The Rattler (Rattler Trilogy Book 1)

by P. A. Fielding

  6

  “To think how one event changed their entire lives. They should’ve been living in the world of luxury – instead they joined the working classes. It’s just so sad,” Zoe remarked, getting up from the bed. “At least we know where the family came from. We’d need to do some further research, but the evidence points to it being true.”

  “Well, let’s hope so dear,” sighed Sally. Zoe began thinking that the one person to benefit from this story would be James and his family history assignment.

  7

  Later on that night, Zoe and Vana were on Zoe’s bed whilst playing on the PlayStation. They had a long chat about the family’s reaction to her relapse, but it didn’t take Zoe long to change the subject to something that was more on her mind. She couldn’t wait to tell Vana that she might be related to the Charles St Claire family. Her response was a normal one – “No effin’ way! Are you being serious?”

  The pair seemed a lot more relaxed compared to a few days ago. Things in the atmosphere had changed since the smudging. Vana glanced at the wooden cross that was hanging on the side of the dresser. “It does feel better now. And, so far, no more strange experiences.” Zoe looked a tad worried. “Don’t say that just yet.”

  “Consider my lips sealed.”

  “Let’s change the subject; how’s things with Matthew?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean don’t know?”

  “He’s got me puzzled – that’s all.”

  “Vana! Explain? Don’t leaving me hanging.”

  “Alright. I don’t know if it’s this new exercise routine, but he’s so randy of late. Half the time I’m left wondering where’s the real Matthew gone.”

  “He’s always been randy. I still don’t understand what you mean?”

  “He’s saying all kinds of weird shit during the act. I think I preferred it when we half had sex.” Zoe burst into laughter; she soon stopped when she saw Vana’s blank expression.

  “Vana don’t worry. He’s probably been taking the cheap Viagra that’s been circulating around campus.”

  “No doubt. I wouldn’t mind, but he’s being rough, really rough.”

  “Pink handcuffs?”

  “Not exactly. Anyway, I think I’ll leave it to him when I die. Only if I die young that is, he’s not going to want a saggy fanny.”

  “Vana, I can always count on you to make me laugh!”

  The friends were back to their normal selves again, and the events of the last week were slowly being erased from their memories.

  “Right that’s enough about me. What about you and Steven?”

  “We’re taking it slowly.”

  8

  Mary and Jim had the lounge to themselves; the girls were upstairs, James asleep, and Sally reading in bed. They were cuddling up together on the sofa watching television. A telephone call from Keely (a family friend back in Leeds) informed Mary of the recent deaths of Helen and Barbara, and Keely wanted to know how Zoe was holding up. The news had shocked Mary somewhat, and the fact that Zoe hadn’t mentioned it made her slightly concerned.

  “She probably doesn’t know,” said Jim, reassuring her.

  “Jim, believe me, Zoe would know, and if she wasn’t told – then Vana would be.”

  “We go away for one week and look what happens.”

  “You don’t think Barbara’s death caused her relapse?”

  “No. The fact there is a new boy on the scene probably had something to do with it,” replied Jim, channel-hopping on the TV. “Oh, I never considered Steve or Steven – whatever his name is,” added Mary.

  With the house having been smudged and seemingly at peace, Zoe back on the medication and steadily on the recovery trail – what could possibly go wrong?

  45: With a weekend away...

  1

  Zoe and Sally had since told the family of their discovery, but omitted the ghost stories. They were mostly understandably gobsmacked to learn of the news, particularly Mary.

  “And he was arrested in this house?”

  “Yes, Mum.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’re both saying a former butler, hanged for being a murderer, worked for a family we’re related to, and...?”

  “It’s far-fetched at best,” interrupted Jim.

  “Jim, be quiet a moment. And his name is too smudged; it could be Sidney Ellbottom for all we know!”

  “Yes, I know but...”

  “Zoe. Great grandma couldn’t even remember her surname. Nor could great Uncle Will. Without birth records we can’t prove any of this.”

  “I know. I’ll get on the internet, mum. There’s got to be someone who could help.”

  The revelation had got Mary wondering why she picked this house in the first place when they could have had virtually any property in Chelsea, or anywhere in London for that matter, – well, within budget. The more she dwelled on it, the spookier it became, and so she just had to try to put it to the back of her mind – it was beginning to freak her out somewhat.

  Jim was just glad that his wife now had some idea where she came from – Mary had spent most of her life wondering that. She enjoyed watching television programmes researching peoples’ family trees, and often felt sad that hers started at a workhouse in Liverpool.

  James was delighted to have been given top marks for his family tree presentation, and with a big cheesy-grin, stuck a five star golden sticker onto the fridge. As for Zoe, she couldn’t stop thinking of the discovery, and almost immediately started an internet search. To her amazement, what she discovered was that Charles St Claire was listed on an unclaimed heir-list website. Zoe soon filled out the form, with Sally adding further details, and then pressed the all important send button. They both felt that any claim would be rejected as they could not provide evidence, such as birth certificates etcetera to support it. Still, it was worth a try. The waiting began...

