A long short story that can’t be tamed – I never wanted to be an eyewitness – 6

Six

Given the time we had from getting off the helicopter and the pickup of Latanzio, Amy had managed to collect his wife Angelina and her two children, and Gianna and her son, Latanzio’s mistress whom very few knew about.

It transpired Amy’s people had only discovered the mistress by accident during a surveillance mix-up. It was, in Amy’s opinion, pure gold if it came to needing leverage, though she didn’t say what she might need leverage for.

Both were kept in separate rooms in different parts of the underground complex, each with their own guards.

And, what’s more, the wife had no idea her husband had a mistress, and even though she doubted his fidelity, it was not something a woman in her position could talk to anyone about because there was no knowing who she could trust, or whether it would get back to her husband with disastrous consequences.

Trust in anyone when being married to such a man, was non-existent. To a degree, I felt sorry for her, though she had to know what she was getting into because he’d been a part of the family crime business from a very early age. And, for that matter, so had she, but in her case of my was unfortunate in that she had very little chance of picking who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

It seemed that being a Latanzio caused a great deal of grief for anyone who knew him or got in his way.

Both rooms were set up with CCTV cameras, and we were recording everything. Amy wasn’t expecting much from their conversation, if there was any, as it was well known that Angelina was kept out of the loop deliberately.

As I sat in front of the monitors, set up in a room well away from the holding rooms, I could see Amy over on one side talking earnestly to a man I had not seen before, but the suit told me he was some sort of law enforcement, perhaps a superior and they were planning the next move

I slipped on the headphones at just the right moment, Latanzio being escorted into the room where Angelina was being kept.

She watched him come in, the door closed, but I could see him gesture for her not to speak.

In a few seconds, he had summed up the room, the two cots provided for the children who were asleep, a state Amy had arranged to spare them the memories of being there, and then a glance at his wife which didn’t spark much of a reaction.

There was still a degree of residual anger in his manner, still trying to come to grips with the manner of how this escape was being run.

The lack of any outside communication. Or news on what was happening might become a concern at some point so it would be interesting how Amy handled it.

I had seen the surveillance reports and it seemed that for a married couple, they spent a lot of time apart, but that was mainly due to the fact she had insisted he not bring his work home, and that gave her plausible deniability.

And, because of that position, there was no surprise it had led to the affair. Although Angelina had not mentioned it to anyone, whether she knew about it or not, there was no doubt in my mind she did but may have not known who it was.

When she did, it was going to be a very interesting few minutes.

He knew the room was bugged, but may not necessarily suspect he was on CCTV given the time frame in getting this together. Perhaps he had been looking for obvious cameras as he came in, and during the time the guards removed the cuffs and shackles and saw none.

I hadn’t either until she showed me.

Not even a close inspection would find any cameras, but there were several obvious points where microphones were placed so he’d find them, enough that after he had discovered them, he would believe the room was clean.

As with most parts of the underground complex, it had been made over by a team of very experienced set decorators. I had seen the before and the after and it was difficult to believe it was the same place.

I watched him systematically search and find four devices, and after the last, the triumphant expression.

“So, why am I here?” Angelina asked after he had finished his search.

“I was told that we would be removed to a safe location “

“But you don’t think so?”

“This whole operation doesn’t feel right. If Benny had arranged this, we would not be languishing in a dump like this.”

“Who then?”

“Either one of the Carmichaels or the cops.”

“Why would the cops kidnap you? They already had you in custody.”

He didn’t answer, but I could see he was weighing the possibilities, and in his position, given he hadn’t been executed, which by my understanding of the rivalry between the two families, the only option if they had been responsible for his liberation.

So that left his own people or in his mind, the police. It seemed to me if it had been his brother, another of our guests, he would not be languishing in that small room, and Benny would be there to greet him.

I wondered briefly whether we had been too clever.

From what I understood of the operation, no one knew what we had been planning and then executed it, and outside the world we had created, all hell was breaking loose. It had to be done this way for realism and having a legitimate reason to scoop up all of the necessary parties associated with him, operations that would have failed without the right background.

