Legacy of Lies (3 page)

The day I die it will be raining. I know this with the kind of certainty that strikes one at certain times. Rain washing my life away, washing me back into the rich brown earth.

T
he wake was an odd affair. Marcus had hired a room in the local hotel and they retired there en mass. Alec lodged Naomi and Napoleon in a corner of the large room, close beside the window and with a table, behind which Napoleon could lie out of the way of careless feet and Naomi could keep people at a distance should she feel the need. He described the space to her: the double doors, the tables along the back wall set out with food, and the small bar in the corner.

‘How many people?'

‘Oh, must be close to fifty. Some from the church seem to have gone and others turned up for the free food.'

‘Alec, don't be so cynical.'

‘Who's cynical? I just know people. So do you. Marcus is holding court. I suppose I should mingle.'

‘Get me some of that free food first,' Naomi teased. ‘Breakfast seems a long time ago.'

‘Will do. Sure you'll be all right if I go and look like the bereaved nephew? I'd like to find out who's here and what they were to Rupe.'

‘I'll be fine,' Naomi told him. ‘And you do need to make yourself visible, you know.'

Alec kissed her. He fetched food from the buffet table, picking items she could identify easily and gave her a brief rundown of what he'd put on her plate and where, then he kissed her again and left. Naomi ate, breaking her own rules and slipping the odd treat to Napoleon. Alec had brought wine and a glass of water and she sipped the wine slowly alternating with deep gulps of water. The room was stuffy and the sun through the window too hot on the side of her face. She wondered if she could manage to move.

The sound of people moving and chatting shifted around her. She caught snatches of conversation and was unsurprised to find that Marcus's outburst in the church was a major topic of debate.

‘What was he thinking of?' A woman's voice.

‘Was he drunk?' This time a man. He sounded quite young, Naomi thought.

‘You never can tell with Marcus. Puts it away all right, but I've never seen him actually sozzled.' An older man, this time. He had a broad accent with a warm burr to it that Naomi knew was local.

‘Not like dear old Rupert …' The woman again.

‘Rupert was never … oh, I know he liked his pleasures, but …' The older man. He sounded, Naomi thought, as though he too liked his pleasures and had already indulged.

‘Think there's anything in what he said? Marcus, I mean.' The younger man sounded excited at the prospect.

‘Marcus has a lively imagination and too much time on his hands,' the woman said firmly and Naomi got the distinct feeling that this would mark the end of the discussion. Mother and son, she decided, reflecting upon their relationship, though she didn't place the older man as the father. For some reason she couldn't quite explain, the tone of the older speakers did not chime with their being man and wife.

She was right about the conversation change, though, and proved obliquely right about the relationship.

‘How are the plans for the wedding?' the older man asked.

‘Oh, going very well, aren't they, Phillip. You know, she is a lovely girl, but I'm not so sure I like the parents.'

They drifted away and Naomi focussed on identifying another conversation. She bit into one of the little cherry tomatoes Alec had put on her plate, savouring the burst of flavour, and then sampled something long and crispy that turned out to be a cheese straw. From across the room she heard Alec's voice, but not the words. Directly in front of her she heard a woman laugh. Off to the left a couple bickered. Naomi listened with momentary interest, but as the object of disagreement seemed to be a mother-in-law – whose, she wasn't sure – she decided it would soon become a boring exchange and not worth the attention.

The sandwich was odd. Goats cheese? And something fruity, like a plum chutney. She was in two minds as to whether the ingredients went together, but finished it anyway and then took another sip of wine. Two men were discussing the price and profitability of sugar beet and Naomi was about to dismiss them when she heard one man say, ‘Bit of a rum deal him being out your way, Frank. I knew the old bugger liked to walk, but he usually kept to the Peatlands trail. I never knew him to
off-road
, like.'

‘Off-road.' Naomi was amused. It made it sound as though Uncle Rupert moved on wheels.

