One to Six, Buckle to Sticks (Grasshopper Lawns Book 11) Read online

  ‘Not the place for someone with millions, think on.’ Donald said drily and Vivian looked reproachfully at Edge, who shook her head.

  ‘I didn’t say a thing. He recognized her from some opera Toussaint-Wendell funded yonks ago.’

  ‘This robe thing is torn.’ Donald remarked, just as Maggie, who had been bristling and pulling, barked sharply.

  ‘Stupid to keep it.’ William opened the other cupboard door to shelves. ‘Just clothes and stocks. The man doesn’t want to run out of, what is this, toothpaste?’ He brought out four black tubes decorated with white grins and Edge did a double-take.

  ‘That’s the toothpaste Sylvia had with her in Frail Care! and it isn’t the kind he’s using in the bathroom!’

  ‘Good, because this robe proves nothing.’ Donald lifted the hanger out of the wardrobe. ‘It’s just a black silk dressing gown. The cowl and the mask are missing. Shut it, dog, we know it’s the one you tore.’

  Edge soothed Maggie as best she could, but the dog was bristling with rage and fell back to scrabbling at her muzzle with her front paws.

  ‘What the hell is upsetting her so much?’ William glanced around the room again. ‘He definately isn’t here, right?’

  The rondavels were simple round buildings, divided almost exactly in half with slightly more room given to the living area. The cordoned-off bit contained bathroom, cupboard space and a small kitchen. The main area had twin beds, bookshelves, two easy chairs under one window and a table with chairs positioned under the other. The room was untidy, but not remarkably so. One bed hadn’t been made, and a used coffee cup next to the portable sound system pinned down some papers scattered on the table, which fluttered slightly as a chilly gust made its way through the main door. William stepped back absently and nudged it closed with one of his sticks.

  ‘We should probably be careful not to touch anything.’ he warned. ‘I’ve a pricking in my thumbs here.’

  ‘Agreed.’ Donald looked ruefully at the hanger in his hand and re-hung the robe, closing the cupboard door with his elbow. ‘I touched the cupboard handle and the hanger. Edge?’

  ‘Nothing really. The bathroom door was ajar, and Maggie was pulling towards you guys, so I pushed it open with my shoulder to peer inside.’

  ‘I put my hand on the kitchen door—it was also ajar, so I didn’t touch the handle. This is really spooky.’ Vivian shivered and clutched her elbows. Maggie gave up on her attempts to remove her muzzle and tugged towards the kitchen door.

  ‘You said the outside door was open?’ Donald glanced at Vivian, who nodded. ‘The kitchen looked okay otherwise? No broken china?’ He hesitated, then added facetiously, ‘bloodstains on the floor?’ and earned himself an old-fashioned stare. ‘Aye, ken, that was stupid. We’re likely all spooked because of the cold in here, but I’ll go round the outside and look in from there. That toothpaste alone, though, we’ve enough to call the polis.’

  William helpfully opened the front door with the crook of his stick and Donald vanished round the curve of the building. After a moment the others followed him outside, Edge having to drag the dog which had gone silent but was still pulling with all her considerable strength back towards the kitchen, hackles on end and the whites of her bulging eyes very red.

  As they rounded the building they could see Donald picking his way cautiously towards the tiny courtyard area directly surrounding the kitchen door. It had a windbreak wall sheltering the courtyard from the prevailing wind, which also concealed the waste bins for the rondavel, and as they came into line of sight he stepped behind the wall. They saw him stiffen, then delicately stoop to examine something and William shuddered. He drew his coat tighter.

  ‘If he’s found another body.’ he remarked conversationally, ‘the polis will be employing him full-time as a bloodhound. Or arresting him. There must be a limit to how often you can find bodies without coming under suspicion.’

  ‘Three, probably.’ Edge responded lightly, but tightened her grip on the lead. Maggie, who had been staring back the way they had come, twitched as the wind changed and suddenly leaped past Edge, nearly jerking her off her feet as the lead snapped taut. William grabbed her free arm to steady her.

  ‘Definately something there, I’m thinking. Do you want me to hold the beastie? She’ll have you off your feet any minute now.’

