A Grave Inheritance (8 page)

Feeling cold, Grace began to rub her arms and went to close the window. Automatically she ran her hand over the top of the radiator, knowing full well the central heating wasn’t switched on, but she willed it to be warm nevertheless. Shivering slightly she turned her attention to the garden below and looked out of the window. Her main concern was the spreading hawthorn bushes and hazel tree seedlings which had taken root. Grace was glad the group of trees in the garden was far enough away from the house and didn’t block out the light. She was visualising a table and chairs underneath the canopy of branches when she heard a soft sound behind her. Thinking that Amelia had sneaked in for a quick look, Grace turned to face her. There was no one else in the room.

‘Amelia!’ Grace called out.

‘I’m in the kitchen,’ Amelia replied from downstairs.

The sound came again, as though something brushed against the wooden floor, and whirls of dust, like smoke, rose up around her. Shivering, and not wanting to be alone, Grace called down to Amelia again. ‘Come up and take a look at your new office.’ After a few minutes Grace could her hear her sister’s footsteps on the stairs.

‘You’ve made a fantastic job, it looks lovely,’ Amelia praised, glancing around and admiring Grace’s work, and then she went back downstairs to the kitchen to finish off her jobs.

Feeling spooked, Grace hugged herself. The odd episode played on her mind and however she tried to make sense of it, she couldn’t.

Chapter 11

Leonie Lanceley let the telephone ring eight times before she replaced the receiver. She flicked through her address book looking for Tapscott Manor’s number, and then punched the buttons on the handset. Roughly pulling her fingers through her auburn curls, she waited for it to be picked up at the other end. Just as she was about to replace the receiver yet again, she heard the familiar greeting.

‘Tapscott Manor Nursing Home, Vicky Morris speaking, how may I help you?’

‘Leonie Lanceley here, has my brother been in today?’ Leonie snapped.

‘Hello Leonie. I’m not sure, sorry,’ the receptionist answered, a little flustered. ‘I’ve just come back from lunch.’

‘Put me through to Lynne Sykes then.’ Leonie wanted to add, “And quickly”, but held back. ‘God, people think I have all the time in the world just to sit and pass the time of day,’ fuming she click-clacked her long fingernails on the desk and waited to be connected to the nurse’s office, growing more impatient with each second.

‘Nurse Sykes here, Leonie. What’s up?’

Leonie ignored the question and came straight to the point. ‘David! Is he with my aunt?’

‘Yes, he stopped by to have lunch with her. Sophia has been feeling a bit off colour for the last few days. Nothing serious, but at her age, well, you never know. She would be overjoyed if you came to see her.’ Nurse Sykes bit her lip, waiting for a response.

‘Yes, well, I would be overjoyed if you would stop harassing me about it. I’ll come when I want to and not when you tell me to, got that.’ The chilly silence from the other end of the line gave Leonie a sense of supreme satisfaction. Continuing slowly, with each syllable emphasised, she spoke into the receiver. ‘Now do you think you could give David a message?’ Leonie’s fingers resumed their clicking.

‘Yes, of course.’ Lynne Sykes was used to Leonie’s off hand attitude. ‘I have my pen ready, what is the message, please?’ She asked quietly, her voice controlled and calm.

‘Tell David I’m on my way to Woodbury now and I’ll be at the vicarage at three o’clock. Tell him to make sure he’s there when I arrive.’ Not waiting for any confirmation, Leonie replaced the receiver back in its cradle and grabbed her coat. Leaving her office, she spoke to her secretary as she passed her. ‘Shelley, I’m out of the office for the rest of the day.’ Leonie opened the main door leading onto Bridge Street and stepped out.

***

David quickened his step when he saw his sister, Leonie, waiting outside the vicarage door. He knew by her posture she was in another one of her tempers. Whenever summoned like this it always ended in a row, so David prepared himself for confrontation. He tried not to let it show but he could barely tolerate his sister. She was arrogant, conceited and a bully, but mostly he disliked her flippant attitude towards the church and the vocation he had chosen. Although she was his twin they were nothing alike. Not in disposition or features. The only thing they had in common was their reddish auburn hair. Leonie was money grabbing, and as an estate agent the job suited her personality down to the ground.

