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SOPHIE GLARED AT the stack of bills on her desk and slumped into her chair. Her anger hadn’t abated, only deepened and she wanted the intruder found and torn to shreds.
“Frank!” She could hear the edge under her growl as she slammed down the intercom. “In here, now.”
She picked up the bills. Same businesses in town that Edwina had pointed out were asking payment of bills continuously. “Frank!”
She turned and ripped open the door. Once again, Frank had disappeared in the seconds it took for her to close the door. “Edwina!”
Edwina hurried from her room with worry in her eyes. “Yes, Sophie?”
“Where is he now? I want him found and dragged here.” She held up the bills. “Have you paid these?”
Edwina nodded and took the stack. “Again? Sophie, I assure you that every one has been paid. I did it myself.”
“Then why are they trying to suck me dry?” That was it. She was going to deal with this herself.
“I don’t know.” Edwina frowned then went to the staff room and ducked her head inside. “He’s not in there. He must be under the weather again.”
“I don’t care. He is to be found and dragged here.” Sophie could hear herself snarling. Morgan would be displeased. “Please.”
Edwina’s eyes softened. “Frank is more than under the weather.” She sighed and glanced down the corridor. “He’s on chemical treatment. He shouldn’t even be at work.”
Sophie put her hands on her hips. “How bad is it?”
“From what I could pull from him, it’s bleak.” Edwina lowered the stack of bills to her side. “I don’t have to heart to tell him to stop working . . . and, I didn’t think you would be concerned for him, which was extremely silly and unfair on you.”
This was the second time Edwina had come out with sentiment. Was Morgan feeding her something?
“You sent him to the best, yes?” She stared at Frank’s desk. The man had been a constant fixture beside the office since she’d been small.
“No, I didn’t know myself until Morgan demanded we find him the other day. I don’t know where he is going for treatment.” Edwina’s voice was soft and she stood beside Sophie staring at the desk.
“He goes to my doctor who will send him to the best. I will not hear any argument.” Sophie turned to storm back to her office, then paused. “I need your assistance. I am going to each of these businesses to find out the truth.”
Edwina raised her eyebrows. “My assistance?”
Morgan liked her to be agreeable. Morgan had far too much influence over her and she could almost hear her asking Sophie to explain why and be nice.
“I am blind to numbers,” she whispered, hating the confession as soon as it flowed from her lips.
Edwina studied her. “You still are? I remember the injury that caused it. I wasn’t sure if it had been permanent.”
“All of it was.” She retrieved her mobile from her desk and Edwina was ready with her coat and Sophie’s. “I need you to cross-check their accounts.”
“Of course.” Edwina said it like a proud mother. “You sustained that injury falling near the Willow-Blossom . . .” She sighed. “Or would Fiona tell me different?”
Sophie grunted as they headed out into the chilly morning air. As always, it had been warm in February and March and now it was back to winter in April. It confused the plants every year and daffodils would peek up in January some years. Come May, it would be summer heat to dry out everything and bake the soil; if they were fortunate, that would continue until June or July but it would be a push, then August to September would see heavy rains and flooding, October would be summer once more, then November through to January it would veer from stormy, to freezing, to completely mild, to blankets of snow.
Jake spent most of the year muttering to himself, but in spite of the challenges, he always produced spectacular displays; the lawns were always pristine and the grounds obeyed him like they knew his lineage.
“Will you humour me and tell me how you got the injury?” Edwina said as they left the estate on foot and headed down the road into town.
“No.” Sophie noted the unmarked police car, its officers taking a picture of her and telling someone on their radios.
“In that case, I will ask Fiona,” Edwina said and stopped next to the car. She rapped on the window until the officer rolled it down. “I would like to inform you that this is a private road and you are not permitted to use it. Please move.”
Sophie raised her eyebrow.
“We are permitted to be here,” the man grunted back and flashed her a warrant card.
“Actually you are not,” Edwina snapped back. “Regardless of your occupation, you are trespassing on private property. If you do not move, I will inform our barrister who will call your superiors to move you.”