  ‘I think I’ve got her now and look, Donald’s coming back. We can get the hell out of here.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Tuesday—Kirsty to tea

  ‘You know very well I can’t talk to the public during an on-going investigation.’ Kirsty tucked her feet under her in her favourite chair in Edge’s apartment and accepted a cup of coffee, smiling up at her offended aunt. ‘But under the circumstances Iain has given me a few crumbs. I have to swear you to secrecy first—yes, I know. You can tell your buddies. But no one else. And honestly, aunt, I’ll be in such trouble if it gets out, you really must promise me.’

  ‘Of course I promise. Donald said the body was a terrible mess so we have just been assuming it was the rondavel man, were we right?’

  ‘You were. And you were also right about it being Sylvia’s nephew. It was a very nasty killing. He bought a pie at the top shop around three o’clock for his supper, and the autopsy shows he died about two hours after he ate it, we’re assuming at around eight o’clock. Whoever did it put tape over his mouth to muffle his screams, then shot him in each knee, then in the testicles and finally—quite a bit later, according to the lab techies—put the shot through his eye that killed him. Very small gun, the kind that could be concealed in a pocket, or tucked in a sock. He must have gone outside to the bin, and been trapped there, because it’s odds on he wouldn’t have opened the door to anyone.’

  They were both silent for a few minutes, then Kirsty sighed and went on with what the police had established so far. ‘You know he’d been living here on a two-year ancestral visa. That was expiring, right enough, and he did have to leave. We think that initially he looked Sylvia up to see if he could charm her into buying his next ticket back to the UK. Then when she was so delighted, mebbe he thought he was onto a really good thing. Anyway, when he turned up dead we got back to the polis in Sydney, gave them the Australian mobile number on Simon’s phone, and they got hold of the guy who had been pretending to be him.’

  ‘Aiding and abetting a murderer? So William was right? I thought bringing someone else into a murder was way too risky.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Kirsty disagreed, and drank more coffee. ‘The guy seems genuinely devastated. It’s happened before, you know. Someone on a visa has to leave by a certain date but it’s really inconvenient, instead he books a ticket home, but also a round-trip ticket to return here in, say, three to four months’ time. Which Simon had done, for July, we know that because Sylvia paid for it. Anyway, what happens is a friend, somebody who looks superficially like the passport holder, takes the ticket and the passport, off to Australia for a six month experience, and back they come. Our wee Colonial has had six months extra in the UK and can then return home on the second half of the holiday ticket. The pal gets a holiday and, usually, thinks nothing of it. It isn’t generally done to set up an alibi, after all. This guy—Malcolm, his name is, Simon was using his name here—told the polis that Simon had found out he had a rich aunt and wanted to stick around. Malcolm saw no harm in it; they all thought it was a pretty good deal and he was really chuffed about a few months in another country. Simon’s girlfriend, Alison Martin, wasn’t quite so keen, but Malcolm confirmed that she was a bit scunnered that Simon wouldn’t introduce her to the aunt. He had no idea she’d been killed, and he was genuinely horrified. He was her friend, rather than Simon’s, and happy to tell us what little he knew. Simon had been dealing drugs, more in a social way than big-time, enough to keep himself in funds. This could be a drug killing, but Simon was a very small fish in a very big pool. We can’t rule out that his supplier and he fell out during a handover, but whatever gun was used, it’s
nothing the drug gangs usually use. From what the techies say, it was barely more than a peashooter, would have no stopping power at all except at very short range, no drug baron would look at it twice. Very nasty, mind you—its bullets can penetrate soft tissue, but once they hit bone they fly to pieces. He must have died in absolute agony. The whole thing looks more like a revenge murder for Alison’s death and we’ve no leads at all for that.’

  ‘And the toothpaste?’ Edge asked eagerly and Kirsty pulled a face.

  ‘Och, like I said before, he was a slimy wee scunner. Three of them were scoured out and filled with his stash, the fourth still had toothpaste and had been doctored the way Sylvia’s was. We don’t know the exact drugs as we’re still waiting on the techies, but the doctoring had been done by injecting it into the toothpaste. Not very expertly, either; some days Sylvia would have absorbed a higher dose through her gums than others, so no wonder she was all over the place. He had Australian soundtracks on a CD, too, clever stuff, to play in the background when he was on the phone. Australian talk show on TV, pub noises with talking and laughing, another with office phones ringing and people talking quietly. Even one which sounds like he was walking out of a noisy pub to take the call. Could have got himself a good job doing Fosters ads instead of going to the dark side.’