‘Never knew him to come out that far, that's true. And the couple what found him noticed he weren't dressed for walking. Got his town shoes on and you know how particular the old bugger were when it came to his clothes and such. No coat, neither.'

‘It
was
a hot day.'

‘True, but he were an old fashioned sort of bloke, weren't he. Never saw him in shirtsleeves, not any time. I reckoned he never felt dressed without his jacket.'

The second man laughed. ‘Careful, Frank. You'll be agreeing with old Marcus next and we all know he's barmy!'

‘Not a bit of it. I'm just saying that it were strange, that's all. The couple what found him, they came straight up to the farm and I called the police and then went out with the man while the missus looked after the girl, like. We went back to where they found him and there he is, lying on his back. Face up to the sky, he was. Looked as shocked as any man I've ever seen and I seen a few dead ‘uns, as well you know.'

Naomi wondered why he had seen dead people often enough to make a comparison but didn't really feel that she could ask. Instead, she took another sip of wine and listened hard, hoping for more. Inconsiderately, it seemed the men had now spotted an acquaintance and were calling him across. To Naomi's disgust the conversation turned once more to crop prices and kids and other domestic issues and it was obvious that she would learn no more.

‘Are you all right over here all alone?'

She recognized Marcus's voice and smiled in his direction. ‘I'm fine, thank you. We thought Alec should get on and do the mingling bit. I'm still a bit wary in company and places I don't know.'

Marcus dragged out a chair and flopped down beside her. He set something that sounded heavy down on the table and then a second lighter object. ‘I've purloined a bottle,' he said. ‘Want a refill? You look to be drinking red.'

‘Thanks. There seem to be a lot of people here.'

‘Free food and booze,' Marcus said dolefully, echoing Alec's sentiments, then he laughed, embarrassed. ‘Oh, don't take any notice of me, my dear. Truth to tell most of them were friends to varying degrees and it's good of people to want to pay their respects. Truth to tell, too, I really miss him. Miss him terribly.'

‘I'm sorry,' Naomi said. ‘I wish I'd met him. From the stories Alec tells he was quite a character.'

Marcus laughed softly. ‘Oh, he was that all right. But he was a good man and … I cared for him. Cared deeply.'

Were they more than friends? Naomi wondered. ‘What you said in the church …?' she asked tentatively.

‘What I said in the church, my dear, I meant. Meant every word and I'm hoping and praying I can persuade young Alec to take me seriously. God knows the local constabulary can't or won't. Rupert had a heart attack, they say. That's what killed him. Lord knows, Rupe wasn't in the best of health, but the doctor reckoned he could last a good ten more years if he took care of himself.'

‘And did he? Take care of himself?'

Marcus was silent. Naomi sensed him shake his head. ‘No,' he said at last. ‘Rupert was his own man, did his own thing as we used to say. He loved life and, I suppose, he did indulge himself a little too much but … My dear, if I'd come to the house and found him dead in his chair, I would have accepted that. Lord knows, I expected it. Every time I came to Fallowfields I wondered if that would be the time I found my old friend dead. I made him give me a list of people I should call, just in case. But this way? It's all wrong.'

Wrong shoes and no jacket, Naomi thought.

‘Was there an investigation?'

‘No, dear. Nothing. He'd seen the doctor a few days before and when they … cut him open, they found that his heart had just given out. Nothing suspicious. Just an old man out walking who had a heart attack and couldn't call for help. That's what they decided and nothing I can say makes them believe any different.'

‘Maybe that's all there is to know?'

Marcus poured more wine into his own glass. Naomi had not been aware of him drinking it and she had not touched her own during their conversation. ‘I've tried to believe that,' he said. ‘I don't want to think of my friend in trouble, frightened, even in pain, I know he must have had the pain and that is bad enough. To suspect it could have been worse than that …'

‘But what exactly makes you think …?'

‘That he was murdered? Naomi, do you believe a man can be frightened to death?'

‘I don't know. I think it's possible.'

