Blood Ties

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘Which implies someone might.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Mr Cole regarded him with his small, round, bright blue eyes. ‘And it seems he was right.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Mr Cole sighed. ‘In my experience death tends to bring relatives you didn’t know existed out of the woodwork. Of course, many just feel bad about not having been in touch and want to make up for the oversight by, how shall we say, celebrating with the proceeds of bereavement.’

  ‘And have such relations appeared in this case? Susan didn’t mention anything.’

  ‘No, I thought I’d wait until today, until I’d spoken to you both. Susan seems to value your advice. The person in question, claiming to be a nephew, arrived in my office last evening, just as we were about to close. He had various letters and family documents that he said proved who he was. I told him, frankly, it didn’t matter who he was, Edward Thames’s will was very forthright and very straightforward, but he didn’t seem equipped, shall we say, to accept my word for that. He gave me the name of his solicitor and I called my opposite number this morning and read the will to him. He agrees with me that the idea of challenging it is unwise, to say the least. Particularly as there has been no contact between Edward Thame and his family in the past thirty or more years.’

  ‘And this nephew, what claim does he think he has?’

  ‘Common justice, he calls it. The fact that he’s a blood relative. But he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.’

  ‘What would happen,’ Naomi asked, ‘if anything should happen to Susan?’

  ‘Ah, there speaks the suspicious mind of an ex-police officer. I am right in that assumption?’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘So, should Susan die before she formally inherits, then everything, apart from the smaller bequests, will be sold off or liquidated and the beneficiaries will be the various charities already mentioned in the will. The family, the nephew, still have no entitlement.’

  ‘This trust fund . . .?’

  ‘Was set up by Edward’s wife, Martha, née Martha Whitehead. Her family owned a chemical company that created dyes and pigments. Martha’s parents died when she was young, and the company was wound up and the proceeds put in trust for her. When she married I believe she used a portion of it to buy the house they lived in. It was in a bad state when they bought it; they renovated it and occasionally seem to have drawn small amounts from the interest. When Karen was born, Martha and Edward both made wills and the arrangement was that a portion of the trust should come to Karen on the occasion of her mother’s death or her twenty-first birthday, whichever came first. Of course, poor Martha Thame died and then Karen died shortly after. As Martha had left everything to Edward, should Karen not be able to benefit, then of course it reverted to him. The wills themselves are very straightforward. Essentially, Edward left everything to Martha and Martha did the same.’

  ‘But he worked. They didn’t live on the trust fund?’

  ‘That’s right. There was a sum paid into their account every month, which constituted part of the interest, but Edward Thame saw teaching as a vocation as much as a job of work, I believe. When Martha became ill they used money from the trust to pay for various alternative treatments, but the bulk is still intact. Eddy had additional interest paid into his bank account every month after he was no longer able to work, but he lived frugally, the house was paid for.’

  ‘How much are we talking about?’ Alec asked.

  ‘Something in the range of two million, I think. That’s a conservative estimate.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Does Susan know?’ Naomi asked.

  ‘Not the full amount, no. Frankly, I didn’t have a very full picture until yesterday and Mrs Rawlins seems to be having some trouble coming to terms with the fact that Edward left her anything at all. I am a little concerned about her reaction. And now this nephew has turned up I’m even more concerned that he may bring unwanted pressure to bear.’

  ‘Can’t you do anything?’

  ‘In theory, yes. In practice, if Mrs Rawlins felt guilty and wanted to share the wealth, as it were, it would be hers to share.’

  ‘I see,’ Alec said. ‘This nephew, does he know who she is?’

  ‘He seems to have a good idea. How, I can’t tell you, but Eddy didn’t have a wide social circle. I imagine a few questions in the right places . . .’

  They absorbed this in silence for a few moments. ‘Did Eddy ever talk about family, do you know?’

  Mr Cole shook his head. ‘As I told you, my colleague, Mr Wright, dealt with this. I don’t know what they talked about informally, only what is on record in our files. But it is significant that no family members are mentioned at any point in the will and that the will was very carefully prepared. One can only surmise that there was a rift.’