  ‘He poisoned Froufrou, too, the sod, so Sylvia’d be unprotected and even more stressed. Can’t be sorry he’s dead, but who killed him?’

  ‘Aye, well that’s why Iain said I could tell you things. He’s assuming you’ve already worked that out?’ But Kirsty was smiling as she said it.

  ~~~

  Vivian knocked at the door minutes after Kirsty left. ‘Can I come in? I was watching for Kirsty going, and I’ve lots of news—I finally tackled Dallas on the Wendell thing. And I would quite possibly kill for a cup of strong tea, if there’s any going. She said she’d been half-expecting me to say something today, that some man with a Scottish accent had phoned the offices asking for her. William or Donald, I suppose. Anyway, she’s told me the whole story.’

  She sat down quite heavily as Edge brought the kettle back to the boil and made tea for them both, then sat expectantly facing her. For a moment longer she was silent, stirring the tea that Edge handed her and gazing absently into space.

  ‘I’ll tell it as she told me. Some bits we knew, some bits we didn’t. The Toussaint-Wendell Group was founded by Jacob Toussaint, who had no sons but four daughters. Sarah Toussaint, my mother, married Oliver Wendell, who became CEO and later full partner. Dallas inherited her shares, but also from one of the other sisters, the one who left her the letter. The aunt had also left her a warning, about me, and she decided she had to meet me in person. She said it wasn’t something she could leave to anyone else, even though she doesn’t normally meet people. She wanted to see me for herself, what kind of a person I was, how likely it was that I would firstly find out, and secondly whether I would sue to get my inheritance.’

  Edge sat back, literally unable to speak for a moment. ‘Good grief, Patrick was holding forth on that at lunch on Friday. About not trusting anyone’s opinion but your own, and meeting people face to face. But how could you sue? Both of Jacob Toussaint’s daughters knew she was a—well, a cuckoo— when they left her their shares.’

  ‘But Jacob Toussaint didn’t. He left a small block of shares for any and every grandchild, and I’m one. She needed to get to know me, to find out if she could offer me the shares she inherited from him without me getting greedy and trying for all of hers, too. Which I could do, as a nuisance claim, for a much bigger pay-out, because otherwise the group would be facing years of legal uncertainty. Not only me, but she says my claim endures through my children and my children’s children. I’d have to sign a private contract relinquishing all rights to the rest of her shares in perpetuity. As far as the official record is concerned, I’d buy the equivalent of the Jacob Toussaint shares, at face value, which is a fraction of their real value already, and when the group goes public, they’ll be worth close on a million pounds. She can’t give me voting shares, of course, but she’s offering very generous alternatives. All those rumours they’re about to go public, this is what’s been holding it up. They can’t until this is resolved. Not with a threat like mine hanging over the ownership.’

  The two women stared at each other and Edge puffed air in a silent phew.

  ‘How much are we talking about? For his shares?’

  ‘That’s partly why I came to you. It’s peanuts to her, peanuts in view of the stakes, but even at face value it works out to one hundred thousand. That’s pretty much my nest egg, to be honest. Everything else is tied up in trust for the kids. I would never normally dream of investing it all in one place but—and please don’t think I’m silly—there is a real temptation to have some connection to my grandfather, even though I never met him. I don’t want to make the decision emotionally, though. I had to talk to somebody.’

  ‘You need to speak to Patrick, or your own guy.’ Edge shook her head helplessly. ‘Honestly, I couldn’t possibly advise you!’

  ‘That’s part of the problem.’ Vivian looked hunted. ‘I don’t have a guy, as you put it. I go through a brokerage firm but they doesn’t advise me, they just buy and sell when I tell them to, and occasionally recommend, and I use their accountants for my taxes. Anyway, keeping this quiet would be a condition of the contract—protecting our mothers’ reputations, apart from anything else.’

  ‘It’s an amazing opportunity.’ Edge conceded. ‘If you’ve got the hundred thousand in liquid capital, it would be hard to resist. And by the way, wow, well done Gordon, just proves mony a mickle maks a muckle!’

  ‘I’ve got seventy-five thousand I can free up pretty easily, I think.’ Vivian shot her a sideways look. ‘I did wonder—before I work on the rest—whether you wanted to come in? ‘

  ‘Oh!’ Edge sat upright. ‘Join the adventure? But Patrick has my money locked up in all sorts of stuff, I could never raise twenty-five! Five, definitely. Maybe even ten.’

  ‘Well, do you remember William saying he had that windfall? Turns out he has around ten grand he was planning to invest. And Donald said he was in a similar position. What do you think? What about a little Grasshopper consortium? It could be fun. We have to remember not to mention the contract, or any of the background to anyone, keep that between you and me. As far as anyone else is concerned, there’s a family connection and the chance to buy Toussaint-Wendell shares before they go public.’

  ‘Donald will be completely up for it, he’s already wondered whether you would ask her.’ Edge said emphatically. ‘What the hell, I’m in, let’s do it! I’ll have to run it past Patrick but I’ll use the same story you’re telling the others. I won’t be able to reach Patrick now, but I can transfer the five grand to you from my ISA, and get him to top it up tomorrow. Do you want to tackle Donald? Because I happen to know that right now he’s doing laundry.’