To every media outlet, he had been taken in a daring raid on the prison transfer convoy. That in itself had been a carefully staged scene, right down to the last detail including ambulances for the injured guards. But it wouldn’t take long before questions would be asked.

But, for now, he was the subject of a city-wide manhunt, and it was also noted that both his brother and his family were also missing, and the Carmichaels were top of the police department list of suspects.

“Frankly,” he said, I have no idea what’s going on, but if this is Benny’s doing, he’s not doing a very good job of it. We should be a long way away from here.”

“You might think so, but I’d say we’re lucky we’re still alive. Do you have any idea what’s going on outside? Did you ever consider that it’s your actions that have brought this on? Benny told me you killed someone, which can’t be true because you promised me you would not be like your father.”

“I’m nothing like my father, and you don’t want to believe everything Benny tells you.”

“This isn’t the first time, is it? I told you I didn’t want to know about your business, and I trusted you to keep your word. Trust, I’m afraid, that was misplaced. I listened to your lies when the police accused you of murdering some rival not wanting to believe it was true, and now, on top of that, the police say you’ve either kidnapped or killed some guy who witnessed that murder. I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt, now it’s time to tell me the truth.”

“It a frame-up. The cops have been accusing me of everything they can’t solve, and none of it’s true. I swear. But this isn’t the time or the place to be talking about such matters.”

“No, perhaps not. But tell me this, if you’ve got Benny to break you out of custody, that doesn’t strike me as the actions of an innocent man. An innocent man would stay and take his chances in a court of law.”

“A court of law that’s stacked against me. All they have is circumstantial evidence. All they’ve ever had is circumstantial evidence.”

“Because all the so-called witnesses either disappear, recant their testimony, or turn up dead. This has to end, if only for the children’s sake.”

Angelina, then, was no fool. She knew exactly who it was she married, and I suspect she had, until now, overlooked the lies. And in saying what she had, she was taking a very big risk.

“Like I said, this is neither the time or the place to be discussing such matters, so you will stop talking or there will be consequences.”

Even from where I was viewing the discussion, and in particular Angelina, I could plainly see he had hit a raw nerve.

I felt a hand on the back of my chair and looked up. Amy had returned and was looking at the monitor. She had put on the other headphones but left one ear uncovered.

I did the same.

“What have I missed,”

“A joyous reunion, not. I think Angelina is about to wring a confession of sorts out of the bastard.”

We both went back to the screen.

“Is that a threat, Tony?”

Her voice had changed, not the sound of a wife who was disappointed, or was tired of her husband’s lies. This was different.

“What do you mean? No. I wouldn’t threaten you, or anyone.” Slightly apologetic.

There was a change in the atmosphere in that room, and he had lost some of that bravado.

“Then you’d better remember that. When we get out of here, you will be having a discussion with my father. He had been taking a keen interest in your recent activities, and he tells me you have been indiscreet. He wouldn’t tell me what it’s about, but I will find out, and you better not have broken your promise.”

With that, the conversation was over. Perhaps there was more to Angelina than I first thought.

…

Writing a book in 365 days – 209

Day 209

Put it in your own words

…

What exactly does that mean these days?

Perhaps before the advent of computers and spell checkers and grammar checkers, and the vast array of writing helpers available, our writing was our own.

You know, getting sheets of paper, drawing lines on them, filling up the ink well and having a supply of ink available, then with your feather, or purposely made pen and nib, got stuck in.

What came out of your head went down on paper, the nib scratching its way along the lines, and thoughts tumbled out.

It may not have made any sense, but it was your own.

Except, of course, you decided deliberately or otherwise that you would copy someone else’s wprl either verbatim or very thinly disguised. Yes, there have always been lazy cheats.

I like to think that it was the exception rather than the rule.

Nowadays, you don’t ever have to write at all. Just a few plot points, and the story is written for you.

No effort, no putting it in your own words. And unfortunately, it is probably eminently readable.

What is the point?

I will never surrender to AI. I use spell checkers, but they have very strange ideas sometimes. It simply means you need to know how to spell. It can’t be that hard. We all went to school and learned the rudiments of our language.