  ‘Mr Cole, did Eddy ever talk to you about his daughter’s death?’ Naomi asked. ‘We think he may have tried to look into it himself.’

  Cole hesitated. ‘I think you may be right,’ he said. ‘But I don’t really have the details. Eddy asked me to write two letters for him and I did. He then regretted the decision quite profoundly, I believe.’

  ‘Letters?’

  ‘About two years ago, he came to me and asked me to draft two letters. One was to Oliver Bates’ parents, asking questions about the night the young people died; something about a newspaper report, if I remember rightly. I think something about the possibility of another vehicle being involved. The parents assumed that Eddy must have uncovered some new evidence about the accident. They wrote to him, they phoned him, they wrote to me and called the office. Edward became very distressed and asked me to get a restraining order. He changed his phone number, returned their letters. The second was to DI Bradford, who’d been the investigating officer. I understand that he went to see DI Bradford, but I can’t tell you what passed between them.’

  ‘And did you get the restraining order on Oliver’s parents?’

  ‘No, that seemed just too harsh. I called Oliver’s family and explained that Edward’s mental health was still very fragile and that I worried about the effects they were having on him.’

  ‘His mental health?’

  ‘Edward had a serious breakdown after Karen died. He was hospitalized for a while.’

  ‘And could that be used by the nephew? Him not being of sound mind or anything?’

  ‘Oh, no, not at all. I mean, had the circumstances surrounding the writing of the will been in any doubt that way, of course, but Edward Thame was in perfect health when the will was written. It’s been updated from time to time, to take account of changes in his investments, and the bequest to Kevin Hargreaves is a relatively recent addition, but otherwise it stands as it did when he and Martha created them.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Alec interrupted. ‘You’re saying that this bequest to Susan was made before he lost Martha or Karen?’

  ‘Well, yes. Susan Rawlins, née Evans, was born in the same year as his daughter Karen. Edward, with Martha’s full knowledge and consent, made the will then.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  It was all rather disturbing and surprising. Arriving back at The Lamb, Naomi and Alec found Susan in a state of shock, the solicitor having called her shortly after they left. He had also warned her about Edward’s nephew, Mr Gavin Thame, and she was in a twitter about the possibility of him showing up.

  ‘You don’t have to have anything to do with him,’ Naomi told her. ‘The money is yours, not his. He has absolutely no claim.’

  What the solicitor didn’t appear to have mentioned, and what they refrained from saying, was the fact that Eddy had left his estate to Susan long before she was even conscious of knowing him.

  It was, Naomi thought, inevitable that the nephew should turn up at The Lamb, and equally inevitable that he should arrive at the same time as they were having dinner and were actually chatting about something other than Eddy Thame.

  Susan, seeking moral support, brought the man who introduced himself as Gavin Thame ov
er to their table. She sounded nervous, Naomi thought. Not a good sign, especially when this Gavin Thame sounded so in control.

  ‘I understand you’ve been helping Mrs Rawlins sort out my uncle’s affairs.’

  ‘In a small way,’ Alec said. ‘Her solicitors have been dealing with it all, really. I’ve just been the moral support.’

  ‘Well, thank you, I suppose, but I just wanted to say that I think we should perhaps do without too many external influences. It would be better if Mrs Rawlins and I were allowed to sort this out amicably. Alone.’

  ‘As I understand it,’ Alec said, ‘there’s nothing to sort out. Edward Thame’s wishes were very clear, very precise and not in the least open to interpretation. Apart from a few small bequests, he left the bulk of his estate to Susan Rawlins. I think it might be best if you just got used to the idea.’

  ‘You are very quick to take sides, considering you’re a complete outsider!’

  ‘There are no sides to take,’ Alec said calmly. ‘I suggest you go and speak with Mr Cole, Edward’s solicitor. I’m sure he will help to clarify the position. More wine?’ he asked Naomi.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Despite the very obvious end Alec had brought to the conversation, the man calling himself Gavin Thame continued to stand beside their table. ‘I’ve not finished with this,’ he said.

