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THE MAN WHO HAD BEEN masquerading as Horace Johnson for a decade gestured towards the kitchen table. ‘Perhaps you’d care to take a seat while I prepare the tea,’ he said in a voice that was not his own. At least, it was not the voice Simone and Dorothy were used to hearing. He spoke in clipped, precise accents and sounded very like James. This suggestion was greeted by a heavy silence which Marco chose to break.
‘Nelson’s dead,’ he said to nobody in particular. ‘He bought the farm years ago in a tragic boating accident. Jimbo, have you and this hairy dude been on the wacky backy?’
‘My brother faked his own death,’ James spoke through tight lips. ‘He’s been here all the time. Safe and well, not in the least bit dead, and living next door to none other than D-Ly.’
Clive cleared his throat, shuffled his feet and gave Dorothy a meaningful glance.
‘Perhaps we should do as Horace suggests and sit down so we can discuss the situation like grown-ups,’ she suggested brightly. ‘Shall I make the tea?’
‘There’s no need,’ Horace told her gravely. ‘Please take a seat and give me a minute.’
As he began to transfer mugs, cutlery, and a stainless steel jug of milk to the table, Dorothy slowly removed her coat and allowed Clive to hang it on the back of the door. Seeing her friend was all set to stay for a while, and experiencing a combination of shock and excitement at this latest development, Simone followed suit.
She was tempted to fire off a text to Charlie, but due to the incredibly sombre atmosphere that prevailed, thought better of it and reluctantly dropped her phone back into her bag before handing her jacket to Clive. She cheered herself with the thought there would be time aplenty to divulge the latest gossip when she got back to Howth. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.
Looking severe, Marco and Clive removed their jackets and hung them on the back of their chairs. Not quite sure where to sit, Dorothy took a seat next to Simone with her back to the door. Marco grabbed the chair at the end of the table near the dresser, leaving two seats near the fire for Jive.
As soon as Horace had laid the table to his satisfaction and put the teapot sitting on its trivet, he took his own place opposite Marco. He cast a sidelong glance at his brother, who remained mute. A pale faced James hung his head and chewed on his lower lip. Dorothy kicked Clive under the table to get his attention. He knew what she expected of him and silently cursed her.
‘Nelson, you might be interested to know you’ve never officially been declared dead,’ he spoke in his best police inspector voice. ‘Naturally there was an inquest, although the verdict was left open for the requisite seven years.’
‘Why was I not declared dead three years ago?’ Horace looked puzzled.
‘Because your mother refused to allow it,’ Clive told him with a hard edge to his voice. ‘She said she wouldn’t believe it until she saw your body. Said you were too good a sailor to have been washed overboard, and too good a swimmer to have drowned. She believed in you. With good reason it would seem.’
‘Mummy was always jolly fond of me,’ Horace cleared his throat and looked at Simone. ‘It’s good to see you, Si,’ he smiled at her. ‘How is Australia suiting you?’
‘Very well, thank you,’ Simone blinked at him in astonishment. ‘I have a partner now and a baby.’
‘That’s excellent,’ his smile widened. ‘Do you mind my asking whether your partner is a man or a woman?’
‘A woman,’ Simone’s jaw dropped. ‘You knew?’
‘I saw quite a lot of you prior to your departure for the antipodes,’ he explained gently. ‘Believe me, you had my deepest sympathy. Difficile est longum subito deponere amorem.’
‘What does that mean?’ she sounded a little teary.
‘It is difficult to suddenly give up a long love.’
‘I met Charlie about three months after I moved,’ Simone told him. ‘I fell madly in love with her and was able to let Dottie go. At least at a romantic level. But I couldn’t get past the shame I felt, which is why I didn’t come back to visit for so long. Things are much better between us now, although every once in a while Dottie makes a really mean comment. It’s my punishment for being so dishonest and such a crap friend.’
‘So you have salvaged the relationship?’ he looked interested.
‘Of course we have,’ Dorothy butted it. ‘I’m practicing forgiveness, and Si is practicing not being such a dumbass, lanky bitch dyke. It’s working out well for us.’
‘Lucky,’ Horace murmured.
There was an uncomfortable silence which Simone did her best to fill by pouring out the tea. Even though nobody had the stomach for it, they dispensed varying amounts of milk and sugar then stirred their mugs as if they could not wait to sample the brew. Horace spent a full minute stirring his own drink, all the while staring down into his chipped blue mug. When he eventually raised his head, he found Dorothy’s eyes riveted upon him.
‘How long have you been aware of the truth?’ he asked her.
