Lewi's Legacy (21 page)

20
Parting of the ways

Burley Moor

Victor had made love to his beautiful colleague for the last time, how fitting that it should be in a Paris hotel, albeit close to the rail station. He knew that the real spark of love was missing, and they would always be friends, but sadly only that. Leah-May had told him about her complicated life, and somehow he wished that he had never challenged her in the first place on the station concourse. He now felt that he had been drawn into a web of danger, with her father as the spider. This new situation had now brought to the surface again, the phobia of being followed with all the stress that it brought to his mind. They had both been rewarded well for their efforts. Each had a numbered account in Switzerland with the princely sum of eighty eight thousand pounds in it. But now with the robbery incident at the warehouse deep down, he felt that this was not the end of the matter.

As Leah disappeared into the disembarking crowds on the Channel Tunnel platform at Waterloo, there was no kiss goodbye, no keep in touch, just a wave and then she was gone. She was now out of his life. He wondered if they would ever meet again. Before he purchased his ticket for Brockenhurst, he rang his father to ask him to pick him up at the station. He was still looking for any suspicious characters as he passed through the gate, and as he walked along the platform, he looked in each carriage for seats. As usual it was a full train, so he decided on a carriage. He sat on one of the small seats near the exit door, he felt a little safer at last. As the train jolted, two large men jumped on at the last minute, one carriage away, but he didn’t see them again.

Victor got out at his station, looking around to see if the big men did too, but there was no sign of them. He ran up the staircase of the little wooden bridge, crossed the track and could see his father waiting alongside his car. Harry shook his sons hand and noticed how thin he was. He also noticed how much he had changed in other ways. The outgoing, full of fun nature had been replaced by an inward brooding character and when Henry asked if he was alright, Victor looked vacantly into the windscreen and nodded without speaking.

In the following weeks Fay and Henry did their best to support their son in his obvious unease with himself, and were scared that if they pressed him for answers they might drive him away again. Their patience with him sadly was not rewarded as he disappeared again, but this time suspiciously. They were then left only with more unanswered questions.

Within view of his home he walked through the mist on the moor. At that time it was just about knee height, but as he and Sally, his faithful long suffering border collie, walked deeper into the moorland the mist became fog. It soon became thicker and higher; shoulder height now, every shape that he passed looked menacing, as if it was a crouching black giant waiting to pounce on them. At last they were heading towards higher ground where the fog had dispersed. He could hear the distant hiss of the traffic on the A31 heading for Ringwood and the coast, but he could hear no other sound, but soon his thoughts were shattered by a familiar voice.

‘Hello my dear Victor. How nice it is to see you my boy.’ Mikhail appeared out of the mist, blocking his path. Sally began to bark at him but Victor gently patted her head and she calmed down. ‘I would be very happy if you could accompany us Victor to the car, I have something to tell you.’ Mikhail did not look as if Victor had any choice but to go with him. ‘Not the dog Victor if you don’t mind.’

Victor sighed and told Sally to sit and stay, showing her his flat hand. She obeyed automatically, but gave a little whine as if to say be careful to her master. Reluctantly he walked alongside the big Russian Ambassador, followed by two even bigger companions who seemed to appear from nowhere. They soon reached a large black BMW seven series and he sat in the back with Mikhail.

‘You’ll be pleased to know that the stolen artefacts, all of them, have been recovered.’ Surprisingly, Mikhail did not seem too happy about that. ‘What I need to know though, is why someone should go to all the trouble to steal them and then give us the information so that we could find them again, not waiting for his reward? What do you think Victor?’

Victor tried to swallow but found it difficult with a dry throat. ‘Look, Mikhail, how do I know why someone does that? All I can say is that you have got the damn things back, so what’s the bloody big deal Mikhail?’ he hoped that he would be satisfied with his answer.

By this time they were cruising along the A31 towards Southampton as they were talking, and soon speeding on the M27. Mikhail tapped the shoulder of the huge co-driver who turned around to face the two of them in the back seat. Not the sort of man he would like to meet on a dark night, Victor thought. Mikhail just nodded to the man, and he pointed to the exit onto the M271, and then immediately drove up the slip road to a trading estate. Mikhail roughly got hold of Victor’s hand and with a small hypodermic syringe, administered something in a vein. In ten seconds Victor was unconscious.

21
Strange happenings

The best of friends

Thankfully Collette had met Louis at Saint Charles station in Marseilles, noticing that he looked world weary, but he had the courtesy not to mention it as they drove back to the vineyard. Henry met them at the front door, and Louis was saddened at how old he looked, He was nearly eighty though, a good age. André could not be there to greet him as he was at a marketing convention in Vichy. Louis was proud that his step brother had carried on the family business allowing his parents to enjoy their retirement. Currently they were in between pruning and harvest so it was a welcome respite for all of them. Henry and Collette wanted to ask Louis about his life, but he was tired, having come all the way from Strasbourg with only a nap on the train. However he promised them chapter and verse after breakfast the next day. Louis kissed his father’s head and gave Collette a hug and retired for the night.