Or maybe not. Not if the rumours about students and teachers’ abilities are remotely credible. I mean, spend half an hour in a crowded pub after the end of the word day, and the conversational language used is terrible.

It seems no one can string a sentence together without at least three or four profanities. And our regard for others?

Perhaps a story about ordinary people would be very uninteresting, and we would all have to migrate to a fictional world where respect and conversation without profanities still exist.

So much for the modern youth writing in their own words.

But I digress…

I’m sure that on some level, we all like the idea of picking up a book or reading one using an e-reader that doesn’t have that language or disrespect.

After all, books are what take us into a different world than our own, into the imagination of the writer who has, hopefully, toiled long and hard to put his or her masterpiece down on paper in their own words.

Writing a book in 365 days – 209

Day 209

Put it in your own words

…

What exactly does that mean these days?

Perhaps before the advent of computers and spell checkers and grammar checkers, and the vast array of writing helpers available, our writing was our own.

You know, getting sheets of paper, drawing lines on them, filling up the ink well and having a supply of ink available, then with your feather, or purposely made pen and nib, got stuck in.

What came out of your head went down on paper, the nib scratching its way along the lines, and thoughts tumbled out.

It may not have made any sense, but it was your own.

Except, of course, you decided deliberately or otherwise that you would copy someone else’s wprl either verbatim or very thinly disguised. Yes, there have always been lazy cheats.

I like to think that it was the exception rather than the rule.

Nowadays, you don’t ever have to write at all. Just a few plot points, and the story is written for you.

No effort, no putting it in your own words. And unfortunately, it is probably eminently readable.

What is the point?

It seems no one can string a sentence together without at least three or four profanities. And our regard for others?

Perhaps a story about ordinary people would be very uninteresting, and we would all have to migrate to a fictional world where respect and conversation without profanities still exist.

So much for the modern youth writing in their own words.

But I digress…

I’m sure that on some level, we all like the idea of picking up a book or reading one using an e-reader that doesn’t have that language or disrespect.

A long short story that can’t be tamed – I never wanted to be an eyewitness – 5

Five

The main door to the warehouse opened and we drove in.

The look on Latanzio’s face was one of surprise, but also knowing. He didn’t say anything yet.

Once inside and the roller door lowered, gradually immersing us into a murky half-darkness, the van stopped. I thought I heard a collective sigh of relief just before everyone started to move.

Latanzio’s chains connecting his feet, and the one from his feet to his hands were removed, but not the cuffs and I dragged him out of the van, closing the door with an emphatic bang reverberating in the empty space.

The whole operation took just over a minute. The guards got back in the van without saying a word, their role over. Just as the engine started the door started going back up, and before it reached the top they had driven out and roared off. I waited until the door had closed again.

That was when he spoke for the first time. “You can remove the cuffs now.” I had deliberately left the hand cuffs on, and although it limited his movements, he had an opportunity to escape, if he wanted to get shot in the back, because if he tried I would have no hesitation in shooting him.

I hadn’t seen anyone else about when we first arrived, but then, up on the mezzanine I could just see several guards with rifles stationed in the shadows. If anyone had tried to force their way in behind us, they would not have lasted very long.

I didn’t speak, just dragged him up the passage towards the room where I thought Amy would be waiting.

He stopped, once, halfway up the passage, and tried to shrug me off. “What the hell is going on here. Where are my people?”

I gave him what I thought was one of my death stares before saying, rather savagely, “We can do this the hard way or the easy way. The hard way, I shoot you and drag you up the passage. One way or the other we’ll get to our destination. It’s up to you how you arrive.”

“Just who the hell are you?”

“If you keep talking, maybe the last person you’ll see alive. Move. Now.”

He was wise enough not to argue just then. He had been liberated from police custody, he had to accept for the moment it was best to follow instructions, something I guess he wasn’t used to.

We went through the large steel-clad door that separated the building we arrived in with the one next door. If anyone came looking for us, they would only get as far as a door that would be locked on the other side and look as though it hadn’t been opened since the dawn of time.

As soon as I slammed it shut and rammed home the bolts, a team on the other side were doing their job as set decorators.

