A Well Kept Secret (38 page)

Martin was rather taken aback by the request, but eventually he backed down when they agreed that there would be no naked lights, no cooking, and that they both had their mobile phones with them to alert him should they either change their mind or need assistance of any sort. They all returned to the house together, and June made sure that following a good feed, and armed with flasks of hot soup and a mountain of sandwiches, to say nothing of torches, bedding, first aid kit, and of course mobile phones they were ready for their big adventure. Martin and June accompanied them to the tree-house, watched them shin up the ladder and haul it up behind them. He called various well meant yet probably unnecessary cautions and instructions up to them, and eventually took his leave in company with June, and returned to the house.

Once they had finished clearing up in the kitchen, they repaired to the lounge. June had protested when he insisted on helping her, but as he assured her in no uncertain tones, just because he was the managing director of a successful company didn’t mean he didn’t know how to handle a tea towel!

Martin poured out a couple of glasses of wine, and having got comfortably settled in one of the armchairs that was set slightly at an angle to the one June was resting in, mentally prepared himself for what he feared might prove to be a difficult task. Once all the clearing up had been completed, June had accepted Martin’s invitation to come and sit with him in the lounge. She hadn’t asked him any questions, yet she must have known that there was something on his mind.
 
He needed to bring her up to date with the results of his visit to Mrs Jefferson, and finally the gist of his discussion with Charles with regard to her father and the situation in general. It had been a busy day, and they were both glad of a chance to relax a bit, and he was in no great hurry to start. He looked at her covertly, and was pleased to note that all the old tension that had been so apparent in her when they had first met now seemed to have largely drained away. He would have preferred a quiet evening just allowing themselves to get to know each other better but until he had told her of what he had discovered, that had to be put on the back-burner for a while. With the wine to hand he steeled himself to his task.

“Well, don’t keep me waiting,” June said lightly, breaking into his thoughts after they had been sitting quietly for a minute or so.

“Oh yes, I promised to give you the gist of the results of my visit to Mrs Jefferson this afternoon, didn’t I?” he responded as if it had slipped his mind.

“Yes you did; how
is
Mrs Jefferson?”

“There’s no good beating round the bush,” he said quietly, watching her face as he spoke. “I’m sorry to say that she is dying; she has terminal cancer.”

“Then I’m so very sorry to hear it,” she said, and he could tell that it wasn’t just a platitude it was something she felt and meant. “I cannot say that we were ever close, yet I really liked and respected her, she taught me a good deal before she left. I only wish I had got to know her better as a person.”

“Yes, it is very sad,” he agreed. “Thankfully, she appears to have come to terms with it. Her daughter is nursing her, and the pair of them have evolved the right attitude towards the inevitable. I found it humbling in a way, and even though I never knew the woman, I couldn’t help being impressed by the dignity with which she is facing her end. She still has her faculties, and having satisfied herself as to who I was and why I was there instead of my uncle, she admitted that there was something she wanted to get off her chest, exactly as her letter implied.”

“She was always kind and considerate towards me right from the time the doctor brought me to Springwater House,” June said, gazing down at her glass. “I feel a bit guilty now; me having fun on the beach, and her lying on her death bed.”

“There is nothing to feel guilty about; indeed, I think she might have thought it odd if you had appeared; she never mentioned you at all.”

“Which doesn’t make me feel much better; but that is life I suppose. I do hope that she doesn’t suffer, and that her end is peaceful.”

“If it is of any consolation, she does not appear to be in any pain, and although she is undoubtedly frail, she is quite matter-of-fact about what is happening. I believe that she feels easier now that she has told me what she felt I needed to know.”

June took a sip of her drink and placed the glass carefully back on the occasional table placed to the side of her chair.

“If you do not mind me asking, was it something to do with why there was so little contact between you and your uncle?” she asked shrewdly.

“In a way, yes,” he admitted, and proceeded to give her a resume of what had transpired between them that afternoon.

“And that now leaves me in the position of either ignoring the whole business, or trying to resolve it,” he concluded.

“She actually thinks that the doctor could kill someone?” June asked incredulously. “I find it hard to imagine that she could actually say that.”

“She obviously believes that it was a strong possibility.”

“Yes, but knowing the doctor I have to think that there must be some other explanation?”

“Well, tomorrow I propose to make some tentative enquiries to see if I can locate this Sergeant Burton. I rather imagine he is retired now, and even if he is deceased, if his death is perfectly natural then we have proved that your instincts are right, and the doctor didn’t shoot him.”

“What if he really went missing all those years ago?”

“That’s when it gets a bit trickier.”

“Well, I still don’t think it’s possible for the doctor to have murdered him, or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Nor do I,” he admitted candidly. “Even if he didn’t, something has been going on here, and for my money, something is
still
going on!”

“Oh, what makes you so certain about that?”

“I have also discovered that a quarter of a century ago there was a double murder in these parts, and an unknown amount of cash, presumed to be the motive for the crime, taken from the victims. What I find so interesting is the fact that the officer who discovered the bodies of the victims of this crime is the same person who Mrs Jefferson assured me was a frequent visitor to this house at about that time. She claimed that he appeared to have had some sort of hold over the doctor. He was here many times, yet after the crime he apparently never came again. Coincidence? Maybe, but when you put this together with everything else, one cannot escape from the possibility that there may be a connection, and I have a strong feeling that something is still going on to this day.”