Sophie smiled. She liked this side of Edwina.
“Furthermore, should you damage the grass further, you will be trespassing and causing damage to property which I believe you would know is a particular offence.” Edwina said it as if she knew the law herself.
The officers wound up the window with a glare and drove off.
Sophie couldn’t help but smile. “I detect Morgan’s influence.”
“Quite,” Edwina said with a chuckle. “She even wrote down the offence for me if I saw them.”
Sophie shook her head and walked on. “I am not surprised in the slightest.” She smiled again in spite of her mood. “Henry had tied Jake’s hands and feet together and attached him to a heavy log. He was intending to throw him in the lake.” She sighed and touched the side of her head. “I was able to intervene enough that Jake could escape but lost the battle.”
Edwina stopped and stared up at her. “You barely survived.”
Sophie nodded. It was an established fact. What was so shock-worthy about it?
“Henry tried to kill you.” Edwina peered up over her glasses. “And not once did you tell anyone.”
“And who would have listened other than my grandfather?” She continued their walk down to the main road where the surveillance vehicle had re-stationed itself. “And the only time I did tell him about Henry, he shot him.”
Edwina nodded.
“And so, regardless of his spite, he was also a sibling to keep safe.” Which was her duty as the heir. Hayes always observed their duties.
“I suddenly have an entirely different opinion of you, Sophie,” Edwina whispered, then stopped outside the first shop on their list. “I only wish you’d given me the chance to do something to assist you all these years.”
Sophie raised an eyebrow. “You are assisting me now, that is more than adequate.”
Edwina sighed and headed inside. “Ever the Haye.”
Sophie nodded. What else would she be?
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I WRAPPED MY coat around me and headed around to the north side of the manor. I wanted to familiarise myself with the outlay during the day without taking on the ruin again. If the intruder had used the ruin to get in, there must be a route out of the estate I’d missed, somewhere.
As I headed around, there was a woman with shaggy blonde hair in a groundskeeper uniform. Must have been on holiday to be that tanned as her skin colour looked like it naturally would be that English ruddy white only it was about twenty shades darker.
“Morning,” I said, hoping I didn’t make her jump. The staff in Hayefield tended to get jumpy. I couldn’t imagine why, could you?
The lady turned, showing off a slick pair of wrap-around sunglasses, and nodded.
“Do you work for Jake?” I hadn’t seen many ground-staff but him although it hadn’t exactly been gardening weather.
The lady nodded.
“Don’t suppose I can borrow you for a minute?” I hoped I looked trustworthy and not like I was going to chase her with a sword. I’d tried asking one of the stable boys for help earlier but he’d scurried off. Then I’d asked one of the house staff if they could show me a book to read up on the layout of the barracks but they’d scurried off too. I didn’t know what had got into everyone.
The lady nodded and smiled.
“Thank you.” I beamed at her. “You probably know the grounds much better than me and I really don’t want any more break-ins.” I rubbed my left hand to my chin. “It’s bad enough Lady Haye has had to put up with so many already.”
She pulled her sunglasses down and peered over them, eyes twinkling.
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved off the look. If she started saying I’d been caught like all the other staff, I’d get grumpy and I needed help. “I want to keep her safe but it’s my job.”
Her eyes twinkled some more.
“It is.” I folded my arms.
A smile crossed her suntanned face. She really needed to use sun cream.
“Anyway. I’m not allowed in the ruins but the furthest wall borders onto the boundary and I’m worried that’s where they are getting in.” I really wanted to scope out the ruin itself with a hard hat on but I had enough bruises from Sophie pinning me and being attacked as it was. “Do you think you could help me check from the moors side?”
The lady winked, got to her feet, and strode toward the wall.
I followed and she led me to an overgrown section I’d searched with Jake. She went to the wall, hauled herself onto the top, and jumped off.
Was she the intruder? If she wasn’t so athletic, I’d be worried. The intruder with the sword had puffed a lot when they were attacking. This woman didn’t look like she’d ever puffed.