  2

  Zoe had been checking her email inbox during the weeks that followed, and ran to answer the house phone every time it rang. She’d become obsessed with four numbers – 1571 – the phone’s answering machine. The fact that she hadn’t even received an acknowledgement made her disheartened. She began to think it was all over, and, as the Yanks would say, closure had taken place. The girl was disappointed, not because of the riches the family had missed out on, but because of what they had lost in terms of family history. Zoe knew that any cash would have been taken by the governments over the years, so she wasn’t expecting a pot of gold. Vana, on the other hand, remained upbeat, and kept asking for updates. This was top news with her, and the fact she had experienced the findings first-hand added to the excitement of it all.

  3

  9.00 am. Friday 23rd September, and the last couple of weeks had gone by without incident, and Zoe hadn’t shown any signs of a second relapse. Mary had arrived back from dropping James off at school; he was going away to an activities weekend in Cornwall. He wasn’t the only one enjoying the weekend away; Mary and Jim were off to Manchester as Jim had a work conference. It wasn’t that Mary didn’t trust him with his female employees, she was just taking the opportunity to catch-up with some old school friends. The hallway was cluttered with small cases and bags. “I’m home, Jim! Are you ready to go?” she yelled up the stairs. “Yes, almost; I’ll be down in a minute.”

  In light of the fact that Zoe was going to be home alone again, Mary had asked Sally to stay on for a little while longer. Although, Zoe was back on track, Mary was concerned that Zoe had started to write the letter of the day on the reverse of her medication, indicating to Mary that Zoe was having problems remembering if she’d taken it. Vana would no doubt stop by, along with Steven, but Mary wanted Sally here to oversee the house.

  4

  10.00 am. Vana was her usual bubbly self, walking down the road towards Zoe’s house. She soon observed a posh, black saloon car parked up outside. As Vana approached the house, a smartly-dressed man, complete with designer stubble,
and holding a black briefcase, got out. He greeted her on the doorstep. Vana turned on her flirting face. “Hello? You here for...” she said, placing the key into the lock and opening the door, “Jim or Mary?”

  “Ms Zoe Johnson,” the man replied.

  “You’d better come in then.”

  Zoe met the pair in the hallway. “Vana, who’s your friend?”

  “Dunno. I’ve just met the guy on the doorstep,” replied Vana, dropping her rucksack on the floor and walking into the kitchen. To Zoe’s amazement, the man introduced himself as Kyle Roth, the heir hunter she had contacted recently. “I don’t believe it – you’ve actually made my day. Can I get you a coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee, white, two sugars. Thanks.”

  “Please do take a seat and I’ll get your coffee.” She then showed him into the spotlessly-clean, tidy, lounge. “Thanks,” replied Kyle, “I’ll get the documentation ready.”

  She went off into the kitchen, in a state of shock. “Who’s your hunk then?” asked Vana, enjoying a coffee with Sally at the table. “He’s the heir hunter we contacted last month,” she replied, taking a clean cup from the dishwasher.

  “Heir hunter? As in the one we’ve being waiting to hear from?”

  “Yes, Vana.”

  “He’s here?” asked Sally.

  “YEAH – in the front lounge.”

  Sally and Vana couldn’t wait a minute longer; they leapt up from the table, mugs in hand, and hurried into the lounge to meet him. Zoe was left alone to make his coffee.

  5

  With the introductions over, it was down to the business at hand. Kyle had his briefcase open on the coffee table with a pile of documents stacked next to it, on top of which was a photograph of a dim room containing wooden crates. He was explaining what he had researched regarding Charles St Claire’s estate.

  “Because you don’t have any documentation, paper evidence is still in question. People have been working on census and birth records for decades trying to link dates and possible matches – given the prize at stake.”

  “So, you’re here to say we don’t have a case because we can’t prove it?” asked Zoe.

  “That would have been the case ten, twenty, maybe even fifty years ago – but not in today’s world.”

  “This is more exciting than I first thought.”

  “Hang on Vana. So, why are you here, if we can’t prove it?”

  “Three letters – DNA.”

  “I’m completely lost now,” said Sally.

  “Ladies, please let me finish. I can confirm that you, Sally, are a DNA match – hence the reason I’m here.”

  Zoe was astonished that he’d managed to obtain such a test result. “How is that possible?” she asked, looking at her aunt. Kyle went on to explain that the government had carried out the DNA test once he had contacted them about a possible claim. The key piece of evidence the authorities had regarding the case was that Charles always started painting a new project, with a lock of his dead mother’s hair attached to the rear for luck. He did this for every new painting he started, removing it when it was finished.

  “Why would he have a lock of his mother’s hair?” asked Zoe.

  “Well...”

  “I’ve got this Kyle,” interrupted Vana. “It was part of the mourning process, Zoe. Taking locks of hair from dead relatives was popular back then. They were made into lockets, hair spun into bracelets set with gold links, or simply kept in a jewellery box.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Zoe.

  “Trust me, I’m a historian – I know these things.”

  “Spot on my lady,” added Kyle.

  “It’s a bit sick, isn’t? But, it still doesn’t explain how it survived a fire?”

