The Legacy (22 page)

Chapter 43

Ellie and Harry arrived at the hospital just as lunch was being served on the ward. Camilla was propped up in bed, waiting for her food to arrive. She looked much better. Her colour had returned and Sarah explained that she and Camilla had spent the morning doing crosswords and watching TV.

‘She's back in the land of the living,' said Sarah, getting up and packing her things away.

‘How do you feel?' asked Harry, sitting on Camilla's bed and taking her hand.

‘Much better, thank you,' she replied. ‘My head still hurts and it's hard to move with this sling on my arm and my leg in a pot but, overall, I think I'm on the mend.'

‘I spoke to the doctor on the way in,' said Harry. ‘He thinks you should be able to go home tomorrow. They're going to keep you here today and tonight. They were thinking of transferring you to another ward but things are quiet and they're still a little bit worried about your head.'

‘That's good,' said Camilla. ‘I like it here. The nursing staff are great.'

‘We'll see you later,' said Sarah. ‘We're off for lunch. It's Ellie's treat and I'm going to pick the most expensive dish on the menu.' She laughed as she saw the look on Ellie's face.

Ellie recovered quickly. ‘That's fine,' she said, ‘McDonalds isn't very expensive, even if you have a double burger and a huge coke!'

‘I'm not going to bloody McDonalds,' said Sarah. ‘We're going somewhere nice.' She grabbed Ellie's hand and started dragging her out of the room.

‘See you later,' called Ellie over her shoulder. ‘We'll be back in a few hours.'

Harry watched them go.

‘They're such a good couple,' said Camilla. ‘I've known Ellie for years and I've never seen her so happy. She looks great and Sarah is really nice.'

‘They're a good match,' agreed Harry. ‘I suppose that's all everyone wants isn't it, someone to share their life with?'

Camilla looked at him quizzically. ‘Goodness me Fish, do you feel OK?'

‘Ho, ho,' said Harry, realising that Camilla was teasing him. ‘I just mean that when you're eventually ready to settle down, it must be really nice if you find someone who loves you to do it with.'

‘Yes, I suppose that's the general aim. But we're too young to start thinking like that. Too much to do before we're going to be ready to step onto life's hard shoulder and let the world pass us by.'

‘Maybe,' said Harry. ‘But what happens when you meet someone you really like and you know that if you don't commit to them, they're going to leave you. You feel too young to settle down but you know that, if you let them go, you might never meet anyone like that again. Do you think you'd spend the rest of your life regretting not committing to them when you had the chance?'

‘I assume you're not talking about us Harry? I take it you've either met someone or, as you start to enter middle age, you're worrying about whether you're going to spend the rest of your life alone, a sad old bastard who can climb mountains and ski but who goes home to an empty house every night to feed his cat.'

‘Firstly, I'm not middle aged and, secondly, I don't like cats. And yes, I might have met someone. Well, I think I might have but I'm not really sure what she really thinks of me.'

‘Go on,' said Camilla, prompting him for more. ‘I promise I won't tell anyone.'

Harry thought about it. He'd been with Camilla for years and he knew that they'd always be close friends. They'd split up because they wanted different things and that wouldn't change in a hurry. There was no chance of them getting back together again. There was no acrimony between them and she seemed genuinely interested.

Harry waited until the nurse had served Camilla's lunch and then, whilst she ate, he told her about how he'd met Lucy in Nepal and everything that had happened since. He was honest with her about his feelings. In truth, he valued her views on whether the relationship might work. She asked the odd question between mouthfuls.

‘I can't wait to meet her,' said Camilla as Harry finished his story. ‘She sounds great.'

‘I think she is,' said Harry. ‘But I hardly know her. I just know that I want to be with her. I can't stop thinking about her. Anyway, you'll meet her tomorrow when they let you out. She's flying down from Scotland in the morning and the girls have said she can stay at the house whilst we work out what we're going to do next.'