They didn’t have very long, perhaps 10 minutes, 20 at most before everyone discovered Latanzio was missing.

As soon as we were on the other side, Amy appeared with a gun in hand. It was not aimed at him but held loosely at her side. A room had been set up as a sound studio, and we had four cameras on us, recording everything.

“Who are you?” Latanzio asked her abruptly.

“The person who orchestrated your escape from custody. You don’t look very grateful though?”

“Believe me I am, except for this bozo. Where did you find him? And how about taking off these cuffs?”

We were in a large room, where Amy had put a chair in the middle. On the opposite side to where we were standing there was another door. That led to several other rooms where Amy said there were surprise guests waiting.

“First, you have to sit down. We have a few issues to sort out.”

He looked confused, but again, he was free, so it was probably a small inconvenience. After all, he had a lot of money that could smooth over any problem. Or so he believed.

He sat.

There were two other chairs for both Amy and I, and we sat down opposite him.

He started. “Whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can sort it out. What is it you want?”

“Money. And a lot of it. It isn’t going to be cheap getting you and your family to a safe haven.”

“Who said I wanted to leave. I can beat this rap. You heard the news; this so-called witness is missing. That means he’s either dead or didn’t exist in the first place. Either way, the DA’s got nothing.”

All true, if the witness was missing. And still he was not giving anything away.

“Then the question remains, why did a squad of anonymous men hit the hotel where alleged witness was staying, if you are saying there isn’t one?”

“I know nothing about that. What other people do, and their reasons for doing so, is their business, not mine.”

“Then why were we asked to break you out if you’re not guilty and can beat this charge. Seems logical, on what you’re saying, we should take you back. I’ve haven’t been paid yet, and this seems to be a colossal waste of my time. I need to have a discussion.”

She stood and started walking towards the other door.

“Who are you going to talk to if not me.”

She stopped and partially turned.

“You are just the subject; my business is with the people who employed me to free you.”

“Who are they?”

“Oddly enough, I don’t really know, and for that matter, I don’t really care. But what I am sure of, it’s none of your business.”

I saw her motion to someone lurking in the shadows, and not one but two men came out into the open where we could see them. Armed with shotguns and surly expressions.

“Take him and put him in the room with his wife and children.”

“Angelina is here?” he said, somewhat surprised.

“Yes. Any your mistress, Gianna. It’s going to be interesting if they meet.”

He looked at me just as the two men arrived, each standing on one side of him.

“What the hell is going on here? This is not what I asked for. I was supposed to be rescued and taken to a safehouse. There were no orders involving family or anyone else.” There was just a slight note of fear in hos tone.

Amy had said that if Angelina’s father had found out he was having an affair, he was as good as a dead man. Her father took marriage very seriously.

It was clear Latanzio didn’t.

I shrugged. “I just do as I’m told. Best not to annoy her. She has a really bad temper, and I don’t think she likes you.”

I nodded, and the two men took him away.

Phase one was complete; put the fear God into him.

Five

The main door to the warehouse opened and we drove in.

The look on Latanzio’s face was one of surprise, but also knowing. He didn’t say anything yet.

Once inside and the roller door lowered, gradually immersing us into a murky half-darkness, the van stopped. I thought I heard a collective sigh of relief just before everyone started to move.

I didn’t speak, just dragged him up the passage towards the room where I thought Amy would be waiting.

He stopped, once, halfway up the passage, and tried to shrug me off. “What the hell is going on here. Where are my people?”

“Just who the hell are you?”

“If you keep talking, maybe the last person you’ll see alive. Move. Now.”

He was wise enough not to argue just then. He had been liberated from police custody, he had to accept for the moment it was best to follow instructions, something I guess he wasn’t used to.

As soon as I slammed it shut and rammed home the bolts, a team on the other side were doing their job as set decorators.

They didn’t have very long, perhaps 10 minutes, 20 at most before everyone discovered Latanzio was missing.

“Who are you?” Latanzio asked her abruptly.

“The person who orchestrated your escape from custody. You don’t look very grateful though?”

“Believe me I am, except for this bozo. Where did you find him? And how about taking off these cuffs?”