Not bothering to wait for David to reach her, Leonie called out to him, literally shouting: ‘Where have you been, I have been waiting ten minutes.’

David waited until he stood by her side before answering, trying hard to control his irritation. ‘I can’t just drop everything at your whim, Leonie. I have my work to do.’

Leonie snorted derisively. ‘Work, how can you call it work? Sitting with old ladies and drinking tea.’

‘Today, the old lady happens to be your great aunt, who, just in case you are interested, may not have much time left on this earth.’

Leonie glared at her bother impatiently. ‘Give me a break. I’ve already had an earful from Lynne Sykes. One thing I am not, dear brother of mine, is a hypocrite. I have no time for Sophia, and you know why. In fact she’s one of the reasons I’m here. Now are you going to let me in or not?’ Leonie stamped her foot impatiently.

David let out a deep sigh, walked round to the back door and walked through into the kitchen, not waiting to see if Leonie followed him. He fumbled about in the sink washing dishes and then switched the kettle onto boil. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Leonie had wandered through into the living room and he listened for her reply. He could hear her rummaging through his newspaper. ‘I haven’t read that myself yet, Leonie,’ he called.

Ignoring his hint Leonie continued to skip through the local trivia of events in the latest addition of the
Centurion
newspaper, scanning through the property adverts listed by her competitors. ‘Haven’t you anything stronger?’ she eventually replied, her voice petulant and demanding.

David dried some mugs and set them out on a tray. ‘Coffee?’

‘Very funny,’ Leonie sniggered sarcastically. ‘I suppose coffee will have to do then, and two spoons of sugar.’

Yes, you need sweetening up, David thought, stirring in the sugar. He walked into his sitting room and passed Leonie her coffee. ‘So, what is it now, and why all the drama?’ he asked. He took his newspaper out of her hand, hoping she wasn’t about to ask him for more money. It had been a mistake letting Leonie know he had savings. With hardly any overheads, no wife or children to support and no expensive hobbies or holidays, his bank balance had grown considerably over the years. Adding to it the equity from the sale of a small terraced house he’d sold before moving into the vicarage, meant he was financially well off, or had been. That was before Leonie persuaded him to put his savings to good use, her own good use in fact. Three years ago he had lent her ten thousand pounds, supposedly to refurbish her business premises and buy new computers and equipment for her office. Leonie had used the money to pay off her credit cards. What remained she put as a deposit on a new sports car, taking out finance for the balance. A year later she convinced him he would benefit by investing in an Italian overseas housing development. Against his better judgement he was cajoled into handing over twenty-five thousand pounds, and up until now, the sure-fire secure investment had never been mentioned again.

Leonie remained standing and sipped her coffee. Scowling at the bitter taste, she pointedly placed her mug on top of David’s newspaper, now folded neatly on the coffee table. Exasperated, David shook his head and put the mug onto a coaster, sliding his precious newspaper away. Leonie edged towards the bookcase and began to examine his books. She picked up a copy of Sotheby’s Inside Story, but no interest registered on her face as she flicked through the pages. David had the surprised notion that his sister was nervous, but that wouldn’t be true to form.

‘Nathan Brock telephoned me last night,’ she said in a clipped voice. ‘There has been a girl in the
Centurion
office, poking her nose into our history, if you please. You realise what this means. Someone is looking to hang out our family’s dirty laundry.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ David replied. ‘The Lanceleys don’t have any dirty laundry, not that I’m aware of anyway.’

‘Not the Lanceleys, stupid, the Deverells. I for one don’t want all that business from the past raked up.’

Ignoring the insult, David responded, ‘I think if you check your facts you will find it’s the Farrells they are interested in, not the Deverells.’

‘Well, that’s almost as bad. Wait a minute, how do you know that?’ Leonie slid the book she’d been thumbing back into its place and turned to face him.

‘You remember Lillian Farrell? She passed away a short while ago. Well, her great nieces, Amelia and Grace Farrell, have inherited her cottage.’

‘Lillian Farrell should never have owned it in the first place. The Farrells tricked our great uncle into signing it over. Primrose Cottage must be worth a small fortune now.’ David raised his eyebrows, noncommittal. He had heard this argument so many times before. ‘Anyway, I thought Lillian was the last of them,’ Leonie added.