‘Only since last Friday. I heard your brother reading from the newspaper. It helped that he was sitting behind a purple tea cosy at the time. The scales fell from my eyes like your man from the bible.’
‘Dottie, how does the reading thing fit in?’ Simone looked puzzled.
Clive pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought up the novel he had recently downloaded. He handed the gadget to Horace. ‘Read that,’ he ordered curtly.
Horace did not seem at all put out by this abruptness and pointed towards the dresser.
‘Please hand me my spectacles,’ he looked straight at Marco.
The driver swivelled around and took them from the dresser. He handed them to Dorothy, who passed them to Simone, who passed them to Horace. He balanced them on his nose, bent his head over the phone and began to read.
‘He was gone in a moment. His many-angled form sank into the darkness of the flinty tunnel, as swiftly as ever a schoolboy vanished, when that form became too conspicuous. Thyatira heaved a deep sigh, and sat down in the many-railed beechen chair at the head of her cruelly vacant table. She began to count the empty dishes, and with less than her usual charity mused upon the voracity of man. But her heart was kind, and the tear she wiped away was not wholly of selfish tincture.’
Horace lowered the phone again and looked at Clive. ‘Have you been a fan of R.D Blackmore for long?’ he enquired politely.
‘It’s uncanny,’ Clive ignored the question. ‘When you read, it’s like listening to Jimmy. Still a bit spooky the way you put it together though, Boss,’ he looked at her.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Spooky just about sums it up. Welcome to my life.’
‘Were you not suspicious when I showed you his photograph and told you the story?’ James frowned.
‘I might have put two and two together if you had described your brother more accurately,’ Dorothy reprimanded her protection officer with her eyes. ‘When Marco asked you what sort of man Nelson was, you told us he was a sailing freak and a demon on the polo field. I’ve never seen Horace as much as touch a horse or set foot on a boat. You never mentioned anything about him being a chess nut, or about his proficiency at languages.
‘You also failed to mention his interest in classical music, his skill at the guitar, his aptitude at gardening, his love of nature, his artistic abilities, his rather peculiar habit of jotting down poems in whatever language he’s thinking in that day, his obsession with Latin, or the fact he’s a genius woodcarver. The man you described to me that day in London in no way resembled the Horace Johnson I knew. Even without the beard, I’m not certain I would have recognised him.’
James was clearly flabbergasted by this speech. ‘You haven’t been sailing or sat on a horse for a decade?’ he addressed his brother.
‘I’ve been flying below radar,’ Horace replied gravely. ‘Giving up those pursuits was a small price to pay for my independence. I’ve never regretted it.’
‘Were you not tempted to say something on the day of Liam’s funeral?’ James enquired in acute exasperation. ‘You were standing three bloody feet away from me, yet you never uttered one damn word. What sort of freak are you?’
‘I got the shock of my life when I saw you that day,’ Horace admitted. ‘I almost blurted something out as you approached. When it dawned upon me you thought I was a tramp, and had no clue as to my true identity, I decided to hold my tongue. I won’t pretend it hasn’t been strange for me knowing you only live a few miles away and your job is taking care of Dorothy. Well done on that Mayfair thing by the way. I read about it with great interest. I’m grateful she has you watching over her.’ Horace unexpectedly extended his arm and patted his brother on the shoulder.
‘What Mayfair thing?’ Simone enquired.
‘James shot a sniper who was after me,’ Dorothy told her. ‘He took out another one during the week I spent in France. They were hired by Declan before he realised the implications of the will being destroyed.’
‘That’s what he meant when he said he ran out of money and gunmen,’ Simone’s eyes were wide with shock. ‘I’ve seen the video three times, although I was too scared to ask Jack what Declan was talking about. Now I get it. Declan sent two snipers after you, and James took them out before they could hurt you. Way to go, Jimmy.’
This minor monologue triggered something inside Horace. He sounded croaky when he said, ‘Do you mean to say there’s some sort of recording of Declan’s final moments?’
‘In all its gory detail,’ Clive replied. ‘His head getting blown off has been captured for posterity.’
‘Did he suffer?’ Nelson demanded eagerly.
‘The bastard never knew what hit him,’ James replied woodenly. ‘If not for the fact that Roy managed to stick him with a blade during his final moments, the most he would have suffered was a slight sniffle because the house was so fecking cold.’
Horace groaned. ‘I was hoping you might have gotten your hands on him for a few minutes,’ he told his brother. ‘I can’t believe the rotter got off so lightly. Is it true you have an alibi, Dam? The coppers aren’t trying to pin his death on you, are they?’