‘Well, I know that Rupert was afraid. He'd begun to lock his doors. Rupert, in all the years I knew him,
never
locked his doors. Then he monitored his telephone calls, used the answer phone; he hated the darn things. And there were people who came looking for him. Two men, he said, asking questions. One, I know, went to Fallowfields and Rupert was afraid.'

‘Didn't he tell the police? Did he give you any idea who they were or what they wanted?'

‘No. No, nothing. He wouldn't listen to me when I said he should report the incidents. He didn't tell me who the man was or what was said or why he was suddenly scared of his own shadow. Naomi, in the days before he died, he didn't even come to the shop. Rupert loved our little shop. He thrived on it; meeting people. To cut himself off from that. From his friends …'

‘From you,' Naomi said softly.

‘From me. Yes. Rupert was my friend. My dear, dear, friend.' His voice broke with the pain of it and Naomi reached out, hoping to find his hand without knocking over the wine. She touched his arm and laid her hand on the rough tweed of his jacket.

‘Alec has to do something,' Marcus said fiercely. ‘He must do something. Rupert is dead and he cannot, in all conscience, just accept that and walk away.'

N
aomi was very quiet on the drive back to Fallowfields. She was not sure how seriously she should take Marcus Prescott; she sensed that Rupert's death would have been almost more than he could bear no matter how it had come about. Worse almost than the death was the sense that his old friend had been unable or unwilling to confide his worries.

Naomi had no idea what it was that Rupert might have been worried about but she did wonder if, perhaps, something personal had been bothering him. Something
too
personal to have talked to Marcus about. That Marcus had been so used to being in the know would have made any secrecy on Rupert's part seem out of character and it would have been easy – natural even – for Marcus to see his death as suspicious following so soon after this change in behaviour.

‘Penny for them,' Alec said. ‘I saw Marcus had you cornered but you seemed to be holding your own, so I called off the rescue attempt.'

‘Not sure if they're worth a penny,' Naomi told him. She took a deep breath. ‘I've agreed we'll have lunch with him tomorrow.'

‘You've what? Naomi, I really don't think … I mean, I'm sympathetic and everything, but don't you think the old boy's losing his marbles?'

Naomi was thoughtful. ‘No,' she said finally, ‘I don't think he is. At least, not the whole bag full. Anyway, we'll be seeing him in the morning at the solicitors. It made it a bit difficult to say no. I thought, well, lunch in a public place, get it over and done with. He wanted to come out to Fallowfields and that would have been far more awkward. You could hardly throw him out if he got to be too annoying.'

She smiled in Alec's direction and heard him laugh. ‘All right. I know when I've been organized. Won't hurt, I suppose.'

‘No, and I think you owe him anyway.'

‘You reckon? How so?'

‘Oh, for Rupert's sake, I suppose and also because Marcus was his closest friend …' She hesitated, not sure if she really believed the next thing she planned to say or if she had been infected by Marcus's zeal. ‘And because I think there might be something to what he said,' Naomi admitted.

Tired, they had gone to bed early that evening but Naomi woke in the early hours. She felt her way to the en suite bathroom, proud that it was getting so much easier to orientate herself in strange places.

She found, to her annoyance, that she was now fully awake. Back in the bedroom Alec's soft, steady breathing just added to her sense of irritation. He obviously hadn't even noticed she had got out of bed. She sighed, stifling the irrational desire to get back into bed and wake him up and then pretend to have been asleep all the time.

Don't be such a baby, she told herself.

She stood in the doorway recalling what Alec had said about the room. He said there was a window seat overlooking the garden. She would sit there a while. One window was open and she made her way towards it, guided as much by the slight breeze squeezing through the gap as she was from memory. The window seat was deep, comfortable and padded; an alcove really, with the window on one side. She pulled up her feet, wrapping her arms about her knees and leaned back against the wall. She laid her head against the closed pane and breathed deep of the night scents rising from the garden.

Back home, in her flat, she could smell the sea at night. By day the traffic smells blocked the tang of salt, but by late evening, when the tide came in and the cars made their way home, the wind carried the smell of seaweed and damp tide.