The Ardmore Inheritance

by Rob Wyllie

  The rush-hour train was packed to the rafters, meaning that he and about two hundred other poor sods had to stand all the way, only the fact that he wasn't paying five grand a year for the privilege offering any consolation. The Priests semi-detached home was on a quiet estate, the architecture betraying its ex-council history, although the well-maintained appearance of both theirs and the neighbouring properties suggested they had long since passed into private ownership. He double-checked the address then jogged up the slabbed path to their door. He was just about to ring the bell when he noticed them, strung out along the inner window-sill of what he guessed was the living room. A row of greeting cards, maybe for someone's birthday or perhaps it was the Priests' wedding anniversary. But seared in his mind was a memory of an occasion back in his army days when he'd paid a sympathy visit to the parents of one of his men killed in action. The same row of cards, the same messages. Deepest sympathies. Our thoughts are with you. We are so sorry for your loss.

  He rang the bell and a few seconds later the door opened. John Priest was short but powerfully-built, shaven-headed and wearing jeans and a black singlet that displayed the faded tattoos that decorated each arm from wrist to shoulder. To Jimmy, everything about him shouted ex-navy. An aging Popeye the Sailor-Man in the flesh, here in Winchester, more than fifty miles from the sea. He wondered if Susan Priest might look like Olive Oyl. But then the obvious struck him. All these cards, and John Priest standing here in front of him. It must have been Mrs Priest who had died. This could be difficult.

  'Yeah, what do you want?' Priest said brusquely, a suspicious look on his face.

  'Petty Officer Priest? I'm Captain Jimmy Stewart, ex-bomb squad.' There was a mutual respect between military personnel that survived long beyond their service days, and it was something worth using whenever you could. He saw Priest's expression soften into a mildly inquisitive look.

  'I work for a firm of private investigators now...' Before he could say any more, the other man interrupted him.

  'So how'd you find out about it?'

  Jimmy gave a puzzled look. 'Sorry, I'm not with you.'

  'My Susan's accident. The hit and run, at least that's what the police are calling it. How'd you find out?'

  'Hit and run? I'm so sorry Mr Priest, I really didn't know anything about that.'

  'So if you're not here to offer your services, what do you want then?' The brusque manner had returned, and he held on tightly to the door, as if uncertain whether he should let this stranger come in.

  'I'd come to ask your wife about her time when she was nanny to the Macallan children,' Jimmy said, 'but look, I can see this probably isn't a good time...'

  'Bloody hell, not you too.' Priest spat the words out. 'I'm bloody sick of hearing that name.'

  'Look, I'm sorry,' Jimmy said again, 'but maybe if I could just come in for five minutes? I know how you must be feeling, and if it helps to talk about it, well you know...' He hoped Priest would recognise his genuine sincerity. Because he did know how it felt to lose someone. He'd known too many of them, good blokes and brave women, taken away much too early by a savage war they had no business being involved in, and every one of them leaving an indelible mark on his life.

  Priest thought about it for a moment before acceding.

  'Yeah all right.' He led Jimmy through to a neatly-furnished living room, one wall dominated by a long black leather sofa.

  'Take a pew,' Priest said, picking up the remote and muting the television.

  'You were at Ardmore base weren't you John?' Jimmy asked, making conversation.

  'Yeah I was. Did a couple of years on the subs but then my ears went all up the creek with the air pressure and all that, so they gave me the stores job. That's when I met my Susan. Do you know the place yourself mate?'

  Jimmy nodded. 'Aye, a bit. My ex-wife was brought up in Lochmorehead.' It hurt him just to say the words. My ex-wife. But then she wasn't his ex-wife, not yet. Not in his mind at least.

  'So my Susan would have known her then?'

  'Aye, I expect she would have. Flora McLeod she was then. She was friends with the twins when they were kids. But look, that's not important right now.' Lowering his voice he continued, 'Are you able to talk about what happened John? Only if it helps.'

  Priest nodded, his expression bereft of emotion. 'It was just two weeks ago. There's a row of shops just round the corner and I'd sent her up there to get me some ciggies.'