‘I’m in the clear,’ his sibling replied. ‘Although I had to come clean with the governor and Lance about the Mayfair Incident. They’re my alibi for that weekend. They never let me out of their sight. At least that’s what they told the lads from Scotland Yard who came knocking on the door of Little Badger a couple of days ago. The governor gave them what for and sent them on their way. Lance says his performance was impressive.’
‘What about the French fellow?’ Horace fixed his brother with something akin to a glare. ‘Have the Direction Centrale de la Police Judiciaire expressed an interest in you?’
He spoke the words like a French native and Simone elbowed Dorothy gently in the side. James sighed heavily and cast a surreptitious glance in Marco’s direction. The driver remained motionless and mute, his eyes fixed firmly on Horace’s face.
‘There is not a jot of evidence to suggest any sniper was sent after the boss during our sojourn in France,’ James told his brother. ‘Some rather annoying froggie chaps asked a number of probing questions. It was obvious they were merely going through the motions, and it didn’t take us long to shake them off. The boss didn’t even bother to call in the lawyers. One chap even had the gall to hit on Shelly. Damned unprofessional feckers. Coming over here with their continental accents and putting the moves on our womenfolk.’
Horace regarded his brother in admiration. ‘Good show, old man. Two of the dirty bastards no less.’
‘Thanks,’ James looked stunned. ‘How did you know it was me?’
Horace unexpectedly chuckled and said, ‘After the shooting at the funeral, I guessed Dorothy was attempting to keep certain aspects of her stalker situation quiet. I stumbled across a report about a mysterious death that took place in London while she was staying there. By then I knew you were on her staff, ergo it didn’t take me long to put two and two together. I have absolute faith in your ability to bring down any sniper, Damerel.’
‘Thank you,’ James sounded bemused.
‘As a matter of interest, did you manage to lose a game of chess to the governor?’ Horace regarded his brother with amusement. ‘I can’t tell you how fascinated I was when Dorothy explained your intentions. Was the experiment a success?’
‘That was you,’ James was rocked to the core. ‘You’re the fellow who sent the notes that day. You’re a fucking genius.’
‘Did it work?’ Horace enquired eagerly. ‘Does he like you a little better now he’s managed to beat you at something? Seriously, Dam, you left it long enough.’
‘You knew?’ James gawked at his brother. ‘You knew that was the reason he didn’t like me?’
‘One hardly needs a PhD in clinical psychology to work out something like that,’ Horace frowned in puzzlement. ‘I assumed you knew but didn’t care. It never crossed my mind to interfere because I’ve always admired your robustness. I deliberately never mentioned to him I was one of the youngest ever Cambridge chess masters, because I knew it would gall the old duffer. So, are relations between you better now?’
‘They’re vastly improved,’ James shook his head in wonderment and suddenly sounded and looked exhausted. ‘Nellie, I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just say no to Lance and the governor? You had your own money. You could have gone anywhere or done anything. Why did you take such drastic measures?’
‘I’m not like you, Dam,’ Horace replied quietly. ‘I’m not good at confrontation. I tried saying no to the governor and it was as if he couldn’t hear me. I tried explaining my feelings to him, but every time we had a conversation, it invariably ended the same way. He told me it was time to start making my way in the world, and the best way to do that was to go and work at the company for a couple of years.
‘He behaved as if he was doing me a favour by setting me up with that loathsome job and providing me with my own office. After a few weeks of being steamrolled, I began to wonder if he could actually see me. I suspected I might be invisible to him. Then I began to wonder if anybody would notice if I truly was invisible. What if there was no more Nelson? That’s when I began to seriously consider the idea of taking off into the blue yonder.’
‘Was it your idea to fake your death?’ Clive asked.
‘No, that was Alex. She said missing persons tended to create an inordinate amount of publicity, but if everybody assumed I was dead, they wouldn’t look for me. She’s a very clever woman. Married to Bertie now, of course, with two children. They write to me twice a year and send me a Christmas card. Since Dorothy gave me an iPad, we’ve even exchanged a couple of emails. They’re delighted I’ve embraced twenty-first century technology at last.’
‘Bertie married Alex,’ James looked stupefied. ‘She was the mastermind behind the whole thing. That had us stumped,’ he explained to the rest of the table. ‘At the time, Lance hypothesised that Nelson’s disappearance might be some sort of prank, but the rest of us disagreed with him. Nellie might be fluent in Ancient Greek, but a criminal mastermind he ain’t. Alex and Bertie handled the whole thing, and presumably received their fair share of the loot for their efforts.’
