Читать книгу: «Third To Die»

Chapter One

Last Will and Testament

The air was dense with humidity as Aiden walked into work. With his briefcase in one hand he used the other to push open the glass door and a soft chime signalled his arrival.

From her desk in the modest lobby Betty looked up and smiled in greeting. Her hair, as always, was arranged in an immaculate bun and her glasses were currently hanging around her neck.

“Good morning, Mr. Connelly.”

“Morning, Betty,” Aiden smiled. “Is he in yet?”

“I’m ’fraid not,” Betty replied as she drew her mouth into a sharp line.

“Oh.” Aiden felt slightly dejected. The only other employee of Cope and May Solicitors at Law was Edmond Copes. The May within the partnership had previously deceased.

When Edmond was in the office, hours slipped by like minutes. The older man was an endless supply of jokes and laughter. Without him there the office felt almost unbearably empty.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Aiden wondered. It had been almost two weeks since Edmond had last been in.

“His wife just said he’s sick and will be back when he’s well enough,” Betty reiterated the original message, which didn’t contain any specific dates.

“He must be pretty ill,” Aiden frowned. “I should probably go out and see him.”

“She said no visitors!” Betty added sharply. “Edna was most fervent about that.”

To those that knew her well, Carol Copes was known by her middle name of Edna.

“Hmm,” Aiden paused in thought. He wished he could at least text Edmond but the older man was resistant to most forms of modern technology. He felt that cell phones bred an atmosphere of constant availability which wasn’t something he believed in. Edmond Copes strongly believed in upholding designated office hours. If something couldn’t be done between nine and five on a weekday it would simply have to wait.

“I’m sure Edmond will bounce back soon,” Betty said hopefully. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Edna has sent him to a fat camp or something.”

“Yeah,” Aiden laughed.

“She was always telling him to stop with the cakes but, lord, does Edmond have a sweet tooth!”

*

As Aiden entered his office, he was met with a wall of stifling heat. The sun had been shining against the windows on the far wall since dawn, slowly raising the temperature.

Loosening his tie, Aiden quickly turned on his desktop fan and stood in front of the blades as they spun around in their cage and offered little comfort as they seemed only capable of moving hot air rather than creating anything cool. Still, it was better than nothing.

Aiden glanced forlornly at the desk where Edmond usually sat. By now the two men would have eagerly exchanged stories of their weekend. Edmond was always so excited to hear about what Aiden had been up to. He knew he’d almost burst with excitement when he heard the news that Isla was pregnant.

But it was still too early to tell people. Edmond’s delight would have to wait.

Sighing, Aiden sat down at his desk and flicked on his computer. He suddenly felt exhausted, even though he’d just started his working day. It was thinking about Isla’s pregnancy that drained him. Each time it came to the forefront of his mind he felt bowled over by the enormity of it. His unborn child had changed everything.

The computer came on and Aiden opened his emails and began scanning down his newly received messages as he did every morning. He’d open his emails filled with hope but it would soon diminish to sadness. Of course she wouldn’t contact him, why would she?

*

“Daddy?” Meegan asked hopefully, her podgy cheeks filled with porridge which she spat out as she spoke.

“Daddy’s at work today,” Isla informed her young daughter for the fourth time that morning.

Frowning, Meegan dropped her spoon into her bowl with as much force as her toddler arms could muster, causing porridge to splatter across the table.

“Hey, don’t do that!” Isla snapped, reaching for a cloth to clean up the mess.

“Jungle gym?” Meegan tried a new line of questioning since asking for her Daddy wasn’t resulting in him materializing.

“Yes,” Isla nodded. “We can go play in the park today, but only if you eat all your breakfast like a good girl.”

Running a hand through her tangle of red curls, Isla gazed out of her kitchen window at the small town beyond. The sky was leaden clear and a brilliant shade of blue offering the prospect of a glorious day. Isla felt herself wilt at the thought of the impending heat. She needed to vacuum, do the dishes, make the beds and get the groceries. On a normal day these were just tasks to tick off a list, but on a hot summer’s day, like today, they became monumental chores. In the peak of Avalon’s heat Isla would sweat just walking up the stairs.

She missed the air conditioning of Chicago. She missed the way the wind would whip along the streets, chilling her as she walked and making her skin prickle. There were so many things Isla missed about Chicago that she wondered that if she started writing them all down would she ever be able to stop? Each new day in Avalon reminded her of something she missed back in the city.

“Ice cream?” Meegan glanced down at her half-eaten porridge and then back at her mother, her young eyes wide and plaintive.

“Maybe later,” Isla playfully ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Eat your breakfast first.”