  ~~~

  Donald was folding dried clothes while the new industrial-size tumble-drier worked on his towels, but he wasn’t alone. William, perched precariously on a rather stressed-looking plastic chair, was talking with great animation, his free hand drawing circles in the air.

  ‘Busted!’ Edge said indignantly, pointing accusingly at the Styrofoam cup William was lifting to his lips as they walked in. ‘When I think how rude you’ve been about my coffee in the past, and I find you drinking the mud from this ghastly dispensing machine!’

  ‘Ah, haud your whisht, cailleach.’ William was completely unabashed. ‘As hot brown liquids go, it isn’t bad. I needed a drink, and the cold water from the machine tastes like a beastie got in there and died a little while back.’

  ‘It’s the same water for both.’ she pointed out and Donald grinned.

  ‘Don’t argue. If he goes, that leaves me alone with the ghostie. Unless you’ve come to take over. Or is this a surprise party?’

  Vivian launched into the very abbreviated version of the shares story, and
Donald was nodding almost before she finished. ‘Toussaint-Wendell shares? I’m absolutely in. Put me down for ten grand.’

  ‘Now, just a minute.’ William’s chair creaked as he shifted, and he looked briefly alarmed. The chair held, and he turned a stern gaze on Vivian. ‘Are we talking ordinary shares? Preference? Redeemable?’

  ‘Preferred, but convertible. And redeemable.’ Vivian told him crisply, and Donald and Edge exchanged glances.

  ‘They’re talking in tongues.’ he said resignedly, opening the drier to check his towels. ‘Or do you know what they’re on about?’

  ‘Not really, Patrick does all that talking in tongues stuff for me. But I think convertible is good, he always seems to recommend that. I think preferred shares pay a fixed dividend so you lose out if the share value goes much higher, unless you can convert? And they’re not voting shares, only the family has those.’

  William and Vivian were beaming at each other, having finished their almost unintelligible exchange. ‘I’m in, and can also do ten. We’ll need to set up a little consortium agreement. When can we get together with Dallas to sort out the shares side?’

  ‘Well.’ Vivian was looking happier, her eyes bright. ‘It’s my non-birthday tomorrow. Dallas’s as well, of course. She suggested we do it tomorrow afternoon, followed by dinner with lots of champers to celebrate, her treat. If we can set up the agreement, and you can transfer the money to my share account by then—there’ll be no problem with mine, my brokers will set up the funds—we can do it as a non-birthday celebration.’

  ‘Sorted.’ Edge looked at her watch. ‘Now that I’m dog free, Kirsty and I are meeting in town tonight to try the new curry place, so I’d better be getting back if I’m still to transfer that money first. I’ll need your bank details, Vivian? Oh, and just to bring you up to date on what Kirsty told me—’ she looked outside the door first, to make sure no one could overhear them, then gave them the gist of the conversation.