“First, you have to sit down. We have a few issues to sort out.”

He looked confused, but again, he was free, so it was probably a small inconvenience. After all, he had a lot of money that could smooth over any problem. Or so he believed.

He sat.

There were two other chairs for both Amy and I, and we sat down opposite him.

He started. “Whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can sort it out. What is it you want?”

“Money. And a lot of it. It isn’t going to be cheap getting you and your family to a safe haven.”

All true, if the witness was missing. And still he was not giving anything away.

“Then the question remains, why did a squad of anonymous men hit the hotel where alleged witness was staying, if you are saying there isn’t one?”

“I know nothing about that. What other people do, and their reasons for doing so, is their business, not mine.”

She stood and started walking towards the other door.

“Who are you going to talk to if not me.”

She stopped and partially turned.

“You are just the subject; my business is with the people who employed me to free you.”

“Who are they?”

“Oddly enough, I don’t really know, and for that matter, I don’t really care. But what I am sure of, it’s none of your business.”

I saw her motion to someone lurking in the shadows, and not one but two men came out into the open where we could see them. Armed with shotguns and surly expressions.

“Take him and put him in the room with his wife and children.”

“Angelina is here?” he said, somewhat surprised.

“Yes. Any your mistress, Gianna. It’s going to be interesting if they meet.”

He looked at me just as the two men arrived, each standing on one side of him.

Amy had said that if Angelina’s father had found out he was having an affair, he was as good as a dead man. Her father took marriage very seriously.

It was clear Latanzio didn’t.

I shrugged. “I just do as I’m told. Best not to annoy her. She has a really bad temper, and I don’t think she likes you.”

I nodded, and the two men took him away.

Phase one was complete; put the fear God into him.

Five

The main door to the warehouse opened and we drove in.

The look on Latanzio’s face was one of surprise, but also knowing. He didn’t say anything yet.

Once inside and the roller door lowered, gradually immersing us into a murky half-darkness, the van stopped. I thought I heard a collective sigh of relief just before everyone started to move.

That was when he spoke for the first time. “You can remove the cuffs now.” I had deliberately left the handcuffs on, and although it limited his movements, he had an opportunity to escape, if he wanted to get shot in the back, because if he tried I would have no hesitation in shooting him.

I didn’t speak, just dragged him up the passage towards the room where I thought Amy would be waiting.

He stopped, once, halfway up the passage, and tried to shrug me off. “What the hell is going on here. Where are my people?”

“Just who the hell are you?”

“If you keep talking, maybe the last person you’ll see alive. Move. Now.”

He was wise enough not to argue just then. He had been liberated from police custody, he had to accept for the moment it was best to follow instructions, something I guess he wasn’t used to.

As soon as I slammed it shut and rammed home the bolts, a team on the other side were doing their job as set decorators.

They didn’t have very long, perhaps 10 minutes, 20 at most before everyone discovered Latanzio was missing.

“Who are you?” Latanzio asked her abruptly.

“The person who orchestrated your escape from custody. You don’t look very grateful though?”

“Believe me I am, except for this bozo. Where did you find him? And how about taking off these cuffs?”

We were in a large room, where Amy had put a chair in the middle. On the opposite side to where we were standing, there was another door. That led to several other rooms where Amy said there were surprise guests waiting.

“First, you have to sit down. We have a few issues to sort out.”

He looked confused, but again, he was free, so it was probably a small inconvenience. After all, he had a lot of money that could smooth over any problem. Or so he believed.

He sat.

There were two other chairs for Amy and me, and we sat opposite him.

He started, “Whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can sort it out. What do you want?”

“Money. And a lot of it. It isn’t going to be cheap getting you and your family to a safe haven.”

All true, if the witness was missing. And still, he was not giving anything away.

“Then the question remains, why did a squad of anonymous men hit the hotel where the alleged witness was staying, if you are saying there isn’t one?”

“I know nothing about that. What other people do, and their reasons for doing so, is their business, not mine.”

She stood and started walking towards the other door.

“Who are you going to talk to if not me.”

She stopped and partially turned.

“You are just the subject; my business is with the people who employed me to free you.”

“Who are they?”