“Daddy?” the little girl asked, her small voice pitched with hope.

“This is the last time I tell you,” Isla sighed wearily, pushing her hands down into her jean pockets and leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Daddy is at work.”

“Jungle gym?” Meegan titled her head to the left as she spoke and so the cycle of questions continued throughout the day until each request had been met.

*

The prospect of a new baby had Aiden recalling the time before Meegan’s birth. She’d been an unexpected gift for the couple, providing the catalyst to cement Aiden and Isla’s commitment to one another.

Back then the thought of being a father had terrified Aiden and in many ways it still did. He often lost sleep wondering how he’d cope in certain situations as Meegan got older. Would having another child just double the burden already weighing upon him?

Aiden looked across at Edmond’s empty desk and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He missed having his colleague there to talk to. Aiden had few friends in Avalon. When he’d moved there he’d imagined this close-knit community who would welcome him into the midst with open arms. Instead he’d found a close-knit community who put up high walls against outsiders, especially ones like Aiden who rocked the status quo and asked too many questions.

In Edmond Aiden had found a friend and he was truly grateful for that. Perhaps he should call Edna directly and ask if he could visit him? He was deliberating on the idea when the intercom on his desk crackled to life.

“Mr. Connelly?” Betty’s voice eerie echoed up from the device.

Aiden pressed a button and spoke.

“Yes, Betty?”

“I…case…yard.” Aiden groaned and got up from his desk. The intercom system had been malfunctioning for weeks. It was yet another thing he needed to raise with Edmond upon his return.

Aiden took the three paces necessary to reach the main office door and pulled it open, causing Betty to jump in her seat where she was sat at her own desk still speaking into the intercom.

“Oh!” the old woman cried with a fright, her glasses now perched neatly at the end of her nose as she studied the intercom with fierce intensity. Like Edmond, she wasn’t proficient with modern technology.

“The intercom isn’t working,” Aiden explained. “It’s probably easier if you just speak to me directly.”

“Oh, okay, well—”

“Not here,” Aiden instructed, glancing ahead at the waiting area which consisted of two sofas. It was rare for anyone to wander in without a prior appointment but still, he couldn’t take the risk. It was unprofessional to discuss business in earshot of potential clients.

He gestured into his office and Betty followed, straightening her long skirt as she stood up. Despite the heat she was wearing a dark-green cardigan. Betty didn’t believe in women revealing too much flesh. She considered such attire to be inappropriate. She’d much rather sweat and appear dignified whilst doing so.

“Ooh!” Betty objected as she entered the office. “It’s awful hot in here!”

“I know,” Aiden returned to his own desk and sat down. “Yet another thing that needs fixing around here. But I don’t want to do anything until Edmond is back. You know how he likes to be involved in all company decisions.”

“Yes, I know,” Betty nodded sagely, pursing her lips.

“Well, what did you need me for?” Aiden prompted her.

“Ah!” Betty clapped her hands together. “I took a call Friday afternoon for an appointment today. I was certain that Edmond would be back and able to deal with it but since he isn’t…”

“It falls to me,” Aiden concluded stoically. “So what’s the appointment?”

“It’s with a client to amend their last will and testament.”

“Okay,” Aiden looked at Betty for more details. The creation and amendment of wills were relatively standard within the company so Aiden knew he would have no trouble handling the case.

Betty seemed reluctant to proceed which surprised Aiden.

“I can assure you I’m fine writing up a will,” Aiden smiled at her. “I did a truckload of them back in Chicago with all sorts of caveats. I can handle this client, it won’t be a problem.”

“That’s just it,” Betty said grimly. “The client might be a problem.”

“Who is it?” Aiden leaned forward, his eyes sharp with interest whilst his heart fluttered nervously against his rib cage.

Betty took a sharp intake of breath.

“It’s Clyde White.”

Aiden leaned back, taking in the name.

“I can reschedule!” Betty insisted. “But you know how difficult he can be.”

Aiden knew all too well just how difficult Clyde White had been. Father to the murdered Brandon White, he refused to see his son as anything other than a martyr and demonised the very woman his son had mercilessly beat upon.

In his desire to protect his son’s name, Clyde had even made ominous threats to Isla and Meegan. Aiden detested the man and he felt his blood begin to boil just upon hearing his name.

“I’ll reschedule,” Betty decided nervously as she saw the curtain of resentment sweep across Aiden’s handsome face.

“No, no,” Aiden reached out a hand to gesture for her to stop. “I’ll go. It will be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Betty peered at Aiden from behind her glasses. “I mean, you and Clyde White have never been on good terms. And I imagine the whole reason he’s amending his will is because of Brandon’s passing. I’d hate him to be cruel to you.”