I jumped and pulled myself up, carefully stepped over the barbed wire, then jumped down the other side half the distance. The woman motioned to it. A whole section had a very convenient slope to the wall.
“Any chance we can move this?” I stared out at the mounds and vast sparseness of the moors. “Or is it a conservation area?”
The woman flicked her hands about. Sign language? Right. I could do finger spelling but that was the extent of my abilities. And yes, I might have learned finger spelling because Sophie was deaf. It could be needed at some point.
I spelled out, slowly and painfully, that I could only finger spell.
The woman took off her sunglasses like she wanted to hug me . . . I think . . . then pulled a piece of paper and pen from the side pocket of her work trousers.
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It is a conservation area but we can move it back away from the wall. I will tell Jake but Lady Haye won’t be happy.
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She had lovely writing, considering she was using her thigh to press on.
“Thank you. I’ll try and ask Lady Haye . . . Hopefully she’ll be open to it.” I chewed my lip. If she wasn’t there was good reason and from what I’d learned of Sophie, it was that she was a conservationist. There were bird boxes and feeding stations, shelters for the deer, and I could go on with that list all day.
The woman shrugged as if to say “yeah, good luck.”
“If she doesn’t go for it. Do you know of any natural way we could increase the height of the boundary and make it unclimbable?” There had to be some way Sophie would agree to.
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I will ask Jake. He will know which measures will work best.
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I smiled. “Thank you.” I put my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun as I tried to see where the moors stretched off to. “It would take someone a fair trek to get across the moors though, wouldn’t it?”
The woman nodded.
“Where do they come out?”
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To the west, it leads to the hill overlooking the town. That is inaccessible . . . unless the intruder can climb sheer rock faces.
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The woman grinned and let through a breathy laugh.
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To the east, the moors stretch fifty miles and come out on the edge of a woodland. I don’t think that is where they come from.
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And I agreed. I doubted anyone would navigate fifty miles on foot to attack Sophie. If they did, they needed more help mentally than they did already.
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To the north, it leads to hills but that is about thirty miles away. The moors are a mixture of boggy wetlands, unstable mud and dunes, inaccessible hills and lakes. It belongs to Lady Haye also.
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That answered my question why no one had built on it. “They must be coming across the moors from town, right?”
The woman shrugged. She was running out of room on her paper too.
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I don’t think so. Do you want me to check?
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“Oh no.” I held up my hands. “I don’t want to take away from your workload any longer. I’ll get my guys to check that out.” I smiled at her. “I really appreciate the help.”
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No worries.
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I laughed at the winky face she’d drawn next to her words and let her lead me back over the wall. I needed to grab some unwilling volunteers and go on a trek.
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SOPHIE GLARED AT the campaign poster of Councillor Doyle who was running for Leader of the council. Why was it in one of her shops. She did not have political leanings, she wasn’t allowed them. Hayes had no voice in politics.
“So, let me clarify this,” Edwina said, leaning onto the counter. “You have a fully working kiln that’s been in place a year; you need no repairs to your roof, and you have no idea who could have sent this bill?”
The lady nodded. Sophie remembered her from childhood. Her family had been the potters for generations. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. All I can give as explanation is that the new shop manager we had got his wires in a twist.” She looked at Sophie. “We wouldn’t ever request that from you anyway. We make more than enough to provide kilns and roof repairs.”
Edwina furrowed her brow. “Who is the new shop manager and how long has he been in position?”
“Six months maybe,” the potter said. “He is upstairs, I’ll get him for you.”
Sophie nodded. She ripped down the poster of Doyle. “Please do.”
“Fancy seeing you here,” Wood said as she strolled through the doorway with Matthews. “We come looking for evidence and you happen to visit the exact same shop.”
“Lady Haye owns these premises,” Edwina snapped and turned with her full headmistress scowl on her face. “Are you enquiring about pottery?”
“No, we’re here to interview the staff.” Matthews glare fell on Sophie. Did she feel it was intimidating?
The potter returned to the shop with a flustered look on her face. “Ma’am, I’m very sorry but . . . he seems to have climbed out the window.”