  “Because, it wasn’t at Foulis Terrace – it was found at his studio shortly after his death. Lucky for you, the strands had been pulled directly from the head, and therefore contained the important DNA in the root. The lock of hair was recovered from the back of his last unfinished masterpiece, a fruit bowl. The government has since ordered a test to be done on blood samples taken from Sally’s recent knee replacement operation, and tested it against the DNA in the hair.”

  “I didn’t think they kept things like that,” asked Sally, with a look of surprise. “This is our government after all. And it’s thanks to that lock of hair that we can prove your ancestral link to the famous artist,” replied Kyle, handing her a paper showing the positive DNA result.

  There was stunned silence. Vana couldn’t wait a further minute. “How much is the estate worth?” Zoe and Sally both stared at her. “What? Why can’t I ask that?” she said, looking at the trio. Kyle smiled. “That’s why I’m here. There is good news, and not so good news...”

  “What do you mean?” interrupted Zoe. Kyle went on to explain that over the past hundred years the properties had been sold and the cash taken by the Crown. The only remains of the estate were 35 paintings which were locked away in a government underground vault, somewhere in Whitehall, together with historical relics, Jewish property from World War II, and assets seized from drug lords and criminals.

  “Well, where to start in terms of value. There’s apparently one painting missing from the collection – a painting called The Rattler.” The girls’ hearts felt as if they’d dropped to the floor; they paled visibly. “What is so special about that painting?” asked Sally, rubbing Zoe’s left hand. Kyle took a deep breath. “That particular painting is said to be priceless, but I think it has more to do with the fact that it survived two house fires, and possibly a third, rather than the subject matter.”

  The girls were starting to feel slightly sick at this point. However, they were about to feel much better. “But having said that, St Claire still has a huge following for his work, and given that, a rough valuation of between £5-10 million is placed on the paintings.”

  “Well, fuck me, and call me Sandra!”

  “VANA!” said Zoe.

  “What?”

  “Language!” replied Zoe, abruptly, “Kyle, are you sure that’s correct?”

  “Yes, his work is very desirable amongst private collectors.”

  A couple of tears ran down Sally’s face. “Oh mum,” she said, “it’s so sad you and Uncle Will had to endure a tough up-bringing when there was a hidden treasure with your names on it.” She excused herself in order to freshen up.

  Vana was engrossed with the photograph of the dim room containing crates. “Why are his paintings so highly regarded?” she asked, passing the picture to Zoe. “Well, where do I start; they’ve got a cult following – that’s probably the best way to describe it.”

  “A cult following?” Zoe frowned and glanced at Vana. “What do you mean by that?”

  “OK, here it goes. People have found his paintings sealed up behind walls, and under floorboards. It is widely reported that his paintings are haunted – that’s what attracts followers to his work. Yep, I know – farfetched, huh?”

  He didn’t tell them that three former owners of Charles’s paintings had died in strange circumstances, one in the 1940s, and two in the 1960s.

  “Who haunts his paintings?” asked Zoe. Kyle studied Zoe’s body language (she looked away from him, and started curling her hair round her fingers); he knew she was hiding something. “You’ve seen her too, haven’t you?” Vana glimpsed at Zoe, who replied, “no, just read about her.”

  Kyle was no fool and did not believe this for one moment. He’d been researching the Charles St Claire estate since he first joined the agency. It was widely regarded as the Holy Grail within the heir hunters’ circle. The man was already clued up on Sidney Ellwood, and knew that this house was his final residence. He had often wondered if Ellwood had taken The Rattler, and hidden it somewhere, but that was only one of many conspiracy theories.

  Sally returned with a glass of water and sat down again next to her niece.

  “Now, you stated in your application that you had found Mr Ellwood’s journal. Would it be possible to s
ee it?”

  “Yes, if it’s OK with you, Aunt Sally?” Sally took a sip of water. “I’ve no objections, dear. It was your find after all.” Zoe agreed and off she went to collect the relic.

  46: The art of money

  1

  She soon returned and handed the journal over to Kyle. “This is truly unbelievable. I’m getting chills by just holding it,” said Kyle, as he carefully turned the fragile pages. “I’m lost for words. It was certainly fate; you moved in, and found it – just like that.” He clicked his fingers.

  “It was just luck,” replied Zoe.

  “No. It was much more than that – you’re connected.”

  The girls’ tensions rose as Kyle slowly scanned the pages, getting closer and closer to the details regarding the hidden Rattler. Vana was fully alert to the problem, and soon interrupted him before he could read Ellwood’s secret. “Shouldn’t we get on with the business at hand?”

  “You’re right...” he said, as he grudgingly closed the book and handed it back to Zoe. “Now, with all that out in the open, the reason it took me so long to get in touch was that I’ve only just been given clearance from the relevant government department. They’ve given me authorisation to take you to see the collection. I only need to give them an hour’s notice, as you’ve all been vetted – including you, Vana.”

  “Me? How? Why?”

  “You co-found the journal. It’s routine, there’s a lot of money at stake.”

  “Vetted?” asked Sally.

  “Background checks. Nothing to worry about – M15 and all that.”