“It’s all water under the bridge,” Aiden reassured the old woman that he himself had reservations about how Clyde White would receive him. As Betty had so astutely pointed out, they’d never been on good terms.

“If you’re sure,” Betty nodded. “The appointment is at three out at his lumber yard. Do you need directions?”

“No,” Aiden shook his head slowly. “I remember the way.”

“I sure hope he doesn’t give you too hard a time,” Betty fretted. “Because the problem with Avalon is, there aren’t any bridges for the water to go under.”

Aiden nodded with understanding. Avalon was certainly the sort of place where ghosts of the past refused to reside quietly in the background.

“Three o’ clock,” Aiden made a scribbled note of the appointment. “Not a problem.”

“You always were so brave,” Betty smiled, blushing slightly. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Sure,” Aiden smiled and glanced at the clock. It was even half past nine. With an appointment with Clyde White looming, he knew he was going to be in for a long, hot day.

*

It had been a long time since Aiden had last drove out to Avalon Pine, the timber company owned by Clyde White, but the route was still reassuringly familiar to him. The day had grown sticky and hot, making Aiden’s shirt cling to him despite the air-conditioned air roaring out of the vents in his car.

After parking his car in the customer lot, Aiden took a moment to brace himself for what would inevitably be a difficult reunion. The last time he’d seen Clyde White, he’d been representing Brandy and trying to uncover the truth around Brandon’s death. Clyde had been a doting father, guarding his son’s secrets with dogged determination even in the wake of his demise.

The heat hit Aiden as soon as he emerged from the confines of his car, as did the wall of sound which accompanied a busy lumber yard. All around him there was a cacophony of sound as workers sawed, drilled and hauled timber around the Avalon Pine site.

Little had changed since Aiden had last been there. There was the same long log cabin boasting the company logo within which Clyde White, Site Manager, resided. Aiden squinted in the sunlight as he looked over at the building and, for a moment, he hesitated. He didn’t relish the situation he was about to walk into.

“Damn it, Edmond,” he grumbled to himself as he finally started walking across the lot, briefcase in hand, towards the cabin.

*

Thankfully, once Aiden entered the log cabin he was delivered from the heat outside and bathed in refreshing, cool air. He felt almost euphoric to be able to abandon the oppressive heat of the day.

A young blonde glanced up expectantly from behind a large desk. She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and let her hand hover over the telephone to her left.

“I’m from Copes and May,” Aiden explained to her, his tone friendly. “I’ve got an appointment with Clyde White at three.”

The young woman held him in her gaze for a second too long and then placed both hands on her computer’s keyboard and began furiously typing. Her long nails, painted a shade of blue more brilliant than the clearest sky, struggled to navigate between the plastic keys. She pursed her ruby-red lips in frustration.

“He’s expecting me,” Aiden added helpfully. “Well, not me personally, but someone from Copes and May.”

The woman ceased typing and smiled falsely.

“I’ve found the appointment,” she reported in her thick Southern accent. “I’ll just let Mr. White know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Aiden nodded at her and moved to sit down on a nearby sofa. He watched as the blonde picked up the telephone and swiftly dialled a succession of numbers into the keypad.

“Your three o clock is here,” she said abruptly after a brief pause. Then she placed the phone down and looked across at Aiden.

“You can go on in.”

“Thank you.”

*

Aiden pushed open the door to Clyde White’s office and was met by a flourish of crisp air. In the modestly sized room there was the same grand desk, opposite which were placed two leather chairs. On the wall behind the desk remained the same collection of framed photographs and newspaper clippings about Brandon. Clearly the scandal of the murder trial had done nothing to quash Clyde’s devotion to his late son.

Clyde White was sat behind his desk, the pictures of Brandon providing a morbid backdrop to his work day. He was dressed in a cream short-sleeved shirt and his hair boasted a greater ratio of grey to black than it had done when Aiden had last seen him. He smiled courteously as Aiden walked in and gestured to the leather chairs.

“Afternoon, Mr. White,” Aiden reached over to shake the man’s hand before sitting down. Clyde White gripped it firmly as they shook. He was the sort of man who judged someone by the calibre of their handshake.

Aiden popped open his briefcase and retrieved some documents which Clyde would need to fill in.

“I know you were expecting Edmond,” Aiden began, “but sadly he’s not in today so you’ve got me instead.”

“Well aren’t I the lucky one?” Clyde noted flatly.

“You’re looking to amend your present will?” Aiden passed some paperwork across to Clyde.

Opening a drawer in his desk, Clyde pulled out some fashionable reading glasses. Aiden didn’t remember him needing them before. He watched the older man as he scrutinized the paperwork.

