In the Blood (29 page)

My sincerest hope is that the postscript on the first note you will read shall bring your eyes with all speed to this letter, and that at reading it your sadness will quickly pass.
 
It surely is what is
inside
that counts and this message that only you can fully understand has further meaning.

Mawgan, my love, I carry our child inside me even as I write - though I regret to say that my father also knows of this and has made plans of his own.
 
The child is to be taken from me as soon as it is born and given to my Aunt Jane to bring up as her own.
 
I am not to see the child or to know anything of it.
 
Such is their plan, but upon my life this cannot be.

For there is hope.

I have recently made a discovery so dark and unsettling that I would wish now with all my heart to remain innocent of it - and yet it may be turned to our favour.
 
Very soon I shall leave Rosemullion Hall, never to return to that place I no longer know or to the father I only thought I knew.
 
Then we shall be together again.
 
Go about your routine as though you know nothing of this.
 
I shall come to you again one happy day and our plans can be set.
 
You must not come to the house!
 
Stay far away from Rosemullion Hall.

There is one other thing I must ask of you, my love.
 
At all cost you must keep the box safe.
 
I cannot stress the importance of this enough.
 
Keep it safe, knowing only for now that it will protect us.
 
It is our only security.

“Well...” Kapowski said, drawing out the word softly in Tayte’s ear.
 
“
Does
it mean anything to you?”

Tayte considered that Mawgan Hendry may have died without knowing anything of Lowenna’s plans, or anything about the child she carried.
 
“It means plenty,” he said.
 
“And I think it might come to mean a great deal more.”

He wondered what
dark discovery
Lowenna had made and whether it had anything to do with what happened to Eleanor and her children.
 
Why did she feel she no longer knew her own father?
 
Maybe it was enough that he’d insisted Lowenna end her relationship with Mawgan and give up her child.
 
That might have been enough to brand him an unrecognisable monster in her eyes?

“Glad to have been of service,” Gerald said, getting to his feet.
 
“I have to get back,” he added.
 
“I’ve a jewel box to look at this afternoon.
 
Probably Fabergé.
 
Should fetch a fortune.”

Tayte stood up and shook Gerald’s hand.
 
“You don’t know how helpful you’ve been.”

“Not at all,” Gerald said.
 
Then he turned to Kapowski.
 
“See you later.”

Tayte slipped the letter into his jacket and sat down, pulling the box closer.
 
He slid the main compartment back inside and followed the reverse of what Gerald had just shown him, getting a good understanding of how it all worked so he could show Amy when he got back.
 
She won’t believe it,
he thought.
 
He felt like a kid with a new toy.

“So I guess this is it,” Kapowski said.
 
“The coffee’s finished, the cheque’s paid.
 
Now it’s back to reality?”

Tayte looked up from the box, spinning the rose dial to reset it.
 
He closed the lid, knowing he hadn’t been paying her enough attention since Gerald re-appeared.
 
“Sorry,” he said.
 
“Miles away there.
 
Look Julia, thanks for this, really.
 
If there’s anything I can do for you.
 
Well, you’ve got my number.”

Kapowski’s eyes sparkled, like she was imagining several things right there and then.

“I’ve got to ask,” Tayte said.
 
“Looking for Larry?”

Kapowski actually blushed.
 
“I’m not sure I can tell you.”

“Then I’m not sure I can call you and tell you what flight I’m catching back to Boston.”
 
Tayte looked nonchalant.
 
“It’s a shame,” he added.
 
“I’m already getting the shakes just thinking about it.
 
You might have helped distract me from my phobia.”

“Larry Hagman,” Kapowski blurted.

Tayte’s mouth twitched with amusement.
 
“Dallas?”

“That’s the one.
 
He was my
Mr Right
when I left college.
 
After three bad marriages, I’m still looking.”

Tayte turned to the window for distraction.
 

Kapowski laughed at him.
 
“Don’t look so worried,” she added.
 
“It’s only our first date!”

Tayte laughed along with her, then he glanced at his watch and sighed.
 
“I guess it
is
that time.”
 
He put the box away.
 
“Can I walk you back to your office?”

Chapter Thirty-Five

J
efferson Tayte passed through the ticket gate at Paddington train station and made his way along the platform, heading for the 17:03 to Truro amid a jostle of Friday commuters.
 
Looking up, he admired Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s collaborative creation with architect, Matthew Digby Wyatt.
 
The glowing central span arched like a decorative wrought iron rib-cage a hundred feet above him.
 
It was supported on red-and-white steel columns and ran some 500 feet in length to a bright fan of light at the opening.
 
He wondered how many of the people rushing around him spared any time to take a look; how many stopped to read about its history or knew anything about the place at all.

 
After he’d left Kapowski, taking a cab from outside her office building not far from the park where they’d met, he’d updated his client then called Amy to share his news about the box.
 
He’d been disappointed to get no reply but he figured good news keeps and a large part of him wanted to see her face when he revealed what the box specialist had discovered.

He followed a grey suit into the vestibule area of the train carriage - another similarly attired man was at his heels.
 
