‘What are the more recent entries?’ Patrick asked.

‘I was about to get to that. OK, last entry was made about ten days before he died. He and Marcus had lunch together and he says: “I told Marcus I would not be in for a few days. I need some time to think things through and get away from it all, though I know, if I’m honest with myself, there is no getting away. I could run away, of course, but that would be cowardly and it would leave those I care for in the firing line. I have no illusions. If they could not find me, they would take their spite out on someone other than me, and that I cannot, in all conscience, allow. So, I have done what I can, made my preparations and it is a comfort to know that all of my affairs are ordered, so far as they can be, and now I must allow events to run their course.”’

They sat for a moment in silence, the finality of Rupert’s words reaching them, casting a despairing miasma across their little company.

‘He knew he was going to die,’ Naomi said at last.

Nineteen

Alec left early the following morning. No one had slept for more than a few hours. Reading the journals and examining the laptop had taken the rest of the evening and run on into the early hours. It had been after two when Alec finally gave in and shooed everyone off to bed. He had been up again at six and gone just after seven.

Naomi, sitting in the kitchen and finishing the pot of tea, felt far from happy. She had been in two minds about insisting she go with Alec, but had finally decided that she would be more use at this end. She had woken with a plan of action in mind.

Patrick took her by surprise by padding into the kitchen only a half hour after Alec had gone. Harry wasn’t far behind.

‘I thought Patrick at least would have slept in,’ she said.

‘Brain was buzzing,’ he told her. ‘I thought I may as well buzz down here.’

‘And I just can’t sleep past seven on a weekday,’ Harry added. ‘I’m too much a creature of habit.’

‘Is it OK with your work? I feel so bad about dragging you all the way up here.’

‘Don’t. I called them on Friday and told them I’d be gone a few days. I’ve holiday owing and extra hours built up on flexitime, so it’s fine.’

‘Thanks. So, what was the brain buzzing about?’ she asked Patrick.

‘Oh, just the stuff he wrote. I was trying to put it together. I can’t get why he hid the earlier journals. I mean, the last one talks about Kinnear and all that stuff …’

‘Except it says very little in real terms.’

‘True, but reading between the lines, he felt threatened and it was something from way back that he was scared about. Something Kinnear knew about him.’

‘It certainly sounded like blackmail,’ Naomi agreed. ‘But how did Kinnear find out whatever it was? Harry, did the ledger tell you anything?’

Harry filled the kettle and set it to boil before responding. ‘It’s hard to say. The ledger seemed incomplete. There were references to sales and purchases not actually entered into the ledger, as though he cross-referenced the figures elsewhere. What I suspect is that Rupert was keeping a second set of accounts and that the ledger was part of that. I’d need a lot more information and I’ve still not collated all we have here, but I suspect that Rupert was not as honest and straightforward as either Marcus or Alec gave him credit for. Some of the entries concern antiques, so far as I can tell. It’s possible that he was either trading for himself behind Marcus’s back or he was lying about the price received for certain items.’

‘You didn’t mention this last night.’

‘No. I wanted to be sure. Alec was very fond of this man. I’ve no wish to sully a reputation unnecessarily or spoil a memory.’

‘No, perhaps you’re right. We’ll have to face up to it sooner or later though. There’s the possibility that this house and Alec’s inheritance are tied up with this. A serving officer; dodgy inheritance …’

‘I can imagine the consequences,’ Harry said. ‘Some of the more interesting entries referenced the stock market.’

‘Oh?’

‘Um, do you think Alec would mind if I took another look at Rupert’s study? Only if I’ve read this right there should be records of his portfolio somewhere. Of course, it might be with his solicitor but …’

‘No, I wouldn’t have thought so. The solicitor gave Alec a pack outlining his inheritance and all the tax side of it and so on. He’s had a good look through and he never mentioned anything like that.’

‘Right, well, we shall have to see what we can find out. I’d like to think I’d have a handle on this before Alec returns. It would be nice to tell him there’s nothing to worry about in that direction, but at the very least it would be good to make him aware of exactly which laws his uncle Rupert had been breaking.’

Naomi nodded slowly. ‘There’s something else I want to do,’ she said as Harry got up to make more tea. ‘We’ve got a list of names and addresses for people Rupert contacted in his research. They may not be remotely relevant, but I’d like to check them out. I thought we could say we were trying to finish his book. A sort of posthumous tribute.’

‘Sounds like a reasonable cover story,’ Harry said.

‘So, when do we start?’ Patrick asked.

‘Well, I thought this morning, unless Harry wants to get on with the financial stuff?’

‘To be truthful I could do with some thinking time. I’ve stared at those figures so long I can still see them imprinted on my eyelids.’

‘Good. So, you and Patrick take half the list and I’ll contact Marcus, rope him in for the rest.’

‘Marcus.’ Patrick was disgusted.

‘For what it’s worth,’ Naomi told him, ‘I think you were right. Marcus is holding back. I’m hoping that he’ll drop his guard a little if we seem to be involving him. Besides, we can’t all turn up on people’s doorstep. Two of us is OK, three plus dog is going to look intimidating and, anyway, if we split up we can cover more ground. Unfortunately, I do need a driver. Far as I see it, Marcus is it.’

Alec was exhausted long before he reached the capital. He stopped twice for coffee, lacing the strongest brew he could find with painkillers. He’d heard somewhere that it was OK to take ibuprofen with paracetamol and he hoped it was fact and not something he had made up. He alternated the painkillers every couple of hours, saving the ones the hospital had given to him for the bad night he knew was going to come.

His whole body ached; the bruising on his abdomen was still black, showing a purple hue only at the very edges. The seat belt dug deep just where it hurt the most and his ribs protested vigorously every time he changed gear. He knew he wasn’t really fit enough to drive and began to wonder just what the hell he was doing rushing headlong towards a place he hated for its dust and noise and crowds to meet a man who could probably tell him little more face to face than he could have over the phone.

He was aware that he hadn’t been entirely straight with Naomi. She was right and he didn’t actually have to drive all the way down here and he wondered what it was that had compelled him.

He told himself that he couldn’t access the newspaper archive by phone, that he really needed to get to the actual records. He told himself that people opened up in face to face meetings in a way they did not on the end of a telephone. He told himself that he could call on his parents on his way back to Epworth and challenge them about the row with Rupert and whether it had any bearing on present events.

He repeated these reasons and excuses over and over again until he almost believed them. After all, they were all valid and true. But they weren’t the genuine motivation, Alec thought as he guided the car through the midday traffic on the Edgware Road. The genuine motivation was that he needed to get away, to escape from the concern and questions and the challenge of it all. He thought he’d known Rupe; his cherished memories of his uncle had misled him into thinking that they were the sum total of the man Rupert had been.