“You just need to highlight what needs amending,” Aiden prompted him. “Or I can help you with it, if you like?”

Clyde sighed and placed the paper he was holding flat on his desk and looked squarely at Aiden.

“Says here I’m leaving everything to Brandon. Guess that needs to change.”

Aiden coughed awkwardly.

“I’ve been meaning to update this for ages,” Clyde continued. “Kept putting it off. Felt too painful, too final.”

The pain Aiden had originally seen in Clyde White over his son’s death still existed behind his eyes, infecting his whole demeanour so that he physically wilted when he spoke about his son.

“I’m sorry this is difficult for you,” Aiden offered kindly.

“No, you’re not,” Clyde replied bluntly. “You thought my son was a monster. You did everything you could to destroy the legacy he had here in this town.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Aiden quickly corrected him. “I was just searching for the truth.”

“And now a man of God sits rotting in prison,” Clyde sighed, referring to the real killer of his son, Father West, the man who had almost let Brandy take the fall for a crime she didn’t commit, had Aiden not intervened.

“No jury in the land is ever going to convict him.”

Aiden was silent. He knew better than to overly engage with Clyde regarding what happened with Brandy’s murder trial.

“I suppose you think I should leave everything to her,” Clyde asked heatedly. “She is, after all, my son’s widow.”

“Whoever you state as your benefactor is completely up to you.”

“She doesn’t deserve a dime,” Clyde seethed as his eyes misted behind the lenses of his glasses.

“Perhaps you want some time to think it over,” Aiden suggested helpfully. “I could leave these here and collect them at a later date.”

“No need,” Clyde raised his palm to Aiden and with his other hand picked up a pen and swiftly began amending the document before him.

“I know who I need to make my will out to,” he explained.

“Oh,” Aiden tried to not sound surprised. “Good.”

Once Clyde was done writing, he slid the piece of paper back to Aiden.

“Everything in order?” Clyde asked.

Aiden glanced over the paperwork and felt his body stiffen in shock when he saw that Clyde was now leaving his entire estate to Edmond Copes’ next of kin.

“You look surprised,” Clyde smirked slightly as he spoke.

“I didn’t realize you and Edmond were so close,” Aiden admitted.

“Edmond Copes is a good man,” Clyde declared sincerely. “Terrible thing what’s happening to him. I’ve no family left of my own to have to support so the least I can do for him is to help his loved ones after we’re both gone.”

“What terrible thing?” Aiden asked, leaning forward.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” Clyde looked delighted by Aiden’s obliviousness.

“Know what?”

“Edmond hasn’t been in work for several weeks now, correct?”

“That’s right, he’s off sick.”

Clyde shook his head slowly, a forlorn expression casting a shadow across his chiselled features. The line around his eyes seem to deepen as he looked across at Aiden.

“He’s not sick, Mr. Connelly. He’s dying.”

“What?” Aiden gripped the arms of the leather chair for support.

“Cancer. He was diagnosed at the start of the month but they caught it too late,” Clyde explained, his voice becoming brittle.

“Not many people know. He started chemotherapy last week and, well, it’s taken it out of him. The doctors aren’t hopeful for his prognosis.”

Aiden was speechless. Clyde White had to be wrong. There was no way that Edmond Copes was dying. When Aiden had last seen the old man a few weeks ago, he’d been his usual, jovial self, there was no indication at all that anything was wrong.

“You’re messing with me,” Aiden said tersely as he felt his hands start to shake. “Edmond is just sick, he’ll be fine. You’re just trying to get to me as you’re still bitter about everything that went down with Brandy.”

“Oh, I’m bitter,” Clyde confirmed. “I’ll never forgive you for trying to tarnish Brandon’s good name. But I can assure you that I’m not lying about Edmond and I’m affronted that you’d think I’d stoop so low as to make something like this up.”

Aiden used his shaking hand to wipe at his eyes.

“If Edmond was gravely ill he’d have told me,” he said with certainty.

“Would he?” Clyde countered, removing his glasses. “You’re Edmond’s beloved prodigy. I imagine he wanted to protect you from the ugliness of it all.”

Aiden stood up and put a hand to his temple. His head suddenly felt immensely heavy from all the questions it now contained.

“You’re wrong.” Aiden tried to remain composed as he picked up his briefcase and prepared to leave.

“I wish I was,” Clyde moved around from his desk to get the door. “Edmond is a good man, one of the best.”

“He’s not dying,” Aiden insisted.

“Make sure you get that processed,” Clyde said, referring to his amended will. “I told Edmond I’d get it done as soon as I could.”