  ‘Finished with what?’ Alec asked frostily. ‘Talk to the solicitor, Mr Thame.’ Naomi heard the emphasis he put upon the name, the implied query. ‘I have nothing to say and neither does Mrs Rawlins.’

  ‘I’m going to contest the will.’

  ‘So I gathered. Goodnight, Mr Thame.’

  A drop in the level of background noise seem to alert their unwanted visitor to the fact that he was now the centre of attention. ‘You’ve not heard the last,’ he said and walked away. The noise level returned to normal as he stalked out.

  ‘Unpleasant,’ Naomi said. ‘What’s he so angry about? I’m betting it’s not the will.’

  ‘I think you’re right, the tone was all wrong. Aggrieved relatives who still hope to reach amicable agreements don’t come on quite so strong so fast, or with complete strangers.’

  Naomi poked at the food on her plate. ‘Do I have any more cauliflower?’

  ‘Here, have mine.’

  ‘Sure? Thanks. Local accent but not especially educated. Used to getting what he wants.’

  Alec laughed. ‘If he’s what he says he is, then Edward must have had a brother. So, where’s he sprung from and, well, we don’t have to ask why now, but why him and not the brother?’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘Six feet, maybe a shade under. Not heavily built, but he’s fit, I’d say. Not skinny. Short brown hair, light-brown eyes, a nose that looks like it played rugby.’

  Naomi turned her head, aware that they had once again been joined at their table. ‘Well?’ Susan asked. ‘What do I do?’

  ‘You do nothing,’ Alec said. ‘You leave it all to Mr Cole and you refuse to discuss any of it.’

  ‘But he’s a relative, a nephew. Eddy wouldn’t have cut him out of the will, surely.’

  ‘Eddy did,’ Alec reminded her. ‘And we only think he’s related because he’s telling us so.’

  ‘Mr Cole said he had letters, photographs, all sorts of stuff.’

  ‘Did he,’ Alec said heavily.

  ‘Odd how that sort of thing went missing from Eddy’s house just before this man turned up,’ Naomi added.

  ‘Oh my God, you mean . . .?’

  ‘We don’t mean anything,’ Alec stressed. ‘Just that we need to look into this properly and you mustn’t allow yourself to be pushed around by some stranger suddenly turning up and playing on some sense of moral imperative. Let your solicitor handle it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘But nothing, Susan,’ Naomi said gently. ‘Have a word with Sergeant Dean so he knows what’s going on and that you’re worried about it. Then let Mr Cole sort him out.’

  ‘Will you talk to Sergeant Dean as well? Please?’

  ‘I’ll give him a call,’ Alec promised. ‘Now, try not to let it get to you. What’s important is what Eddy wanted. If Eddy didn’t mention a nephew or a brother in his will then he must have had a very good reason. You said that no one turned up at either Martha or Karen’s funeral.’

  ‘No, no they didn’t, did they?’

  That thought seemed to calm her and she went away.

  ‘What do you think?’ Naomi asked.

  ‘Same as you, I expect.’

  ‘That he’s a phoney with a motive we don’t know yet and that he’s not going to go away?’

  ‘Ah, the voice of suspicion,’ Alec said.

  ‘Voice of experience,’ she contradicted. ‘Good job you extended your holiday.’

  ‘Is it? You know, the day job is starting to look so much more attractive.’

  TWENTY-THREE

  The following morning Alec took his troubles to Blezzard and Dean. Susan had already contacted them and Blezzard had spoken to Mr Cole.

  ‘Your feelings are?’ he asked Alec.

  ‘That he’s got nothing to do with Eddy. Not in the blood relative sense, anyway.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Well, Naomi put her finger on it, I think. He’s angry with Eddy about something, deeply angry, and it has nothing to do with being cut out of a will.’

  ‘Might be.’ Blezzard perched on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. ‘I hear there’s a great deal of money involved.’

