The Wilt Inheritance (27 page)

He stopped as Wilt came in, tugging Eva behind him. Having forgotten the rude behaviour of Lady Clarissa earlier on, she said how sorry she was about Edward’s tragic end, and added that it would probably be best for all of them if the Wilts left the Hall immediately. They could ‘settle up’ later, once the police inquiry was over.

‘What do you mean by “settling up”?’ queried Flint.

‘The money that Lady Gadsley owes Henry for teaching Edward,’ replied Eva. ‘In the circumstances we’ll forget about the other costs we’ve incurred along the way.’

‘So the payment to Wilt was for tutoring your son and not for …’ Flint stuttered.

‘That’s what I said but you didn’t believe me,’ retorted Wilt. ‘And now that you have the Colonel’s body, you can easily find out if he was done to death or in fact died from something self-inflicted. There is a certain taste for alcohol in the family. You know where to find me in the event of any suspicious circumstances.’

‘Tell me, Flint, did you really believe I would have stayed anywhere near someone firing live ammunition? You know me too well to believe that. Just as you already knew it was highly unlikely I could ever have killed anyone. I am really disappointed in you for considering it a possibility.’

From having three suspects, Flint and the Superintendent found themselves left with none. But the Superintendent had one last ace to play. ‘Perhaps Edward’s death was a case of death by accidental means or misadventure, but I’m still going to charge you, Sir George, with contravening the law by leaving a gun cabinet unlocked, a dereliction of duty which has inadvertently led to the demise of a young lad.’

At that Lady Clarissa took up her handkerchief and wailed convincingly that Sir George always kept it locked but Edward must have found the keys and helped himself to the gun. The Superintendent’s shoulders slumped. He was going to have to leave this place without charging anyone, not even the dreadful Sir George, and his dream of slapping the smug pseudo-aristocrat in irons and earning a slap on the back from the Chief Constable dissolved.

The Wilts departed, leaving Flint feeling once again, defeated and deflated. He’d been so sure that this time Wilt would not get away, but he had. Yet there were still so many questions left unanswered …

Why was the log put into the coffin?

Why strip the Colonel naked just to remove his medals?

Why was Wilt always there when there were bodies about?

And why was Flint the unlucky sod whose path had crossed Wilt’s in the first place?

Edward was buried in the family graveyard with Sir George officiating at the ceremony. At the same time the Colonel was cremated, but not before an autopsy had found no trace of any poison or suspicious substance. His remains were put into an urn and delivered to Lady Clarissa. His medals had finally been found by a sniffer dog borrowed from the local police force by Sir George, in return for his resignation from the bench, and were stuck inside the urn so that the Colonel would be symbolically reunited with his old regiment.

Clarissa flew to Kenya the next day with the urn travelling in her excess baggage. She spent a three-month holiday in several five-star hotels. The man
from the garage drove her to the airport and then, strangely, went missing for the next twelve weeks. When Lady Clarissa returned to Sandystones Hall she had a wonderful glow to her cheeks, but, as Mrs Bale was overheard to remark to the postman, no suntan.

While she was away Sir George borrowed the sniffer dog once again and tracked down his beloved Philly’s caravan. He welcomed the cook back into the kitchen and then into his bed. He died suddenly two months later but it was said that he had a wide grin on his face when the doctor was called to pronounce him dead. Whether it was one suckling pig too many or some other strenuous activity that his heavily clogged-up arteries could not support, no one would ever know for sure. When his will was read, as expected everything went to his wife – with the exception of the computer, fax and telephone in the secret lavatory which he left to Mrs Bale together with the torch.

The quads were reluctantly readmitted to their private school: Lady Clarissa had forked over the bonus plus the weekly fee she owed Wilt as she said it wasn’t actually down to him that Edward had failed to pass his university entrance exam. The Headmistress was very alarmed to see the girls arrive back armed with both mobile phones and iPods, but Wilt’s parting threat to them that he’d have all of their electronic equipment confiscated unless they stayed out of trouble for at least one term seemed to be working.

Back in Ipford, Wilt and Peter Braintree shared a pint at the Hangman’s Arms as they caught up with each other before the new term started. Peter had been looking forward to sharing his latest news with Wilt, and the latter more than fulfilled Peter’s expectations by being absolutely stupefied to hear that Fenland University was going to be closed down and a technical college re-opened in its place. Wilt sat back in his chair with his mouth half-open.

‘Good God, I never thought I’d live to hear that,’ he said. ‘I really didn’t. It’s incredible … and absolutely marvellous. The damned place should never have been opened in the first place, and wouldn’t have been if it hadn’t been for that lunatic Mayfield and his crony Vark.’

‘You are forgetting that vile multi-billionaire crook Pinson who wanted to be in the House of Lords and donated a billion to the two main political parties to ensure he got in. That’s how Fenland was allowed to build such ghastly buildings and get away with it.

‘Talking of money, what will happen to us? I’ve just sent the quads back to boarding school and it costs a damn’ fortune.’

Peter thought for a bit.

‘I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what the authorities want us to do. Or what they intend to do, more to the point. They may want to bring in fresh lecturers. Or, then again, fresh subjects with old lecturers, like us.’

‘Do you think they’ll bring back Liberal Studies? I enjoyed being head of that, and I’m sick to death of bloody computers,’ said Wilt.

‘Goodness only knows, though the Government is frightfully worried about the huge unemployment figures and lack of skilled workers so I’d be surprised if we weren’t still swamped with youngsters signing up for one heavily promoted scheme or other. You’d only need the Government to bring back something along the lines of the 1944 Act, which included a compulsory hour of Liberal Studies a week, and then you’d be back in your old position pronto. But you’re already Head of Computer Studies, so come what may I don’t expect you’ll be for the scrap heap.’

‘Well, we’re still speaking English – just – so you’ll be all right as well. Perhaps we’ll all get better salaries in compensation for being downgraded from a so-called university.’

‘Oh, quite. In devalued pounds. Big deal,’ sighed Braintree. ‘I’ll get another round in.’

And at that, Wilt felt quite hopeful.

He’d deal with Eva and the quads when the next full-blown situation arose as he had no doubt it would. But he hoped to God it was a long way off.

I would like to thank my superb editor, Susan Sandon, for her immeasurable help and sound advice, and all her team at Random House for their continuous support and great enthusiasm. But most of all, my special thanks to my agent, Sonia Land, ever positive and always there for me whenever I hit a writer’s low ebb, and without whom this book might never have been finished. Her team, Leila Dewji and Gaia Banks at Sheil Land Associates, have been equally supportive and an author cannot ask for more.

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