The carriage was already busy as he went through and the air immediately assaulted him with a mixture of new plastic and velour seat coverings fused with overheating bodies, sweaty from the office march and the London Underground.
 
He hoped the air-conditioning worked.

He hadn’t long found a seat when his cellphone rang.
 
The train was still in the station, though the doors had closed, sealing everyone in ready for departure.
 
He had his briefcase clamped between his feet and the rucksack on his lap.
 
His phone’s simple ring tone amplified as he took it out of his pocket, drawing attention.
 
The display gave him no clue as to the caller’s identity.

“JT,” he announced.
 
The woman in the seat opposite him looked up from her book, distracted by the obvious burst of something foreign.
 
Beside her a young earphone clad office worker remained oblivious.

“Mr Tayte?” the caller asked.

Tayte thought it sounded like a man’s voice, but there was something odd about the tone and he couldn’t be certain.
 
“Speaking,” he said.

“I have something for you, Mr Tayte.”

The voice sounded cartoon-like and unnatural, like whoever was speaking was breathing helium between sentences.
 
“Who is this?” Tayte asked.

“Who I am doesn’t matter.
 
You’ll know soon enough.”

Tayte was intrigued.
 
“Did you leave that old newspaper copy under my wiper blade at Bodmin yesterday?”
 
He was speaking louder than he meant to.
 
The whole carriage seemed to quieten.
 
He turned to the window and asked, “How did you get my number?”

“Just listen, Mr Tayte.
 
I didn’t call you to pass the time.
 
We need to meet.
 
I can help you.”

Tayte felt the train jerk as it started to move.
 
A late boarder wielding a laptop suddenly filled the empty seat beside him.

The voice in Tayte’s cellphone continued.
 
“I don’t have much time, Mr Tayte.
 
When I’ve finished speaking this call will end.”

The caller had Tayte’s full attention.

“There is a place on the Lizard Peninsula,” the voice said.
 
“Not far from the inlet to the Helford River on the south bank - Nare Point.
 
I will be inside the observation hut there tonight at seven-thirty.
 
I have a copy of James Fairborne’s last will and testament for you.
 
It’s something you need to see.”

Tayte was about to cut in and say he couldn’t make it - that he was on a train and it wasn’t due into Truro until after nine-thirty.
 
He waited too long for a pause that never came and the sudden silence in his ear told him he’d missed the opportunity.
 
The caller had cleared.

Tayte sighed, heavily.
 
He wanted to see that probate record all the more now.
 
It was a missing document and there had to be a good reason.
 
He wondered who was trying to help him and why they were in such a rush.
 
The only obvious candidate was someone from the Cornwall Record Office.
 
Penny Wilson had his number.
 
Someone must have found the document,
he thought.
 
But he couldn’t make the train go any faster.
 
It was due to arrive two hours too late and he’d be much later still by the time he’d found Nare Point.

Peter Schofield...
 
The name that couldn’t have been further from his thoughts all day just popped into his head.
 
The solution was suddenly obvious.
 
Schofield could go in his place.
 
Tayte thought he’d probably welcome the chance after prowling around graveyards all day.
 
He reached for his phone again, wondering for the first time how Schofield had got on.

Peter Schofield answered the call with his usual business greeting.
 
“You’ve called Peter Schofield.
 
Don’t know where we’re going, but I sure know where we’ve been.”

Tayte shook his head.
 
“Schofield, it’s JT.”

“I knew that,” Schofield said, laughing.
 
“You won’t believe the trip I’ve had today.”

Tayte could hear the unmistakable rasp of a V12 in the background, heightened by an intermittent rushing sound, like Schofield was driving a sporty roadster between narrow country lane hedgerows with the top down.

“Turn anything up?” Tayte asked.
 
He wouldn’t have put it past Schofield to turn a goose chase into a golden egg hunt.

“I sure have, buddy.
 
And you’re gonna love it.”

The conversation paused briefly while Tayte waited to hear what Schofield had to say, but Schofield remained silent.

“So let’s have it then,” Tayte said.

“Well now that wouldn’t be right.
 
You’re holding all your cards close to you chest until you get back.
 
It’s only fair I do the same.
 
We can exchange information later over a drink.”

Tayte shuddered at the idea.
 
He knew better than to expect anything straightforward from Peter Schofield.

“Yours better be good though,” Schofield added.
 
“It better be really good, ‘cos mines the Elliot Ness of news!”

“Elliot Ness?”

“It’s untouchable man!”
 
Schofield hooted and whooped down the phone.
 
“Tell me you’ve seen the movie.”

Tayte just shook his head and moved right on.
 
“Schofield,” he said.
 
“I need you to meet someone tonight at seven-thirty.
 
It’s important so don’t be late.
 
They’ll be waiting inside an observation hut at a place called Nare Point.
 
Should be on the map.
 
It’s somewhere near the mouth of the Helford River.
 
There’s a document they want to give me but I won’t be back in time.”

“What is it?”

“A probate record.
 
It won’t mean much to you, and I’m not exactly sure yet what it’ll mean to me, but I’ll tell you what I know over that drink.”