“You mean, if, and it is a very big ‘if’, the doctor shot this police officer, somebody else connected with that crime may be trying to find the missing money?”

“You said yourself that there might be something valuable in the house,” he reminded her. “Why else would someone be so keen to buy the place? Nor is it impossible that this mysterious would-be purchaser has already put in an appearance!”

“I take it you are referring to Mr Edwards?”

“I’m not saying definitely that he is one and the same, but yes, we need to consider the possibility. We have already established that he probably isn’t who he says he is. There may be a simple explanation for the deception of course, then again there may not. Why is he so keen? Again, I am prepared to admit that there could be an alternative explanation, or maybe there isn’t.
 
Before we get carried away with the idea that Edwards is a crook, we should not forget the enigmatic Peter Buxted.”

She raised her eyebrows a shade.

“What about him?”

“Something about him does not ring true. Do you know, when he came here he didn’t notice the fact that the cupboard door that once existed under the stairs was no longer in existence? He actually stated that nothing had changed when he looked round the hall, yet if he was as frequent a visitor as he claims, he must have noticed that?”

“I see what you mean.”

They relapsed into silence as both of them thought through the many ramifications of their theorising.

“Did you not ask Mrs Jefferson about Mr Buxted?” June asked at last.

“No, it never crossed my mind,” he admitted. “I was so shocked by everything else she told me that I completely forgot about it, and I cannot very well go back again, can I?”

“No, I suppose not.”

There was another brief silence as Martin tried to make up his mind about the best way of telling June what he knew she had to be made aware of.

“There is also something else I need to tell you,” he said at last. “It’s about your father.”

She looked up at him her eyes suddenly bright with expectation.

“You haven’t found him already?”

“Not exactly; I told you that I would start making enquiries on your behalf. The telephone call I received gave me some preliminary results.”

“And you have news?” she asked expectantly, yet he saw in her eyes that she feared the worst.

“In a way, only not exactly what you are hoping to hear I’m afraid. Did you know that you father had a criminal record?”

The surprise he saw on her features could never have been simulated.

“No I most certainly did not!” she exclaimed. “You must be mistaken!”

“I wish I was; his is a name well known to the police.”

“I don’t find this very funny,” she exclaimed. “It’s my father you are talking about!”

“I’m sorry, June; I certainly wouldn’t joke about such matters,” he said seriously. “It seems that in his time he mixed with some pretty heavy characters in the underworld; the police know that he was involved in several major crimes.”

She looked at him aghast. “I find that so utterly incredible!”

“I doubt even your mother knew anything about his secret activities. I gather he was a clever and methodical man, and took great care to keep his private and criminal lives completely separate.”

“Well, if he really was a criminal, he certainly didn’t make much money out of it!” she retorted. “We certainly never seemed to have much in the way of luxuries when I was a small child.”

“I don’t pretend to know how much money he had, nor where he kept it. What seems to have happened on that fateful night he came to Wellworthy was that the ‘job’ he was after was all too likely to have been in connection with another crime. I cannot prove a thing, you understand, yet the inference is that he was involved in some way with the double murder that happened at the same time as Sergeant Burton stopped coming to this house. The crime was never solved, and a considerable sum of money was taken from the car in which the bodies were found. Given his record and other factors, it is possible he was involved in some way, and later when the proceeds were divided up, he decided to get right away and enjoy his share.”

The shock his words engendered within her was all too obvious to Martin, and he hated breaking such terrible news to her, yet he knew that he had little choice.

“I can’t believe that,” she exclaimed, shaking her head as if to rid herself of something that was totally unacceptable. “Even if he was involved in something illegal as you seem to think, I just
know
he would never desert us!”

He looked at her, hating what he would have to say next. “The alternative is that he never went anywhere,” he said quietly.

There was silence as the full import of his words sunk home.

“You mean?” she asked tremulously at last.

“That the criminals he was associated with got rid of him. I’m sorry that I have to put it to you so bluntly, yet to me it sticks out a mile. You say your father would never have willingly deserted you and your mother; maybe he never did. Did you know that the car he owned at the time also disappeared and has never been seen since?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” she said slowly, “and I’m beginning to think I never really knew my father at all.”

There was a further period of silence as she tried to take in what he was telling her. He felt intensely sorry for what she must be feeling, yet there was no sense in trying to keep things from her.

“Much as I hate the idea, I’m starting to think you may be right,” she sighed at last. “I suppose in a way I’ve always known that he was dead, yet I never really wanted to face up to the possibility. Mum and I were his whole life; he wouldn’t desert us, not for any amount of money. I guess I always knew in my heart that I would never find him; not after all these years. If what you say is true, and I fear it is, I won’t even have a grave to mourn over, because after all this time there is no hope of ever finding his last resting place is there?”

He shrugged and said nothing, for there was nothing much he could say that would make the situation any easier for her to bear.

She sat quiet, deep in her own thoughts, and he respected her silence as she struggled to come to terms with the implications of all he had told her.