  ‘Playing devil’s advocate?’ Alec asked. ‘Yes, it might be just what it seems to be. Arguments among family can be difficult for an outsider to understand and he might be family, might be feeling genuinely aggrieved about being separated from his uncle’s money, but there’s been no involvement, so far as we know, between Eddy and any blood relatives for years until now. No siblings, no sign even of a kissing cousin. Not at either of the funerals or when Eddy fell ill afterwards. None of the triggers you’d figure would have brought about family reconciliations seem to have been pulled. No one turned up before, and it’s a terrific coincidence that photographs and personal items should have gone missing just before this man came on the scene. Of course, he may be legitimate, but Mr Cole, the solicitor, reckons he was very chary about giving out the usual personal details, home address and such. When he finally did supply one, and Mr Cole checked, he said the woman who answered the phone seemed very odd, as though she wasn’t sure who he was talking about.’

  ‘And did this Gavin Thame say who this woman might be?’

  Alec smiled. Blezzard had already had this conversation with Cole; the solicitor had told him that. Blezzard, Alec thought, just wanted to know if Alec had any additional details. ‘He said he was lodging with her,’ Alec said.

  ‘Hmm, pity we don’t have a picture of this Gavin Thame,’ Dean said speculatively. ‘We might be able to get the locals to wave it around a bit and see if anyone recognizes him.’

  ‘Ah,’ Alec said. ‘Well, the quality isn’t brilliant, but . . . Do you have a Wi-Fi link?’ He produced his mobile phone and scrolled through the images, showed it to Blezzard. ‘I took it last night, when he was in The Lamb.’

  ‘Enterprising of you. Sergeant Dean, find the man a computer, will you? Let’s see if this Gavin Thame really is who he says he is.’ Blezzard pushed off from the desk and started to leave.

  ‘Before you go,’ Alec said. ‘Kevin Hargreaves?’

  ‘Isn’t completely off the hook.’

  ‘Right. The other thing is, Karen Thame’s accident. Do you know who the lead officer might have been?’

  ‘It was twenty years ago,’ Blezzard said.

  ‘But it’ll still be on file.’

  ‘He’ll be retired.’

  ‘Even so.’

  Blezzard sighed. ‘Dean, get him what he wants,’ he said and Alec knew that curiosity, if nothing else, was getting the better of Inspector Blezzard. Occupational hazard, Alec thought, and h
e should know. After all, that was what had got him into this.

  Brian was not impressed by Gavin’s performance so far. Sure, he’d been interested, more than interested, when Gavin had approached him outside of Susan’s flat and put his proposal, but it was clear now that Gavin was lacking in the subtlety department.

  ‘You can’t go in all guns blazing,’ he said. ‘That just puts her back up. She’s a stubborn woman, is my ex.’

  ‘That why she’s an ex, is it?’

  Brian grimaced. He shook his head. ‘My fault,’ he said. ‘I got cocky, didn’t bother to hide the latest blonde. She took umbrage then took a hike, and next thing I know she’s trying to take half the house.’

  Gavin glanced around at the rather pleasant house that Susan very clearly hadn’t obtained her half of. ‘Looks like you won that one,’ he said.

  ‘I did and I didn’t. She got the money, I got a restraining order. Eddy paid her my share.’ He shook his head. ‘I didn’t realize the old man had money until then, but he said he’d pay me off if I promised never to go anywhere near Susan again. Not to call her and not to let her know where the money came from. I told her I’d cashed in some insurance policies my dad had left me.’

  ‘You went along with it? She believed you? Why didn’t you try it on with the old man? Tell him you wanted more if he wanted you to stay away?’

  ‘Because, my friend, our Eddy was a brighter old sod than you give him credit for. He tied it all up tight, got his solicitor to draw up this paper I had to sign. I had to give Eddy a fifty per cent share of the house, didn’t I? The same as that bitch would have had if I’d had to sell.’

  ‘So, why’d he do it? What is she to him?’

  Brian shrugged. ‘I don’t know. All I know is I didn’t have to sell, didn’t have to give her anything so long as I signed this bit of paper. I got a good deal,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘She could have got Cole involved and dragged it through the courts and she would have bankrupted me if that had happened. The way I saw it at the time was that he’d given me a get-out clause.’

  ‘So, where did you think he got the money from?’