“So you knew you’d be seeing me today?”

“Of course.”

Aiden sighed in frustration.

“If you’re lying about Edmond—”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t.”

“Do you think telling me this makes us even?”

Clyde chuckled slightly to himself.

“Of course not,” he clapped Aiden on the back as he pulled open the office door. “We’ll never be even.”

*

Aiden sat in his car holding Clyde’s amended will. He kept re-reading the new benefactor. Clyde was leaving everything to Edmond’s family. Surely that meant it was true, that Edmond was actually dying?

Punching the steering wheel Aiden tried to release his anguish. He wanted to scream, to cry, to run until his legs gave way beneath him, but instead he turned on the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. He knew he was due back at the office but that wasn’t where he was headed. He was going to see Edmond.

*

“Has anyone called for me?” Brandy enquired hopefully as she came down the central staircase of Chez Vous.

“No, honey,” her Aunt Carol shook her head and raised a perfectly styled eyebrow at her niece.

“You need to stop waiting on his call.”

“I’m not waiting on anyone’s call!” Brandy insisted, forcing herself to smile brightly and sound flippant.

“Uh-huh,” Carol rolled her eyes and pursed her lips knowingly.

“We’ve all been there,” Rhonda, a senior stylist, retorted from where she was standing nearby, styling a middle-aged woman’s hair.

“You need to stop waiting on him and move on!” As Rhonda spoke, she pointed her scissors at Brandy.

Brandy liked Rhonda. Like all the other women who worked at Chez Vous, she was stylish and oozed confidence. Brandy had never known women like them before. They were assertive and knew their own minds and didn’t let the men in their life own them. It was a far cry from the life she’d known growing up, where Brandy’s own mother favoured her current man over her own daughter.

“Chin up,” Carol placed her hand beneath Brandy’s dainty chin and physically pushed it upwards.

Brandy tucked a loose strand of long blonde hair behind her ear and turned to head back up to her next client. She paused briefly, a hand on the rail and looked back at her aunt, her deep-brown eyes wide with irrepressible hope.

“If someone does call, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Child, you’re a lost cause!” Rhonda cried heatedly, pointing her scissors back at Brandy.

“Beautiful Southern belle like yourself could have any man in this city eating out of the palm of your hand!”

“Thanks,” Brandy whispered politely, not wanting to point out that the problem was that the man she wanted wasn’t even in Chicago.

*

The only place Brandy was able to find solace was sat at the white piano in the worn-down hotel a few blocks from her apartment. She’d sit at the stool and let her fingers glide effortlessly over the keys and she’d lose herself to whichever melody she decided to play. Lately, the songs she played were sombre and slow, reflecting her mood.

He’d told her he was going to call. He’d told her that he was going to leave his wife and come back to Chicago for her and they were going to be together, truly together. That was two weeks ago. Since then there had been only silence from Aiden Connelly. As Brandy pressed down firmly on a deep chord she tried to push out all her pain, all her hurt and anguish. With each day that passed she came closer to the heart breaking realisation that Aiden was never going to call.

*

“Was he the smartly dressed man who came to Chez Vous a few weeks ago?” Rhonda asked as she walked along the street beside Brandy. The two women were headed out to collect coffees for everyone at the salon, a Wednesday afternoon ritual. Usually Brandy went alone, but this time Rhonda insisted on joining her.

“Who?” Brandy glanced at her colleague, frowning slightly in confusion.

“The man whose call you keep waiting on,” Rhonda said directly.

“Oh,” Brandy looked down at her feet and blushed.

Rhonda placed a comforting arm around her. She stood almost an entire foot taller than Brandy. She had jet-black hair styled dramatically into a spiked style with fluorescent-pink tips and she always wore the latest fashions coupled with her beloved vintage leather jacket. Rhonda oozed originality and confidence and, like Brandy, she relocated to Chicago from her small home town almost ten years ago when she graduated from high school.

“And I’ve never looked back!” Rhonda would declare whenever she regaled someone with her tale of how she came to be in the big city.

“Yeah, I thought something was up, I saw the way you looked at each other.”

“He said he’d call,” Brandy admitted sadly. “He said he’d come back for me.”

“He’s married, isn’t he?” Rhonda ceased walking and looked directly at Brandy. There was no judgement in her eyes, only concern.

“Yes,” Brandy sighed. “He is. Does that make me an awful person?”

“No,” Rhonda shook her head and continued walking. “It makes you human. He’s the awful person in this scenario. That ring on his finger means he can’t go leading someone on. He was your lawyer, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Brandy gave Rhonda a sideways glance and shoved her hands deep into her trench coat pockets.