  Jimmy noted the casual misogyny, causing him to wonder what sort of life Susan Priest had had since leaving Scotland. Pretty shit was his assumption.

  'Nobody really saw nothing, but that's what they're like round there, they ain't going to say nothing to no coppers. I've asked a few questions myself and all I know is it was one of them little hatchbacks, black or dark blue I think, like a Golf or a Focus or something. Came screaming round the corner and mounted the pavement in front of the shops. Killed instantly she was, and now I don't know what I'm going to do without her.'

  'I'm so sorry for your loss,' Jimmy said, reflecting not for the first time how inadequate these six words were.

  Priest shrugged. 'Yeah, well it's happened and we just have to get on with it don't we?' It sounded cold, but Jimmy recognised it for the coping mechanism it was. 'But you say you're a private eye? So can you help me find the toe-rags what done this?'

  'It's not really our line of work John,' Jimmy said, shaking his head, 'but we do have some police contacts so I can ask if they could take a look if you like.' He wasn't sure if this one was too current to fall within the remit of Frank's cold-case-focussed Department 12B, but there would be no harm in asking.

  'Yeah that would be good,' Priest replied. 'That would be good.'

  They fell into a silence which for several seconds Jimmy didn't feel as if he should break. But finally he said, 'Would it be ok if we talked about the Macallans for a moment? You see, I'm working for the executors of their father's estate, that's why I'm here. Your late wife was the twins' nanny from just after they were born right up until they were four or five. Until Commodore Macallan re-married I believe?'

  'Yeah, that's right. That's why she was being bothered by all this business, ain't it?'

  'What do you mean, all this business?'

  Priest gave a knowing smile. 'Well, it was all kicking off wasn't it? She'd read about that dispute between the twins in the paper, that's what I thinks. Tried to hide it from me of course, what she was doing and all that, but I found out. My Susan couldn't hide nothing from me, know what I mean?'

  I know what you mean all right, Jimmy thought, recognising a bully when he saw one. And at that moment, he began to form a picture in his mind of what might have happened. Susan Priest's testimony could be crucial in establishing which of the twins was the elder, a testimony that could be worth millions for the parties involved. Maybe Mrs Priest saw her chance, to make a bit of money that would enable her escape from her sterile life and her controlling husband. And maybe someone didn't like the way that was going and decided she'd be better off dead.

  'So was Susan approached by one of the Macallan twins do you think?' Jimmy asked.

  'Nah', he shrugged. 'It was her approached one of them, that's what I think happened. After reading it in the paper, like I said. You see, my Susan obviously knew the truth, didn't she? She'd looked after them since they was babies, so she was bound to, wasn't she? And then of course the bloody stepmother turned up.'

  'Alison Macallan came here?' Jimmy couldn't hide his surprise.

  'Yeah she did. Bold as brass. Said she wanted to catch up on old times but I knew that was a load of bollocks. I mean, who drives six hundred miles just to do that, especially in a rackety old motor like hers? So after she left, I asked Susan what it was all about and she told me Alison wanted to know if Susan had spoke to anyone about the situation. And that's when it all came out that my bloody wife had been talking to one of them twins behind my back. That disappointed me, I don't mind telling you, the stupid cow.'


  So it hadn't taken long for the mask to slip. Never speak ill of the dead. Obviously Priest had never heard the maxim before, or of he had, he had no time for it.

  'So which one was she in contact with?' Jimmy asked. 'Elspeth or Kirsty?'

  'Elspeth, Kirsty, how the hell should I know?' he sneered. 'They're twins, ain't they? And would you believe she wouldn't tell me, the selfish cow?'

  No, she wouldn't, Jimmy thought. If a Macallan was prepared to pay handsomely to buy the support of the nanny who had cared for the twins since birth, and that providing that service would pay for her ticket out of her miserable existence, a despised husband would be the last person she would tell.

  But now he surmised there wasn't much more he could accomplish here. Smiling, he got to his feet and said, 'It's been very helpful John, and once again, I'm sorry for your loss. As I said, I'll have a word with my contact in the Met and see if there's anything more can be done about the hit and run. And if you think of anything else, I'll leave you a card with my number.'