“Oddly enough, I don’t really know, and for that matter, I don’t really care. But what I am sure of, it’s none of your business.”

I saw her motion to someone lurking in the shadows, and not one but two men came out into the open where we could see them. Armed with shotguns and surly expressions.

“Take him and put him in the room with his wife and children.”

“Angelina is here?” he said, somewhat surprised.

“Yes. Any your mistress, Gianna. It’s going to be interesting if they meet.”

He looked at me just as the two men arrived, each standing on one side of him.

“What the hell is going on here? This is not what I asked for. I was supposed to be rescued and taken to a safe house. There were no orders involving family or anyone else.” There was just a slight note of fear in his tone.

Amy had said that if Angelina’s father had found out he was having an affair, he was as good as a dead man. Her father took marriage very seriously.

It was clear Latanzio didn’t.

I shrugged. “I just do as I’m told. Best not to annoy her. She has a really bad temper, and I don’t think she likes you.”

I nodded, and the two men took him away.

Phase one was complete; put the fear God into him.

…

Writing a book in 365 days – 207/208

Days 207 and 208

Writing exercise – A locked room mystery

…

Don’t you just love a mystery?

I don’t, but not one that is impossible to solve.

Impossible?

I was told that nothing is impossible, and there is always a logical answer to every problem.

I was also told there will always be people who will maintain that the impossible is because of the unexplainable, and we had to look more closely at things that were not of this world.

Those people, the logical people, call crackpots or charlatans.

There is the unexplainable, but in the end, when we look at all of the facts surrounding a situation, we always find an answer.

But…

We do have unsolvable crimes committed by real people who got away with it. We do not like to think there is such a thing as the perfect crime. It is preferable to believe the criminal was very lucky

The crime I was called to, on a dark day and in a sinister house, had all the hallmarks of a perfect crime: a dead body in a locked room that had only one exit, the door, locked from the inside.

At least, that was the first report I was given by my partner Detective Sargeant Wilson, newly promoted to the detective branch, enthusiastic, and it came out in an explosion of words.

At least she had arrived properly and hadn’t blundered around the crime scene like my last partner had when he first started.

Downstairs in the living room, occupying six of the seven lounge chairs set around the fire, warming those within a range of about twenty feet. Beyond that, there was a chill in the air, not all from the cold.

Outside, a shard of bright light was followed by a crack of rolling thunder, after which the rain became torrential. I half expected the roof to be leaking.

I was introduced to the six, each including the victim part of a group who paid a small fortune to stay the night in a “genuine” haunted house. The group were all from the same family: the grandfather, Anton Giles; the father, William Giles; his third wife, Lucy; William’s eldest son, David; his eldest daughter, Winnie; Oliver, and Bertie.

The family get-together was the grandfather’s idea. William Giles’ current wife was younger than all his children, and the animosity from those children could be felt in the room. It was obvious the grandfather had a reason, and looking around at the group, finding out what that was would be the same as extracting teeth.

It was also clear, from the venue’s management, of which the manager and two assistants were present, that the murder, mock or otherwise, was not part of the “entertainment.”

An inspection of the room, opened with a spare key by the manager when a preliminary search for Anton had failed to locate him, showed the other key was in the room; then the door was locked from the inside, the victim had been shot at point-blank range by someone he knew because there were no defensive wounds. The gun was next to the key, and Anton’s watch and wallet were missing, suggesting robbery with violence.

There were no secret doorways or entrances to the room other than the normal door. The cupboard, full of clothes, didn’t have a secret back. There was no trapdoor under the carpet, and there was no vent in the walls or roof big enough to take an escapee.

There were no guests or staff on the site or in the house; the caterers had left after dinner, and would not be back until morning, if the rain stopped, because my car was the last to get over the causeway. If it rained much more, we would be lucky to leave in the morning. I arrived alone, and my partner arrived a half hour earlier with three constables, one each at the exits.

No one was leaving.

One of the six, or one of the three staff members, could be the murderer.

When I came into the room, Wilson was standing by the fire, notebook at the ready. The six were seated by the fire, the three staff in the background. It was a large room, and it took a few seconds to reach the fireplace and get a first look at the family, as Wilson introduced them.