Sophie stared up at the ceiling. Of course he had and she couldn’t pull out her phone and tell The Recluse with Wood and Matthews gawping at her.
“Do you have his name and details?” Edwina said, worry in her eyes.
“Why would your staff climb out of windows?” Matthews had lost a touch of the attitude and seemed to be attempting to be a useful public servant.
Edwina met her eyes but Sophie shook her head. “I want the account books.”
The potter nodded. “I will get them for you, right away, ma’am.” She dashed off into the back, her cheeks red and her eyes wide.
“Why are your staff running away from you?” Wood asked, her tone more icy.
“It is a matter between myself and my staff.” Sophie crumpled up the poster and took it around the counter before ramming it into the bin. “Now why are you preying on more of my staff?”
“You make it sound like we’re attacking them,” Matthews muttered.
“Aren’t you?” Sophie leaned onto the counter. “Haven’t you wounded certain members enough?”
Edwina nodded. “Such bad taste.”
Matthews scowled. “I don’t think investigating a serial killer is bad taste.” She rounded on Sophie. “I think seducing other women’s fiancés is though.”
Sophie smirked. “Is that what you tell yourself?” She laughed and let through the edge she felt. “If you had sense at all, you would have realised she was far, far out of your reach.” She sneered. “Neither of you is competent. I can imagine your superior is peering through his fingers at your pathetic efforts.”
Matthews slunk to one hip, jutted out her jaw—mouth slack—and flicked her eyebrows up with attitude. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Edwina stared, horrified.
“Trin,” Wood said and held up her hand. “Leave it.”
“I won’t fucking leave it.” She stomped up to counter. “You think you’re so fucking clever, well, we’ve got the net closing on you. We have clay from this place in Jackie Rampone’s flat.” She stuck her tongue under her bottom lip. “Yeah, we have your hair on her, Miss Fucking Wonderful. Get your bitch to explain that one.”
Sophie sneered and leaned over the counter. “What did you call her?”
“Trin. I said leave it.” Wood stomped over and tugged at her arm.
“You heard. Nicely played to pull her in. She’s as arrogant as you . . . but then, maybe you get her better seeming as you’re as damaged.” Trin tapped her ears, eyes wide and angry.
Sophie laughed at her. “Did you do something as unwise as to discriminate against a former colleague with a disability?”
Wood had let go of Trin and was glaring at her.
“I’m talking about my own fiancé. The woman you are—”
“Trin, will you shut up,” Wood barked and for the first time resembled someone with sense. She turned to Sophie. “If I ask you for an explanation about the DNA, are you going to answer?”
She folded her arms. “Not without my legal representative.”
“I’ll say. I’ve never seen such behaviour.” Edwina peered over her glasses. “What a disgusting mouth and attitude.”
“Yes, and I will deal with it.” Wood slammed her hands to the counter. “If you’re not guilty, why won’t you answer?”
“Why would she?” Edwina’s tone rose. “You have been nothing but hostile since the outset of this terrible mess.”
Sophie shrugged.
“I tried to be nice, it got me nowhere.” Wood met Sophie’s eyes. “I have at least five deaths all linked to you in some way. You refuse to answer or explain or help, you hire my former superior officer and Trin’s fiancé who you parade in front of you like a trophy. What am I supposed to think?”
“I did not know that Morgan was connected to you. I did not know she was a police officer in your force. I only knew she had the relevant experience and that she was concerned she wouldn’t be able to satisfy my needs.” Sophie let the latter few words hang there to annoy Matthews further. “As you have seen for yourself, Morgan is more than capable.”
“You didn’t know?” Matthews laughed. “Like I believe that.”
“I do not care for your opinion.” She met Wood’s gaze. “Morgan does not need to assist me in any other way than to secure the estate but she is a wonderful asset and a highly intelligent woman who was offended by your behaviour.”
“Yes, no doubt she is but she left me to try and be her.” Wood threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know why she retired but I have to live with it.”