  Suddenly Priest said, 'Well as a matter of fact, there was something else. Just before my Susan was killed, some scumbag called me out of the blue, and asked me if we knew anything about the will and who was the oldest girl and all that. Said he could make it worth my while. But then I asked him how much and he said that would depend on the quality of the information we had. I didn't like his tone, so I told him to sling his hook.'

  'So who was this guy, did he say?' Jimmy asked, already suspecting the answer would be no.

  'Nah. He just said he was ex-Navy like me, but a bit after my time. He'd been on the subs too, according to him.'

  'But no name?'

  Priest shrugged again. 'Nope, never said nothing. But there was one thing.'

  'What?' Jimmy said, narrowing his eyes.

  'The guy was a Geordie, no doubt about it. Accent as thick as a brick.'

  ◆◆◆

  The return journey gave Jimmy plenty of time to reflect on the interesting developments of the last half-hour. Independently, it seemed that at least two of the parties in the Macallan affair had realised the value of having Susan Priest on their side, and he wondered if she, displaying the canniness that was the hallmark of the Scottish stereotype, had played one off against the other, anxious to secure a life-changing financial settlement for herself. And what of the mysterious man from Newcastle who'd appeared from nowhere offering to do a deal? How did he fit in to the picture? And of course, there was the biggest question of all to be addressed. Was the hit and run death of Mrs Susan Priest really an accident? Thank goodness tomorrow night was pub night, when there would be a chance to run it all past Frank to see what he made of it.

  But for now it was clear they were going to have to put some awkward questions to all of the Macallan women. Maggie was scheduled to visit Kirsty and Rory Overton again, so that was covered, and she would also probably be willing to tackle Alison Macallan too. Which just left Elspeth, and one more compelling reason why he really needed to take up that dinner offer with her.

  With some reluctance he slipped his phone from his pocket and dialled her number. From her voice, he could tell she was very pleased to hear from him.

  Chapter 18

  He found three high stools alongside the narrow shelf that ran three-quarters of the way around the bar-room, not the most comfortable accommodation but all that was available. Normally the three of them liked to keep the conversation light on their Thursday evening get-togethers, but this evening there was a lot to catch up on case-wise, and for Frank, work had always come first. All work and no play makes Frank a dull boy. That old cliché could have been invented for him. It wasn't as if he was unhappy, although his life outside of work was, he had to face it, non-existent, if you didn't count the Friday night takeaway curry and on-demand movie that was the highlight of his weekend. But there was an emptiness that he was beginning to feel more and more, a feeling that was escalating pretty much in parallel with his stupid day-dreams of a life with Maggie Bainbridge. And here it was, another Thursday night. Or more accurately, another would-he-or-wouldn't-he-ask-her-out Thursday night.

  As usual he'd got there first, at five-twenty on the dot which was ten minutes ahead of the scheduled start time, and as usual he'd equipped himself with a pint of Doom Bar, which as usual, he had more or less drained by the time Maggie and Jimmy arrived.

  'Good to see you guys,' he boomed over the background hubbub of conversation. He shook his glass in Jimmy's direction.

  'Aye I know, it's my round,' Jimmy said with a brief nod of the head. 'As usual.'

  Maggie peeled off her coat and clambered up onto a stool.

  'Good to see you again Frank. Been busy I guess?'

  'Well you know,' he smiled. 'Lots going on but all early days.'

  'Same with us. Except there's been some big news on the Macallan inheritance. Maybe I should let Jimmy tell you when he gets back.'

  'And on that subject,' Frank said, lowering his voice, 'did he try and see Flora when he was up there? He's keeping it to himself if he did. He hasn't said a word to me.'

  She shook her head. 'No, she was away, but to be honest I think he was glad. Between you and me, I think he would have bottled it if she had been around.'

  Frank allowed himself a wry smile. He knew all about bottling it, but maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different. For a second it crossed his mind to ask her right now, whilst his brother was at the bar, but then thought better of it. Wait until he'd had another pint or two, ramp up the Dutch courage a notch and then go for it. That was the plan, if you could call it that.