He had a wonderful night’s sleep, the country air was certainly doing him good already, the sun was already streaming its yellow light through the open shutters of his window, and everything seemed well with the world. Collette however, came into his room looking none too pleased.

‘Louis, can you come downstairs a moment, your father has got something to show you darling.’ She turned so he couldn’t see her face. He grabbed a shirt and trousers and followed her downstairs into the great kitchen. There was an English newspaper on the big pine table fully spread out, and his father was looking up at him expressionless.

‘What is it dad, it can’t be that bad can it?’

Henry turned the open newspaper around and Louis looked closer. Henry pointed to a small picture and he looked closer at it. The picture was a little grainy and not too clear, but there was no mistaking her, it was Leah-May Owen. The headlines read: ‘
Talented art historian found dead in the Thames. The police are looking for three men last seen accompanying her from a bar in Soho. They have no other leads as yet, but are treating her death as murder
.’

The shock of the news hit him very hard at that moment, then even harder when he realised that he was the reason for his daughter’s death. If she hadn’t contacted him that day with details of the lost artefacts, she would be still alive. Instead of jumping up and wanting to rush back to England, he just sat in the chair and put his head down in silence. Then something came to him, so that he had to ask his father a favour.

‘Dad, before I take my leave of you, I want to tell you the whole sorry story of my life between when I left you to meet Aunt Ruth, that day after your wedding, and right now, will you listen, and then give me some advice please?’ Collette excused herself as she went to make breakfast for them. His story was long and painful, but he didn’t hold anything back from Henry. They talked for several hours, they had eaten two meals and now the sun was disappearing into the western horizon, causing the sky to be flushed with red. Louis looked at the sky and smiled to himself. ‘Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight’, he recalled the old saying, but as he contemplated on the next day, there was little delight for him to look forward to.

‘So dad please tell me what to do, I’m all out of ideas.’ Louis looked despairingly at Henry.

‘I can only answer you, my boy, like this.’ Henry said. ‘If I was in your position I would firstly get a plane to London and try to find that young man who worked with my granddaughter and find out if you can, any clue to what he knows. Victor, that was his name, wasn’t it?’ Henry asked, and Louis nodded. ‘Also, if you were able to find out who did this, I fear for your own life son, if you try to seek some sort of revenge. Don’t forget the wonderful things you did to help those Jewish people get their belongings back, I know that you have sacrificed a lot, but please, I don’t want to be going to your funeral son.’

Louis kissed his seated father on his balding head, and asked Collette if she would ring the airport at Marseilles and book him a flight to London, and in the morning drive him to the Marseilles Provence Airport. She gave him a quick hug and went to do his bidding.

As he sat on the plane to Gatwick, having had only two days with his father and step mother, he wondered when he would get the chance to see them again. Seeing his father in his advancing years, had hit him hard, mainly because he had seen so little of him since the age of sixteen. It weighed heavily on him, but not as heavily as what he had to do in London; identify his only daughter’s body. A wonderful future cut so short, he pondered.

The white marble-like features looked back at him as he shook with pain. The staff at the mortuary gave him space and time alone with her remains. As he leant over to kiss her face, his tears dropped on her closed eye and he whispered to her ‘Revenge will be mine, my darling to my last breath, revenge.’

From that moment he knew what he had to do, - find Victor and get him to talk. As he walked through the huge concourse area of Waterloo Station, his mind was focussed on getting to Southampton and getting some help from his only friend there, Mark. He had dealt with all of his legal work, albeit not that much, mainly in respect of deaths, Aunt Ruth’s and Esther’s. Also he dealt with all his property transactions’ including the sale of the bungalow, and the little hideaway cottage in the New Forest he had for a while. He had rung Mark’s office at Williams and Smithson at The Bargates and was able to get an interview at ten the next day with him.

Eating his evening meal at the Novotel, just a stone’s throw away from the Southampton railway station, made him reflect on his usual status of ‘meal for one’. He recalled the two times that he was left alone in this state. The first was through choice. Henry, his father, had asked him to accompany him to France but at only sixteen years old he needed to find his own way in life. The second time however, was completely different. Now, the only two women in his life had been forcibly and terribly removed. Was this the reward for searching for Lewi’s legacy? Was it the ring, or was it the great cost of finding it?

As he walked up to the reception desk of the lawyer’s offices, he was looking forward to meeting Mark again. An accomplished lawyer in his own right, and yet so easy to approach and very friendly. He was about forty five years old, Jewish, and had another life apart from the law. His first love was music, particularly keyboards, and most weekends he could be found as a volunteer entertainer at any one of the large nursing homes in Bournemouth. He had a huge repertoire from classical to pop. He had a particular type of music that was frequently requested by the residents which was ‘music hall’. His rendition of ‘on Mother Kelly’s doorstep’ went down a storm with many of the older folk.