When that was done, I was about to speak when William Giles’ eldest son, David, said, pointing at his father’s latest wife, Lucy, “She did it.”

William glared at the son and said, “Don’t start this again. It’s clear you don’t like her, but she is not a murderer. You obviously, on the other hand, must have after he wrote you out of the will.”

“I did nothing of the sort. And we have only your word on that; he never said he had changed his will. Unless, of course, you have a newer will, but it would have to be a fake. He said he was not leaving anything to a paedophile.”

A clear reference to the father marrying a young girl. She didn’t look very old, but a quick ID check Wilson had called for would soon sort that out. Appearances were always deceptive.

“Let’s not forget how mortgaged to the hilt you are, Davey. Hopeless with money, always asking Gramps to bail you out. I heard home tell you there was no more in that well. No wonder you killed him. You got your own version of the will?”

All this talk of a will. Sometimes, it was useful to let the suspects banter.

But then, time for a question. “Was this gathering for another reason, other than bonding?”

Oliver snorted. “Bonding. Every time we get together, it’s a surprise one of us isn’t murdered, and now it’s happened. Greed, that’s what this family thrives on. We were here for an important announcement, and I’m guessing Anton was going to tell us if he was leaving us anything. Worth billions, he was. If you are looking for a motive detective, there it is.”

Whilst Wilson hadn’t contaminated the crime scene, the rest of the family had, once the door had been opened, and everyone would have fingerprints all over the room, and Winnie had fainted on seeing the body. It was, Wilson said, a dog’s breakfast.

It was a family accurate assessment. And worse, we could not get forensics in until the flooding subsided.

I noticed that Wilson collected all paperwork from the grandfather’s room, locked with the key in his pocket, odd because of the other missing items, and then after a quick search of the other rooms, but no will or anything to do with inheritances was found.

Equally odd, even though Wilson at the time was unaware of what she was looking for. Clearly, the old man had brought something with him, and the murderer may have taken it.

A call to the old man’s lawyer was next on the list. A change in the will would make things interesting.

“I did not kill Anton. He didn’t like me, true, but none of you do either, and none of you are dead if that’s your criterion. The rest of you children, well, I’d be disgusted to call you my own.”

It sounded weird to hear from a girl younger than all of them, sounding more mature than her years. It’s probably not. They all looked and sounded like they had a privileged upbringing.

I had wealthy parents and a boarding school education, but my parents made me work, starting at the bottom and earning my keep and respect the hard way. There was no free ride for any of us in our family. Whatever bias I might have had was left at the door.

“If this were a gathering to discuss inheritance, where are your grandfather’s papers? They were not in his room and were not stored in a house safety deposit box with other valuables, as management requested.”

I looked at each of the six faces, and the only one that didn’t bear intense scrutiny was Lucy. It might be that she had a guilty conscience or just that she squirmed under intense observation.

Or it was an indicator.

Wilson just returned and motioned for me to join her outside.

She handed me a carefully folded document that had ‘Last Will and Testament of Anton Giles’ dated two days before. I unfolded the pages and went to the last. It was unsigned.

A quick scan showed it was short and to the point. None of the family was going to inherit. Bottom line, there was nothing to inherit, the total sum up for grabs, a little more than ten thousand pounds.

“Where did you find it?”

“In Lucy’s underwear drawer.”

I sighed. “We’re not going to get one grain of truth out of any of them. How long between the murder and your arrival?”

“About three hours.”

“Long enough for all of them to search the house, his room, find out the truth, kill him, and get their stories straight.”

“Even the house staff?”

“All of them.”

“Do you think it was Lucy?”

“Because of this?” I held up the will. “No. I bet there are about twenty of them hidden around this place, and not one is the real will. The old man was playing with them, failing to realise how it would affect one of them. One of them may have the real will.”

“How will we know?”

Uf or when the next person dies.”

I might not have come to that conclusion if we had not found the fake will. This was more than a family bonding. This was a weekend deliberately designed to torment his child and grandchildren before delivering the bad news.

I should not have answered the Superintendent’s call.