‘I'll tell you what, I'll give you my considered view when I've seen you together for a few days,' said Camilla, enjoying her new-found role as Harry's relationship advisor. ‘The only advice I'd offer you now is that you should only regret the things you do, not the things you don't do.'

‘I don't mean this unkindly Camilla,' said Harry, ‘but that's very profound for you.'

‘Fuck off Fish,' replied Camilla, laughing. ‘What I mean is that if you are in doubt, you should go for it. It's better to regret having made the mistake of doing something than to spend the rest of your life wondering what might have happened if you'd had the courage to go for it.'

Harry laughed. They continued chatting amicably for the next few hours, reminiscing about the things they used to do together and the people they knew. Camilla had stayed in touch with most of them, even the ones who had originally been Harry's friends rather than hers. Most were doing well, working hard to establish themselves in their careers. Harry felt his phone vibrate. He took it out of his pocket. It was a text. He read it: ‘Should be with you before midnight. Got the stuff. See you then. H and G.'

‘Anything interesting?' asked Camilla.

‘No, just some friends who said they'd help me out. You'll meet them later when you're back at the house.'

Harry didn't want to alarm Camilla by explaining that the friends had agreed to help him protect her until he'd somehow managed to find whoever had tried to kill her on Hay Tor. He'd asked them to meet him at the house, arriving after dark so as not to draw unnecessary attention to themselves in the tiny village.

One of the nurses came in and suggested that Camilla needed to sleep. ‘You can stay,' she said to Harry, ‘but she needs to rest. I'll get you a cup of tea and I've got today's paper if you want to read something.'

Harry thanked the nurse. She returned with the tea and dimmed the lights in the room. The curtains were closed and Harry soon found himself struggling to stay awake. His body was still adjusting to UK time and the run that morning had added to his tiredness. He finished his tea, put the cup on the table next to the bed and closed his eyes. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

Chapter 44

Lucy had spent the morning with Isobel, going through her father's belongings. The funeral had been the previous day. About ten people had been present. They'd held a short service and then cremated the body at the city crematorium. Kate had been extremely tearful. Afterwards, she'd admitted that she and Lucy's father had been lovers for years and that she had looked forward to spending the rest of her life with him. She wasn't sure that they would ever have got married but she told the girls that they had been planning to buy a small cottage on the Isle of Skye together. ‘It would have been our retreat from the world,' she'd told Lucy after the funeral. At one point Kate had leaned across the small table they were sitting at and, taking tight hold of both of Lucy's hands, had looked her straight in the eye. ‘He was very proud of you, Lucy, you know that don't you. He might have been a man of few words but he always kept me up to speed with what you were doing and he always said it with such wonder in his voice, almost as if he couldn't believe that he was your father.'

‘What will you do now?' Lucy had asked, fighting back the tears and wanting to change the subject.

‘I don't know,' Kate had replied. ‘I might still go and buy that cottage on Skye. It won't be the same without him but I suspect that's why he left me the money. He knew I didn't need it for everyday life. I've got a good pension and a fair amount invested in various funds. He knew that.'

‘That sounds good, did you have anywhere in particular in mind?' Lucy had asked.

‘Near the Cuillins,' Kate had replied. ‘Your father and I spent a fair amount of time walking along the ridge. We'd stay in the Sligachan Hotel and then spend the day scrambling over the mountains.'

‘It's beautiful up there,' Lucy had agreed. She knew the hills well. She'd been on several university expeditions to the Cuillins and she had some amazing photographs of herself stood on an outcrop called the Cioch. It meant ‘breast' in Gaellic and it jutted out from the face of one of the mountains. It was spectacular and had been used as a location in a number of films. ‘Can I come and stay when you get the cottage?' Lucy had asked.

‘Of course, you'll always be welcome. I want us to stay in touch. I just wish your father was with us to enjoy it.'

All things considered, Lucy thought that it had been a good service and that her father would have approved. He didn't like fuss. ‘Just get on with it,' she could imagine him telling her.

