The Elephant Tree (22 page)

‘OK they’ve emigrated now... Bob keeps sending letters...She finally writes back, fucking hell.’

‘What is it?’

‘She doesn’t know if Bob is Jack’s father.’

‘Oh my god. Do you think he has any idea?’

‘I don’t know. Bob always seemed to have a closer bond with Jack but I assumed it was because he was older and they could do more stuff together,’ Scott said, and turned to the next page.

‘This is where my grandparents die. There’s a fire at their home. Apparently it was ruled as arson, I never knew that. I can’t believe there were so many secrets. Bob is using his share of the insurance money to move over here. Mum is telling him not to, that it could tear what’s left of the family apart – Bob ignores her and comes anyway – Yeah they start seeing each other again, I can’t believe it – Now it looks like mum is finally coming to her senses. She says she loves him but she doesn’t know if she can continue like they are. She won’t leave dad and she doesn’t want to risk hurting him if he ever found out about the affair.’

Scott flipped through a couple more pages.

‘This is the last one. It’s dated about a year before I was born.’

Scott pulled out everything Angela had replaced inside the broken box in case there were any more letters. He pushed and pressed at the box, looking for any other possible compartments where more may have been hidden, but found nothing.

‘I have to go home and talk to Jack. I need to tell him what I found in the letters, but I need to hear him say that he didn’t know anything about it.’

‘But Jeff’s leaving soon to go and sell the crop; and what about me and Boris?’

‘Will you look after the dog? I’ll probably just be gone a day or so, then I’ll come right back. Is Jeff here now?’

‘No he went out a while ago to make some phone calls and arrange the sale.’

‘OK, just give him an outline of what’s happened, tell him I’m sorry but I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ Scott said and kissed her.

S
cott put some things in a bag and threw it into the back of the Renault. A snow so light was falling that it looked like dandelions releasing their seeds during summer. Never seeming to touch the ground they would float around, carried by the smallest currents of air. He knew the trip would need to be quick if what Maurice had told him was right, that once the snow started to lie, the roads up to the mountain would become impassable. The winter had been relatively kind so far but heavy snow had been forecast for the coming few days.

‘Drive big, or don’t drive at all,’ the presenter on local radio crackled out from the car speakers. ‘If the south westerly catches those clouds we can expect at least six inches by tomorrow.’

The route back was easy enough to recall. Once the snaking side roads had been replaced by straighter and wider main roads Scott made a call through to Jack. His brother picked up on the second ring.

‘Where’ve you been hiding away? You know everything that’s been going on back here?’

‘Just taking a break. Why’s what’s the deal?’

‘A Detective Fallon for starters. He’s been all over looking for you, poking into stuff because of that shit with Twinkle. I told you that fucker was nothing but trouble but you wouldn’t stay away.’

‘I’ve been away, Jack. A minute ago you were complaining about that, make your mind up.’

‘Funny. What do you want then, why the call now?’

‘I’m on my way back. I need to talk to you.’

‘I’ll be at the apartment this afternoon,’ Jack said, and the line went dead.

Scott dropped the mobile phone into his lap. The gears grated before sliding into place as he accelerated along the slip-road and pulled the car onto the highway back towards Garden Heights. The snow was still falling but melting as soon as it landed on the wet tarmac. He hoped that would remain the case for his journey back.

Scott found a spot in the car park where Stan had waited during his last visit. He slid coins into the slot of the ticket machine and pressed the button, a printed parking ticket was ejected which Scott ripped free from the machine and took back to the car.

He didn’t recognise the concierge this time as he made his way inside, so reported to him that he was an expected guest and waited while the man called up to Jack’s apartment.

‘Go right up sir,’ he said, with a brief tilt from the waist.

Scott just caught an elevator as the doors were closing and pressed for the top floor. As the smooth ascent began, Scott’s mind again cast back to the lift he and Twinkle had taken on the night of his death. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This wasn’t the time to get sidetracked with remorse.

He was the last passenger onboard when the lift arrived at the penthouse floor. Scott walked to Jack’s door to find it open. He walked inside and pushed the door until he heard the metallic click of the catch falling into place behind him.

‘So what was so important to disturb you from hibernation and bring you back to the city, little brother?’

Scott whirled around. Jack was standing beside the large table in the centre of the room with his customary glass of whiskey in hand; although Scott couldn’t help but notice the apartment was far from its usual standard of pristine cleanliness. On the table there was a pile of unopened mail and an ashtray with a cigar butt amid a dusting of ash. Jack’s shoes had been kicked off and lay on the oak floor like dead fish washed up on the beach. Scott sensed this may not be the time to bring the letters to Jack’s attention, but he was here now and patience wasn’t Jack’s strongest virtue.

‘I found these,’ Scott said, holding their mother’s letters out in front of him. ‘They’re letters sent over the years from our mother to uncle Bob.’

Jack took a sip from his glass and then rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

‘OK then, let’s see,’ he said, taking a seat on one of the couches. He put down the glass and extended his hand for Scott to bring him the letters.

Scott walked across and handed them over. He went to fix himself a drink and then sat on the opposite couch and waited for Jack to work his way through them all.

His brother made no comment as he read, simply laying down one sheet after another onto the table as he finished them, pausing only to take an occasional drink from his glass.

‘OK, so what?’ He said finally, relaxing back onto the couch. ‘So the old lady had a thing with Bob.’

‘It’s a bit more than that though. He might have even been your father.’

‘Unlikely, besides it’s all finished with now so what difference does it make?’

‘What about the fire? Did you know it was arson? He used the insurance money to follow you all over here to start things up with our mother again.’