‘I gave them a reasonable percentage,’ Horace shrugged it off. ‘Back then, it seemed like riches, and I thought nothing of giving them a chunk which would enable them to start a new life. Alas, I was never financially savvy, and failed to anticipate how I would need to make the funds stretch over the years. I used the bulk of it to buy this cottage and make improvements. I was quite well off in the early days, and spent a considerable sum on the garden. But the cost of living in Ireland is horrendous, and I used up the last few pounds from my trust fund about four years ago.’
‘In that case, how the fuck have you been earning a living?’ James was clearly bewildered by these disclosures.
‘I have a number of clients who partake of my services,’ his brother replied equably. ‘I teach guitar to four promising students, and I have six regulars for my gardening services.’
‘You’re a gardener,’ James reeled with shock.
‘Tell him the rest,’ Dorothy urged. ‘Between February and May every year, he’s in big demand for language grinds, and he also works for a publishing company as a narrator for their audio books. Every now and again he makes a piece of custom furniture for a client, and the income from that keeps him going for months. Lately he’s become a manufacturer of pet coffins. He tried weaving human coffins for a while, but that’s a much harder business to break into.’
‘Since Dorothy won the money, she regularly sends me cash,’ Horace explained to his astounded brother. ‘When she lived here, she used to keep me fed. I never appreciated her cooking until it was whisked away from me. I never valued her enough when I had her.’
‘Now don’t start getting all maudlin,’ Dorothy scolded gently. ‘The most I’ve even given you is a few hundred euro. You make it sound as if I call by here every week with bags of cash.’
‘The boss used to make dinner for you?’ James was incredulous.
‘I never realised how much food she used to provide until it was no longer there,’ Horace admitted sheepishly. ‘I really miss Dorothy and her cooking.’
Simone giggled and Dorothy joined in.
‘He’d remind you of Jack,’ Simone chortled. ‘Obsessed by food.’
‘Now we’re in possession of more facts, the case has become clearer,’ Clive frowned at the women. ‘But one thing I still don’t understand, Boss, is why you waited five days before you made your move.’
‘I wasn’t sure what to do for the best,’ Dorothy confessed. ‘Horace is a grown man. He knows where his family are, and there’s nothing to stop him contacting them any time he chooses to do so. Who am I to force his hand? I thought it best to give the situation serious consideration instead of rushing over here half-cocked.’
Clive frowned. ‘Boss, do you mean to say you were tempted not to say a word to Jimmy?’ he sounded shocked.
‘I was sorely tempted,’ she admitted. ‘Horace, or rather, Nelson, has had ten years to resolve this situation and has chosen not to do so. Furthermore, he has known since Liam’s funeral that his brother is in my employ, yet took the decision to continue avoiding him. Much as I sympathise with James and his family, I have a long history with Nelson, and would not have betrayed him so casually if circumstances had not forced my hand.’
‘Wow,’ Simone said. ‘That was quite a mouthful, Dottie. What the hell does it all mean?’
‘Yes, Dorothy,’ Horace frowned slightly. ‘What do you mean? Why exactly are you here, if not to reconcile me with Damerel?’
‘Who the fuck is Damerel?’ Simone hissed.
‘That’s what James is called within his family,’ Clive told her. ‘That’s Nellie,’ he pointed at Horace.
‘I’m glad my dad’s not an earl if you’re expected to have two names,’ Simone grumbled.
‘Why are you here?’ Horace persisted, ignoring Simone’s comments.
‘Surely you can’t be that obtuse,’ Dorothy unexpectedly rounded on him. ‘I’m here to bring you back to Howth. Diane has barely eaten, spoken or slept since this nightmare with Declan, and you might be the only one who can help her. She needs you, Horace.’
He hung his head in a gesture of shame. ‘I’m sorry, Dorothy,’ he said apologetically. ‘I can’t help you.’
‘Are you sure about this, Dottie?’ Simone enquired warily. ‘He broke the girl’s heart. She’s unlikely to welcome him with open arms. Maybe you should leave well alone.’
‘What do you mean, he broke her heart?’ Clive unexpectedly growled. ‘Did Diane have a relationship with this fella?’
‘It was nothing like that,’ Simone jumped in hastily. ‘There was no relationship as such. Di fell for Horace when he was tutoring her in English. When she tried to take things to the next level, he rejected her. She was only eighteen at the time, so naturally enough she was devastated for a few weeks, but then she started college and put her life back together. No biggie. Personally, I don’t think she needs reminding of that period in her life, and I wish Dottie had discussed this with me beforehand. Surely the knowledge that her own father hated her enough to plan her murder is plenty for the poor kid to be dealing with right now, without bringing home yet another reminder of how unlovable she is.’
Dorothy watched Horace’s face throughout Simone’s little rant. ‘Now do you understand why I need you?’ she asked.