She sat on the floor in the sitting room, going through the contents of her father's drawers one by one. There wasn't much in them. He was remarkably tidy. She'd found a load of files in a cupboard in his bedroom. They contained copies of his most recent bills. Gas, electricity, a few bank and credit card statements. There was nothing unusual or suspicious about any of them.

Isobel had gone off to get changed. She was going out for a drink with Jake, the policeman they'd met at the station. He'd turned up at the funeral in a dark suit, white shirt, black tie and highly polished shoes. He'd made an effort and Lucy appreciated that. He'd told Lucy that they were working hard on the case but that they weren't making much progress. ‘Nobody seems to have seen or heard anything at all,' he'd said.

‘That's not good,' Lucy had replied.

‘No, it's not,' Jake had admitted, ‘but it's also a bit odd. Normally, if there's a mugging or a murder, someone hears something and, because we know who to talk to, we start to hear rumours. We haven't heard anything at all and this makes me think that whoever did it was from out of town. Not one of our regular offenders.'

‘What will you do?' Lucy had asked.

‘We'll keep talking to people but we've also asked the police in other areas to keep an ear out for anything that might be connected.'

Lucy was pleased that Isobel was going out. She wanted a bit of time on her own but she was also happy that Isobel had met someone who seemed to be decent, honest and reasonably normal. Isobel's previous boyfriends had had little in common with each other except for their oddness, or so it seemed to Lucy. Lucy could hear Isobel coming out of the bathroom. A few minutes later she could hear the hair dryer being switched on. Lucy kept going through her father's things. ‘He was an assassin,' she said to herself. ‘He must have hidden his assassin stuff somewhere.' She had no idea what an assassin would need by way of tools of the trade but, so far, she had found nothing unusual at all.

‘Lucy, I need your help,' called Isobel. Lucy stood up and went to find Isobel in the bedroom.

‘I've lost an earring,' said Isobel, ‘and I can't find it anywhere.' Isobel was wearing her tightest and shortest dress. Lucy had to admit she looked stunning. It was black and beautifully cut, showing off her curves to excellent effect. ‘It's down there somewhere, only this damn dress is so tight I can't bend down and look.'

Lucy laughed, dropping onto all fours and starting to look between the gaps in the bedroom's highly polished wooden floor. After five minutes of detailed searching, she thought she could see it. It had fallen down between two floorboards. She tried to reach it with her little finger but couldn't. ‘I need a screwdriver or a knife to get it out,' she said, getting up and going to the kitchen.

‘You star,' said Isobel. The earrings had been a gift from her mother and she would have been sad to have lost one.

Lucy returned with a kitchen knife. She sat on the floor and slipped the blade into the crack. The more she tried, the more the earring seemed to slip deeper into the gap. Lucy changed tactics and tried to lift one of the floorboards. To her surprise, it came up relatively easily. She lifted two or three others up. The earring seemed to have slipped into the insulation that filled the gaps under the floorboards. She pulled this up as well.

‘Bugger me,' she said, uncovering what looked like a metal trap door. ‘What have we here?'

‘What it is?' said Isobel, lifting her dress up over her hips so she could crouch on the floor next to Lucy.

‘It looks like some kind of floor safe,' said Isobel, removing more floorboards and insulation.

A few minutes later both girls were kneeling down, looking at a small metal door with a keypad on it. Lucy pressed a few of the number pads. A small screen above the keypad displayed an error message.

‘Try his birthday,' suggested Isobel.

Lucy converted her father's birthday to a six digit number and entered it. The error message appeared again. She tried her mother's birthday, his old Army service number and his phone number. More error messages.

‘Try your birthday,' suggested Isobel.

Lucy entered the day, month and year of her birth. The door clicked and opened a few millimetres. Lucy put her fingers under the edge and started to open it, apprehensive at what she might find.

Isobel helped her lift the door. They were both silent as they stared at the contents. The safe was lined with black foam rubber, like a camera case. Only instead of cameras and lenses, it contained an evil looking rifle, a large telescopic sight, a few pistols, several sharp looking knives and a collection of passports. There were also a few wads of what looked to be fifty pound notes held together with elastic bands.