‘That doesn’t prove anything.’

‘No it doesn’t prove anything, but then our parents dying in the car crash and him being a mechanic? He could have staged the whole thing when she finally wouldn’t come back to him. Think about it Jack. His suicide years later could have been due to the guilt of what he’d done. Not being able to live with it anymore. You knew him way better than I ever did, do you think it’s possible?’

‘Like I say, Scott, that’s all in the past. They’re all dead now and you have more immediate problems to deal with.’

‘Fallon, I know.’

‘Yeah, Fallon. You gonna speak to him before you vanish off again, wherever you’ve been to?’

‘I don’t know, I really just came back to show you the letters. I hadn’t thought much past that. It’s not like I have any information that can help him anyway.’

‘From what I’ve heard he thinks there’s more to the shooting and Twinkle vanishing than meets the eye, and you’re as close to it all as anyone.’

‘OK, there’s no point arguing with you about this right now, I’m gonna get going. I’ll be back in touch in a while,’ Scott said, putting down his barely touched glass of whiskey, and walked to the door. ‘I really thought those letters would have mattered to you though, Jack. Finding out stuff like that about our family? Possibly even who your father is?’’

‘So I’ll just say I haven’t seen you if anyone comes asking again?’ Jack asked, sidestepping Scott’s last comment.

‘I don’t know Jack, I haven’t done anything wrong. Not really wrong anyway and I don’t know where Twinkle is, so tell them what you want.’

Scott turned the handle on the apartment door, left and closed it softly after him. The lights in the hallway seemed brighter than when he’d arrived moments before. Scott moved his hand over the sensor to summon the lift then rubbed his forehead, trying to work loose the tension before it could cement itself into a headache.

He squinted against the harsh glare that poured out of the empty lift as the doors opened and he walked inside. He pressed for the lobby and thought back over Jack’s reactions, or rather lack of them, as he’d read through the letters. His absence of visible emotion was fairly typical of Jack when dealing with any serious issues, another one of his finely honed abilities. But to learn that your own father may not be who you thought but actually your uncle? Scott couldn’t wrap his head around it, no reaction at all. Nothing.

The lift stopped periodically on other floors, letting people on board, so Scott moved to the back of the car to make room. As the doors parted onto the lobby, Scott waited as the other passengers disembarked and caught sight of Neil seated in the lobby waiting area behind an open newspaper.

Neil saw Scott as he strode over, put down the newspaper and turned to face him.

‘What’s with the paper, you on a stakeout?’

‘Sort of yeah, Elizabeth saw you coming into the building so I came down here to wait for you leaving. Figured if you were in to see Jack you wouldn’t be very long.’

‘So what is it? Have you seen those guys again who turned you over?’

‘No but I’m still keeping away from the bars. I have seen a detective Fallon though, asking all kinds of stuff about Twinkle but also about you.’

‘Yeah Jack filled me in already.’

‘Do you know where Twinkle is?’

‘No.’

‘Well he seems to think you’re the best route to find him.’

‘I’ve pretty much just been through all this with Jack upstairs, nice to see you man, but if there’s nothing else,’ he said, and after a second began walking to the exit.

‘Just watch your back, Scott.’

Scott spun back around to look at Neil.

‘I’ve been keeping a low profile, hardly been out at all, but Elizabeth remembered where she’d seen one of the guys that jumped me. It was in here, in this building. Couldn’t have been anything to do with me either ‘cause at that stage I hadn’t even met her.’

Scott nodded, not really understanding what it meant, and left.

He walked briskly back to the car pulling up his hood against the sharp winds that whipped at him once he’d left the cover of the building. Snow was falling heavier now.

Scott got into the car, started the engine and used the wipers to clear the layer of snow from the windscreen. He knew he should start the drive back up to the mountains before the weather got worse, but wanted to pick up a few things from the house first and just take a little time out to try and think through what was going on. He knew he couldn’t stay around the city too long. The fact that he’d seen Twinkle die at the hands of McBlane and then he’d vanished would make them uneasy. He couldn’t risk running into any of them and he knew McBlane would have eyes everywhere.

Scott pulled out of the car park and drove past the Walker building again to turn onto the main street. Two men in a stationary dark green Volvo opposite appeared to watch him as he drove by. This is crazy, Scott thought to himself. All this stuff from Jack and Neil has just made me paranoid. I’m finally about to make some decent cash and get away from this place and now I’m jumping at shadows. I’ll get back to the house, relax, maybe have a drink or two and if I feel up to it, then I’ll make the drive. If not, then I’ll go first thing in the morning.

He turned on the radio and pressed the preset buttons till he found a station he could tolerate. Something mellow to help slow his thoughts. No-one had followed him from the Walker building he reassured himself, took a deep breath and settled back into the seat.

The gravelled patch on the approach to the house was covered with a thin layer of unblemished snow. Scott parked up, walked to the front door and let himself in. The house was in complete darkness, but he slowly walked from room to room turning lights on to make certain he was alone.

Satisfying himself that the house was empty, and again cursing his newly developed hyper tension, Scott went into the kitchen to make some coffee. He didn’t know exactly what it was he’d be looking for around the house. Just to poke around for any other things his uncle may have hidden to shed more light on what he’d learned about his family.

The kettle clicked off as a cloud of steam billowed from the spout, fogging up the kitchen window. Scott began pouring the boiling water into a cup with a teaspoon of instant coffee, and heard three loud thumps on the front door. His nerves immediately began to jangle like sleigh bells. His hand holding the kettle wobbled, spilling boiling water onto the counter, and he dropped the spoon. He put the kettle back onto its stand and trying to compose himself, strode to the door.