‘Apparently not. It appears Lillian had a brother, Harry. Amelia and Grace are his grandchildren.’

‘Like I said before, how do you know all this?’ Leonie demanded.

‘Amelia and Grace visited me and introduced themselves. They wanted to know more about the cottage and who had previously lived in it. To be truthful, I’m a bit hesitant about telling them what I’ve found out.’

‘I bet you are,’ Leonie smirked. ‘They won’t like hearing their great grandfather was a murderer.’

‘There wasn’t a scrap of concrete evidence to connect John Farrell to Uncle Laurence’s murder, as well you know. Most of it was circumstantial, and it’s why the police let him go.’

‘I know what you’re saying and it’s precisely why we don’t want that particular can of worms opened up. The authorities could decide to use the new-fangled forensic science we hear so much about, DNA for instance. Who will they point a finger at then? No, we must stop this before it goes any further.’

‘You are worrying for nothing. I’ve already told you, they are not interested in the Deverells.’

Ignoring him Leonie went on, ‘I’ll have to think about what to do. It’s good that you know these Farrells. You can keep an eye on them and report back to me. What are they like?’

‘I only met them briefly. They look like any other young women to me; jeans and tee shirts, that sort of thing.’

‘I don’t want to know what they were wearing, you idiot. What were they like? Inquisitive, rough, ladylike, poor – or did they look as though they had a bob or two?’

David shook his head, wondering why it always came back to money with Leonie. ‘I don’t remember. But while we’re on the subject of having a bob or two, what’s going on with the investment you made, using my money?’

Leonie looked confused. ‘Which one,’ she said.

‘Do you mean there was more than one?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Leonie shrugged.

‘Are you telling me there was more than one investment, or more than one investor, i.e. like me?’ Leonie turned her back to him and began flicking through another book.

‘Both,’ Leonie said quietly.

‘What?’

‘I said both. I told you at the time; a property developer in Italy needed capital, hence more than one investor. You didn’t imagine he could do much with twenty-five thousand pounds, did you?’

‘I see, and the other, is that in Italy?’

‘No, local and none of your money went to that, so breathe easy.’

‘What do you mean by that? Has something gone wrong?’

‘Look, I haven’t got time for all this,’ Leonie snapped. ‘Find out what you can about these Farrells, and as soon as you can let me know. Oh! And don’t let them near Sophia. I wouldn’t put it past her to change her will and that’s all we need.’ Leonie left the vicarage, slamming the door behind her.

Chapter 12

Sophia changing her will had never occurred to David Lanceley and he couldn’t help pondering on Leonie’s last remark. Sophia was bound to be interested in the Farrell sisters and would definitely want to meet them. Lillian had been like a mother to her, and later her dearest friend. Leonie could have a point, he conceded.

David went about the rest of his visits distracted. He consoled a recently bereaved, portly woman by asking her when her baby was due. A blustering apology followed, but it wasn’t long before he was seen to the door. Reverend Lanceley had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing her in church again anytime soon. His next visit was to Muriel Pinchbeck, a dear old lady and regular attender at his services. She always made him welcome with a cup of tea and a slice of her homemade cherry fruit cake. David hurried up her path with happy expectation.

After remarking on the change in the weather and her women’s problems, Mrs Pinchbeck suddenly stopped her ramblings and eyed him suspiciously. ‘Are you all right, Reverend Lanceley? You look a bit green around the gills.’

‘A bit under the weather, but fine really.’ David bit into a slice of cake and savoured the sweet taste. ‘This cake is delicious, Muriel, the best I’ve ever eaten.’

Mrs Pinchbeck accepted the compliment graciously, nodding as if it was a given. Not to be deterred, she said, ‘Do you think you are coming down with something? There’s a virus going around, you know. Very bad it is. They’re worried at Tapscott Manor that it will spread through the nursing home.’ She looked at David suspiciously. ‘You’re not going to pass your germs onto me, are you?’

‘No! No, I’m sure I haven’t any germs, Muriel. I’m just tired. I have a lot on my mind at the moment.’ Even though David did his best to reassure her, hoping to be offered another piece of her cherry cake, Muriel would have none it.

‘You’d best be off now. Have a lie down or something.’ She ushered him to her front door. David could sense her accusing eyes watching him as he walked away.