‘Wow,' said Lucy. ‘So this is where he hid his assassin stuff. There must be a couple of hundred thousand pounds there.'

‘I suspect this is the emergency stuff,' said Isobel. ‘I don't suppose he used this stuff routinely. The money and passports would be all he'd need to get out of the country in a hurry. And he could protect himself with the guns and knives if he needed to.'

Isobel looked at her watch. It was nearly six. ‘I'd better get a move on,' she said. ‘I agreed to meet Jake at seven at Tiger Lilly's but I'll stay if you want me to.'

‘No. You go. A change of scenery will do you good. You'll have fun but perhaps it would be better not to tell Jake about all this, at least not yet.'

‘No. I suspect you're right. He'd only jump to conclusions that would be unhelpful at this stage,' replied Isobel.

‘If you want to stay here for a few days, that's fine you know,' said Lucy. ‘I'm happy to fly down to Exeter on my own. Harry's going to meet me so I won't be lonely.'

‘Are you sure?' asked Isobel. They'd discussed it briefly that afternoon. Jake had sent Isobel a text inviting her to go with him to Murrayfield to watch Scotland play Wales at rugby. Lucy could tell that Isobel really wanted to go but the game was at the weekend, a few days after they were supposed to be flying down to meet Harry.

‘You go. I promise I'll be fine,' said Lucy. ‘You can stay here as long as you like. If you get bored or if I need you, you can always fly down and meet me in Devon.'

‘OK,' said Isobel. ‘Thank you.'

‘No problem. But try not to wake me up when you come back in. The taxi's coming at five so I suppose I'll need to be up about four.'

‘I'll be as quiet as a mouse,' said Isobel, screwing up her nose and making squeaking noises whilst she put the finishing touches to her make-up.

Lucy laughed. ‘You do scrub up well you know,' said Lucy, looking her friend up and down. ‘You look great.'

‘Thank you. All compliments gratefully received,' said Isobel, kissing Lucy on the cheek before grabbing her coat and heading off down the hall.

Lucy heard the front door slam behind Isobel. She sat on the floor and looked at the contents of the safe. She wondered whether her father would ever have told her about his secret life had he lived. ‘Probably not,' she thought to herself. She still wasn't sure what she felt about it. Her father had become a very rich man by killing other people. Sure, some of them no doubt deserved to die but was it right that her father had been the one to kill them? What would her mother have thought if she'd been alive? ‘Not very much,' thought Lucy. Lucy remembered her mother as a placid and loving woman. She didn't think of her very often but, when she did, she was overcome by a sense of life's unfairness. ‘Why my Mum?' she used to shout at the sky when she was young. She'd discussed it with Isobel when they were at school together. Isobel's view hadn't changed in all the time she'd known her. She had no faith and her view was that life was basically what you made of it. Crap things happened every day. There was no reason for any of it, it just happened. The only thing you could do was try to make the best of it.

Lucy's phone buzzed, rousing her from her thoughts. It was a text from Harry. ‘Looking forward to seeing you. Will be there at 7. Safe journey. Xxx.' Lucy smiled. It would be good to see him again. The thought lifted her spirits.

‘Coming alone. Miss you too. See you then. Xx.' Lucy sent the text and stood up. ‘Get a grip girl,' she said aloud, mimicking her father's voice. She put her suitcase on the bed and started to pack. She took some of the money from the floor safe before closing the door and putting the floorboards back in place. ‘Unless you knew it was there, you'd never find it,' she thought to herself. Whatever she felt about the morality of what he'd done, he was her father and she was determined that she would bring his killer to justice. She had a name from the letter McLeod had given her and she knew he was ex-Army. She felt sure that Harry would know how to start tracking him down. ‘And then,' she thought, ‘those weapons might just come in handy because if the police won't nail him, I will.'