Mark often made Louis howl with laughter with his humorous stories, one of which was Louis’s favourite. One particular lady would sit next to Mark whilst he was playing, and he would ask her if she would like to request anything. Every time her reply was the same. ‘Silence, young man all I want is silence!’ She would shout at the top of her voice.

Before Louis was able to begin with his prearranged list of points, Mark told him that someone had been asking to meet him. This suddenly put him off his guard, but then Mark told him that it was in fact the current owner of the cottage he once lived in, and the owner had mentioned that he would quite understand if he declined. Louis did not decline and said that it would be a good idea and he would consider it.

Surprisingly his lawyer told him that nothing could be done legally about Leah-May as the police were still investigating her death. He did say however that the police had agreed to use him as the go between and Mark promised that he would keep his client informed of any developments in that area.

Louis hired a small Suzuki four wheel drive, as he knew what the area was like where he was going. As soon as he was out of the city, he felt a lift from all the dark clouds that were surrounding him. He was intrigued about the mysterious Edmund and hoped that there could be some mutual benefit from their meeting. He smiled to himself as he drove down the bumpy drive and on reaching the cottage he was pleased to see a Toyota pickup parked at the back, so he parked there too. He admired the carport that had been built with a little sports car underneath it.

‘Hello, can I help you?’ the man asked.

‘Sorry I was just admiring the car shelter, a good idea for the little Morgan.’ Louis smiled and walked towards the man, who had a collie standing next to him. ‘I’m Louis Owen; I believe you have been asking about me.’

The man smiled and proffered his hand. Good to see you, Louis. My name is Edmund and it’s great to meet you, the previous owner of the cottage, yes?’ Louis nodded and Edmund indicated to him to step inside. He sat in the other chair and the dog came up to him and sat down beside him. ‘This is Zowie, she is a very friendly dog, less than a year old I think.’ Edmund said.

As they sat down with a mug of tea, Edmund got down to the reason why he had enquired about Louis, thinking that they might have met somewhere in the past. Louis noticed a faint accent in his speech so he asked whether he came from Derbyshire, and his host said that he did. After a while they got around to where they went to school. Although they were born in the same year, and went to the same infants school, but had different teachers. Edmund remembered Danny Sanderson though, and screwed his face up when he mentioned the tripe shop his father ran. Louis found this hilarious and told him that they had found the first thing in common; disgusting tripe.

When Louis told his host about the senior school he went to, Edmund asked if he knew Paul Arlington. He told his guest that he and Paul had left the town that they were born in, a few years after leaving school, and went to explore in France.

Louis smiled and said that he did, particularly about Paul’s footballing prowess. He remembered reading in the local paper about his trial with Aston Villa.

Edmund filled him in with some of Paul’s acting successes, especially in New York, where he still lived. Louis was speechless on hearing that. He could see already that they were going to be good friends when suddenly the dog barked and ran to the door. Edmund explained that it was time for a walk, and he asked whether Louis would like to visit his bench and with a broad smile he agreed. His shoes were not really the best for the journey, but he shrugged that off and was first out of the door. With Zowie as their guide they were soon sitting on the bench, Louis took a look at the plaque and remembered Esther and the pain he had felt after her suicide.

As they relaxed in the late morning sunshine, looking at the peaceful vista of the black pond, Edmund gave Louis a short history of his life, where he had ventured to into Spain and Portugal, but keeping the more serious items out, maybe for later. He did make his guest laugh when he told him about his and Paul’s escapades on the Forts in the Thames Estuary when they worked on the Pirate Radio station.

Louis was quiet after Edmund’s stories and he felt a little sad that he didn’t have a great deal of fun or excitement in his life. He finally plucked up the courage to tell him that a couple of days ago he had had to fly over from Marseilles to identify his only daughter’s body, which had been found in the Thames. Edmund just stared at his friend, shocked to the core. He couldn’t imagine having to do the same for his daughter Ellie. Louis let him catch his breath, and told him that the last time he had spoken to his daughter; she was working in Paris with a young colleague called Victor.

Edmund asked Louis whether she had told him where this Victor came from. He didn’t know that, but all she had said was that he had graduated from the same university in Southampton with an arts history degree. He told his host that he hoped to meet up with this Victor and perhaps he could shed some light on what had happened.

‘Look Louis, I know it’s a long shot but I was planning to visit some friends in Burley, and if you agree to come, you might see something that could help you.’ Edmund got up from the bench followed swiftly by his guest.

Louis followed the Toyota along the beautiful forest roads and soon they were in the village heading down Pound Lane, and coming to a halt opposite a row of small cottages. Edmund tapped on the door of the middle one, and an old lady answered the door and smiled at him as she gestured for them to enter the living room. After the introductions Edmund enquired after Sally and Harry pointed to the ceiling. Without asking he gathered that his dog was up with the young man in his bedroom.

‘Before you ask, Eddy, the doctor says that it’s best that he stays at home as it is only..’ Edmund put his arm around Fay and she didn’t hold back her tears.