“I can assure you that Morgan does not regret her actions for a second.” Sophie softened her tone. The annoyance, this petulant detective bore in her eyes, was the same wounded look Morgan carried and she saw in the mirror herself. “The skin covering hurts her if you wish for the truth. She does not say it but amputees often feel sensations as if their limb remains. When she puts on the casing, it makes her feel like she has cut the circulation . . . and so the metal is not fit for many types of weather.” She tapped her own arm. “And that would mean that she is unfit for the conditions police operate in.”
“How do you know that?” Matthews stared at her. “What do you know about her?”
“Perhaps it takes being damaged to see how damage affects others.” She pushed off the counter as the potter hurried in with no books and panic in her eyes. “He has run off with those too?”
She nodded.
Sophie turned to Wood. “I am saying this because Morgan seems to have convinced me you might be a good person.”
Edwina hugged herself as Wood nodded.
“The manager of this shop has been fraudulently claiming funds from my estate.” She sneered. If she caught him or The Recluse did first, she’d tear him to pieces. “He has made off with the only record I had . . . as someone has murdered my accountant and taken those records . . . so my guess would be, he might be someone you would find more useful to interrogate.”
“What was his name?” Edwina asked the potter. “Do you have an address for him?”
“He lives in one of the new houses,” the potter said, her brow wrinkled. “He’s taken every record, including what orders we need to fulfil.” She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I don’t keep computer records.”
Sophie squeezed her shoulder. “Then I will assist you to know who has ordered what and we will fix it. Please, do not be upset. We will fix it together.”
Edwina sniffed.
“If you have a name, that would help,” Wood said, prodding Matthews who was still glaring like she wanted a fight.
“Yes . . . um . . .” The potter nodded. “Rhys. I think his surname was . . . Mead?”
Sophie forced her features to remain stoic.
“Can you give us a description?” Wood and Matthews had forgotten personal issues and transformed into officers with notebooks at the ready. Ah, so when they knew what to do, they were less abrasive.
The potter nodded. “Yes, he’s white . . . he’s about twenty odd ish . . . with blonde hair . . . no . . . it’s a reddy blonde really.”
He had red hair like his mother, Jackie, so he must have dyed it.
Matthews pulled out her phone. “Is this the man?”
It was a picture of Mead himself, Jackie and Rhys . . . and it was very recent. So much for loyalty.
“Yes, that’s him.” The potter nodded.
“And that is my accountant.” Sophie sighed as if she didn’t know the link. “Dare I ask why you have this picture?”
Wood nodded. “Your accountant was actually the wife of this man and this is their son. They are well known criminals in London.”
“What?” With added irritation for emphasis. “Why are they targeting me?”
“I don’t know . . . but as both parents are dead now. We need answers from Rhys.” She nodded to Matthews. “Get the alert out, now.”
Matthews headed out of the door and started barking into her phone.
“Is there any reason why they would target you? Any reason you can think of at all.” And yes, Wood was speaking like an actual officer. Morgan would be relieved.
“Yes. I believe that Richard Bright is trying to get my land off me and as I recall he had a London twang of some sort.” She shrugged as Edwina nodded furiously. “He’s been hounding me.”
“I’m going to ask the stupid question and say why?” Wood wasn’t being irritating but looked more like someone Morgan would have trained.
“My estate alone is worth billions should he fill it with rubble not to mention my ownership of the moors.” She didn’t even like to think of what he’d do to it.
“Now that’s a motive I can work with.” Wood let out a breath. “Thank you for helping. If you think of anything else, please, even if it is through Morgan and a load of red tape, tell us.” She tapped her pen to her pad and pocketed it. “Do you need me to record the theft?”
“I have no records to prove any crime has occurred.” Sophie sighed. “I do not want you trawling over my staff here too.”
“Then I’ll forget it . . . for now.” Wood wagged her pen. “It’s a show of trust. I hope you get that.” She turned and hurried out of the door.
“I doubt that,” Sophie whispered then turned to Edwina. “I want to visit every business. I want every record and I want Doyle’s posters ripped down. I have been invaded enough.”
And she would find The Recluse the minute she returned to the estate. She wanted Rhys Mead’s head on a plate.