and the radio, not attuned to digital broadcasts, produced an abundancy of static, but nothing else. The furniture was old, but not all of it antique, and when she patted the sofa, she wiped her hand down her jeans to remove the damp grit clinging to her skin. “Did Maud never clean?” she wondered. She was being unfair, and she knew it. Maggie already told her ole Maud Tapper spent some while in a nursing home, and the chances were she was not capable of doing much when she was home. Poor Maud had been alone, and with no one about to help, both she and the house had suffered. She wondered whether this house showed her what life alone would look like in her future. Was this all she had to look forward to? It was not an appealing thought.
Loneliness might well figure in her future, as it had Maud’s later years, but this was not an empty house. Despite the lack of modern comforts Emma expected, this was a home and not a house. There were pictures and paintings of people everywhere, a whole history spread out on the walls. Her entire lineage, a genealogist dream, laid out for all to see. Sadness washed over her in drowning waves, until she shook her head. “You’re all my family,” she said with determination, “and I will know you all.”
Upstairs the rooms were in a time-distressed state, but Emma was no longer judgemental. “Poor Maud,” she said to the walls. “I wish I had known you. I would have come, and you would not have been alone.” A whisper, or an echo, rushed from room to room and Emma smiled. The house agreed with her. It was the right thing to say.
DRESSED IN OLD clothes, Emma knew she did not look her best. A pair of old jogging bottoms, all saggy and misshapen, did not make her ass look good. An oversized tee shirt with assorted stains and bleach marks made her appear frumpy and shapeless. She completed the look with Maud’s bright floral pinafore apron. She didn’t know how old it was, but knowing how trends went, this particular design was sure to have been retro at least twice already. It was a substantial item of wear, and it wrapped around her body and covered her from neck to knee in great grandmother fashion. She scrutinised herself in the mirror as she re-tied her hair back with an old cloth. The startled scarecrow look, with dirt smudges across her cheek, seemed about complete. Emma didn’t care, and when she heard a knock, she dismissed it as a neighbour come to be nosey. She opened the door anyway.
“Hello,” Maggie said as she held a brown bag in the air. “I come bearing gifts of sustenance.”
“You’re a treasure. Come in.”
“You look great.”
“Don’t be a smart arse Maggie, I look like crap.”
“Yeah, but you look great in a sexy house-wifey kind of way.”
Emma stopped what she was doing. “Did you call me sexy?”
“How’s it going?” Maggie changed the subject as she unloaded cheese, a couple of baguettes, a tub of coleslaw, salad, and two cups of coffee.
“Good. There’s no heating, but there is so much to do I don’t have time to get cold. I would freeze if I had to sit down and do nothing.”
“We’ll get the heating sorted out for you soon.”
“It is so weird being here though.”
“How so?”
“Everything is very dated and old fashioned, more like a 1950’s museum rather than a home for me, and worse, sometimes I feel like I’m trespassing. Then sometimes it feels kinda snug.”
“Well you can’t trespass in your own house. It’s strange and new, perhaps it’ll be better when you have your own things here.
You know some collectors would love some of these period items. There is an auction house in Moorville. It’s a big town, and you must have driven through it on the way here. I am sure they would be able to sort you out with a good price for things.”
“What a good idea. Thanks for that.”
“I also have a number for the fuel company, but I don’t think they will come and fill your tank for a few days. They are not fast at the best of times, but with winter around the corner best do it now rather than wait.”
“Fantastic. Maggie, you’re so helpful. How could I ever repay you?”
Maggie looked bashful for a moment. “Have dinner with me tonight?” She looked into Emma’s face. “Say yes.”
“Well...”
“This place isn’t ready for you, so stay the night at the Hall. I would love your company again. I had such a fabulous time last night I can’t miss the opportunity to repeat it.”
“And do you want to repeat it?�
�
Maggie laughed. “I do.”
Emma didn’t have to think long. “I would be honoured. Can I bring anything? Do anything?”
“No, it’s fine, but now I’m here you could show me around the house. I’d love to know what the Tapper museum looks like when the lighting is good.”
Emma laughed. “You know it’s filthy. I touched the sofa and it felt like grit stuck to my hand.” “Your aunt was in a nursing home for a long time, and no one has been here since.” “So much for community spirit,” Emma observed. “I’ve seen curtains twitching so people must have known she needed help.” “Unfair. We are all simple folk here. Private. We don’t interfere.”
“But they do like to watch.”
“They’re keeping an eye out.”
“You know it is going to take me ages to clean this place up and make it ready to sell,” Emma responded and wiped her finger over several surfaces.
“You’ve decided to leave?”
“Yes, why would I want to stay here when my place is in the city? I work there and the house will give me enough money to make home ownership less painful there.”
“Of course.” Maggie said with a hint of disappointment. “It would be cheaper to live here though.”
“Yes it would, but there’s no work.”
“I see.”
“When I say I’m going to sell I’m not being honest with you or myself. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I think my intention was to come and get the house in order and sell it, and now I am not so sure. We will see how we fare.”
“She had a lot of memories here, your aunt, and the family has lived here for generations.”
“Yes, I know, and it is fascinating to be able to look back so far.”
“Are you not intrigued by these people?”
“Yes, I am, very much. When I set out to see this house I wanted to know them, to know who they were, and I admit I was quite desperate for any titbit about them. Yet there is a part of me saying I have been alone all this time, seeking them out isn’t going to change anything. They’re gone.”