  Jimmy arrived back with the drinks and carefully laid them out on the shelf.

  'Cheers guys,' he said, picking up his pint, 'and here's to success.'

  'Aye, here's hoping,' Frank smiled. 'So this Macallan inheritance business. Tell me all.'

  Jimmy nodded. 'Well let's just say it's all got a bit more serious. There's been another death, and there's every chance it's murder. That's just my opinion of course and right now it's not shared by the local cops.'

  'What?' Frank said, sounding surprised. 'So who's been killed?'

  'Susan Priest, the twins' old nanny. It was a hit and run and the Hampshire police seem to be treating it as a dangerous driving case, rather than a deliberate act. But get this. Before she died, Mrs Priest had been in touch with one of the twins. And not only that, the stepmother had paid her a visit too.'

  'And now she's dead,' Frank said. 'That's quite a development.'

  'Aye that's what we thought,' Jimmy said, 'so we wondered if you might be able to take a look at it?'

  Frank furrowed his brow. 'Well, it's not really my jurisdiction, but maybe I can get Ronnie French to give the Hampshire boys a call, let them into a bit of the background.'

  'That would be a great help,' Maggie said, smiling. 'The trouble is, I feel we've gone backwards with the case if anything. I'm going to have one last go at Kirsty and her caveman husband and see if they know anything. And obviously, I'm still trying to persuade them to accept a deal, although I don't hold out much hope. Then Jimmy's going to try and smooth-talk Elspeth Macallan into accepting a settlement too. Otherwise it will have to be sorted out in front of a magistrate.'

  Frank laughed. 'Smooth-talk did you say? Well that's not going to work is it? Because I've never heard smooth-talking and my brother being mentioned in the same sentence before.'

  Jimmy didn't seem unduly upset by the barb. 'Fair point bruv, but when you're working for a boss like mine, you do what you're told. It's worse than being in the army.'

  'I can't see how it'll be that horrible,' Frank grinned. 'From what I've seen, Elspeth's a good-looking girl and she's probably rich enough to pick up the tab too.'

  'Well why don't you do it then and I'll sort out your Ardmore murders. Fair swap?'

  'Boys boys, stop your squabbling please,' Maggie said, laughing. 'I'm sure Jimmy will have a lovely time and his boyish good looks and charm will soon get to the truth.'
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br />   'Aye, that's right Maggie,' Jimmy said, nodding at his brother. 'It's just a pity it doesn't run in the family. But anyway, it's too late mate. I've already made a date, it's all arranged. I've to pick her up at her place on Saturday and then we're going to some fancy restaurant just up the road.'

  Frank shrugged. 'Aye, well that's all good. But I should say, it's way over-rated, that boyish good looks and charm stuff, so it is. That's what I've found at least.'

  But deep down, he wished nature had equipped him with at least a small dollop of either. Because one or the other might be useful for what he was planning later that evening. If he didn't bottle it, that was. He looked down at his glass and saw it was still three-quarters full. Ten seconds later, it wasn't.

  'Another drink folks?' he said. Just as he was about to set off for the bar, Maggie said,

  'Jimmy, what about that other thing? You know, the guy who called up the Priests offering to cut them in on some sort of deal.'

  'Oh aye, the Geordie guy do you mean?'

  And as he said it, there occurred what could only be described as a simultaneous light-bulb moment. Geordie. Of course.

  'Bloody hell, you don't think they're connected do you?' Jimmy said, addressing his brother. 'Your hacker and this bloke who called the Priests?'

  Frank gave a dismissive smile. 'What, with about half a million Newcastle lads to pick from and this one random guy happens to be our man? Doesn't seem likely, does it? But what you have done has given me another clue in the search for him. Because to be honest, and I'm embarrassed to say this, I hadn't considered that Geordie the hacker might be an actual Geordie, if you get my drift. Something to mention to wee Eleanor I think. So cheers for that. And on that note...'

  He rolled off towards the bar without waiting for a reaction. For once, there wasn't a queue and his rolled-up twenty-pound note succeeded in catching the attention of a sullen-faced barmaid.