Claire parked in the garage behind Marine House, and she hesitated. It was gloomy; she was wary. This was not a place she could ever feel safe in, and she walked quickly to the back door.
Stone was sitting in the kitchen as Claire entered. He looked frail – his lithe build was diminishing; his hair was uncombed, it needed trimming; and his face was gaunt with a hint he had not shaved for a few days. Claire could not see any trace of food on the table or that he was eating properly; he was drinking too much whisky, and Marine House, even on warm days like today, was cold. Stone had a mug of coffee in his hand, and he looked up. He squirmed in his chair to get comfortable.
‘I’ve got a lot of pain in my right hip and back today. I don’t feel good.’
Harry Stone’s blunt words bothered Claire. She stood, uncertain, by the door.
‘You should surely go to the hospice? Just some respite care. Would you like me to arrange it?’
‘No, this is where I’m staying.’
‘But do you really need this big house? And you’ll only be comfortable here if you get a lot of help.’
‘Housekeeping for Marine House is all I’ll need. Laundry, somebody to go buy another bottle of whisky. And I’m never going into a hospital or anywhere else like that. The smell of the places put me off. And nobody out there is going to tell me what to do,’ Stone said.
‘You must listen to your doctors. They know how to deal with your illness.’
‘Let’s move on, Claire. I’ve put seventy-five grand in £20 notes in there.’
Stone pointed to a holdall bag on the kitchen table. It was heavy. Claire lifted it and Stone, for a moment, looked satisfied. Manipulating money was an art, still like a game to him.
‘That’s a lot of money. Where did you suddenly get it all from?’
‘You don’t need to know. But here and there. Just take it. And before you give that bag of money to that woman, I want a sheet of paper in writing and signed by her that she’s had it. No unreadable squiggles but the real thing. You watch her do it. And then we deduct all this upfront stuff from the price of the deal. The daughter sounds just like her brother, grasping, wriggling idlers. I can feel it even sitting here.’
‘Yes, I’ll deal with that. But you decided very quickly to pay Edith what she’s demanding. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing here?’
‘Give them enough rope and they’ll hang themselves. That’s why I’m letting them have some more of it.’
Claire then heard a grunt from Stone. He hesitated for a moment as he watched Claire handle the bag of money.
‘Any news of that idler, Josh?’ Stone asked.
‘Probably still running.’
‘There’s a glinting diamond jewel missing. That boy has run away with £100,000 in his pocket.’
Stone clenched his fist. But his reaction was to be more subtle than that. And as Claire reached the door, Stone stood. He put his mug of coffee on a low table and took a step towards her. Claire watched as a thin smile crept over Stone’s face.
‘I want you to come back soon,’ he said.
His snappy voice showed how very fractious he had become with the Jackson family. His innate distrust, the large bag of his money she was holding, missing precious diamonds, in all was a heady mix. Claire could see a tipping point looming in his anger towards them and, in his present state of health, he would soon erupt like a volcano letting off a lot of boiling, dangerous invective. Yes, Claire would come back soon.
Harry Stone was standing in the middle of the stark kitchen as she left. His gaunt, ashen face was a pitiable sight. Whatever he did in the last few days he had left, no money could now ever buy him extra time. Claire suddenly wanted to get away, out of Marine House.