The Second Son Page 23

  “Absolutely, boss,” James replied as they both walked back toward Albert’s car.

  Next morning Detective Chief Superintendent Inspector Albert Cross sat at his desk reading the autopsy report from Dr Sam Wright, the police forensic officer. Not suicide. Simon-Smyth had been murdered; the single shot had come from someone sitting in the driver’s seat, entering the left side of the temple, which means he had his head turned and was talking to someone sitting next to him just before the shot was fired. That’s why, due to the position of the wound and the fact his hand was found on the pistol, it looked originally like a suicide. Plus, no internal or external forensic evidence found, which to Albert’s thinking was looking like a professional hit. The bullet was from a Russian made weapon: a Makarov, which was first designed in the 1950s by Russian Nikolai Makarov. The Makarov was a semi-automatic pistol that was used by the Russian military in 1951. Due to its simplicity, affordability, ease of use and stopping power, it remained a standard military weapon till 1991. If it was a professional hit, this left Albert with an uneasy feeling. The pistol was rare; not the normal weapon the average lowlife of the underworld can get hold of. Albert leant back in his chair and thought, who could Simon-Smyth have pissed off severely enough to have a professional hit put out on him? This was not good. Albert did not want professional hit men operating on his patch. That could only lead to trouble.

  Just then his inspector James Cabal knocked on his door. Albert motioned for him to enter. Taking a seat opposite, James said, “Have you read the autopsy report on Simon-Smyth?”

  Albert held up the buff coloured folder in acknowledgement.

  “What you think?” asked James.

  “Not sure yet,” Albert said.

  “Must have pissed someone off big time, for them to hire a professional,” said James.

  “My thoughts exactly,” replied Albert. “Where are we with the background check?”

  Looking at his notes, James gave a brief outline of Dexter Simon-Smyth’s life up until his murder. “Sound a right charmer,” said Albert, smiling, after James had finished.

  “Cannot find anyone who had a good word for him,” said James.

  “What about his driver?” asked Albert.

  “Douglas Norton, been an agency driver for just over three years, did not hold his employer in high esteem,” said James. “While he was having his lunch, he was approached by a man who gave him an envelope stuffed with money, asking him to leave the keys in the ignition and take the rest of the day off.”

  “Description?” asked Albert.

  “Smartly dressed man with an East European accent, was all he could remember.”

  “How much in the envelope?” asked Albert.

  “Two thousand pounds,” replied James.

  “Tidy sum,” said Albert.

  “I agree, and just enough to make him walk away, especially with no loyalty,” said James.

  “Well, you cannot fry bacon twice,” said Albert, smiling.

  James looked at Albert and tried not to smile. Sometimes Albert’s sayings baffled him. Not having a clue what that one meant, he went on. “Flat never turned up anything, and we are still interviewing the staff, but nothing has yielded anything substantial yet,” said James.

  “OK, keep the troops on it, and let me know if anything else comes to light,” said Albert.

  James nodded stood and left the room. Albert watched James depart and thought to himself, “This is turning into a right royal mystery.”

  Life for Gerard Farthing was looking up again. After the death of his daughter’s fiancé, Stephan the late Earl of Eastleigh, he was sure his boat to further success had sailed, then a strange turn of events had happened. He and his wife were asked back to Hampton Hall for another weekend where he learned his daughter had somehow latched on to his brother, the new Earl of Eastleigh, Grenville Hampton. How this happened he was unsure, but it made the future more promising, and again having a future Duke as a son-in-law made sure closed doors would open once again.

  He did not like Grenville. On their first meeting, he thought him guarded and something about him made him seemed unreadable. Gerard always had a knack of reading people, but young Hampton was not all he seemed and to Gerard he seemed dangerous. He was pleasant enough but the conversation about his brother and the family estate left him in no doubt that if Hampton found out his involvement, his daughter or not, he would try and destroy him. That was why he decided to ignore Dexter Simon-Smyth’s phone calls and emails. Like his hero, the Earl of Warwick, the kingmaker in the War of the Roses, he would change sides to feather his own nest.

  Smiling, he did miss Stephan. He was a pompous upper class twat, but he opened doors. He had first met him in a club the Eastern Delights in Soho, which catered for men with certain sexual gratification. Stephan and his friend Dexter had the same tastes as he did, and like them had to go to specialist places to find them. He learned early on in his marriage his wife did not enjoy his passions and that side of the marriage was dead, especially after his daughter was born; but to Gerard, like his hero, the kingmaker Earl of Warwick, he would use his daughter to further his empire.

  After getting to know Stephan he mentioned his daughter, a pretty, submissive, well-educated girl, who would make a fine trophy wife for a future Duke, and to Gerard’s surprise his family were invited for a weekend at Hampton Hall, the ancestral home of the Duke of Hampshire. This delighted Gerard no end and as he explained to his wife and daughter, the weekend was special and could open opportunities for them all. Gerard could not remember the Duke’s second son during the weekend visit; sure, he was there, but in the background, so Gerard never paid any attention to him. What delighted him the most was Stephan had taken a shine to his daughter and had eventually proposed to his daughter Sara, and after some strong arm twisting and emotional blackmail on his part she accepted. This made him ecstatic with future possibilities. His wife on the other hand was not so taken by his plans and it had caused a god-almighty row between them, which seemed to widen the gap in their relationship.

  Striding into the bar of the golf course, after a pleasing round with the Chief Constable, the mayor and a leading businessman, he was feeling good; doors closed to him were now opening after the news had filtered through about his daughter’s engagement to the Earl of Eastleigh and the future Duke of Hampshire. Moving to the bar, he ordered a double Grouse while waiting for his fellow players and their lunch engagement.

  Studying the young man behind the bar, Gerard said, “You are new.”

  Smiling, the young man said, “Yes sir, started yesterday, the name is Jason.”

  “Well, Jason, a good tip for you, keep me and my friends happy and you will prosper in your job.”

  “Thank you, sir, will make a note of that,” replied Jason, smiling.

  As Jason moved away to serve another guest, Gerard thought to himself, “Bloody East Europeans, everywhere now.”

  Not giving it another thought, a hand slapped him on the back and the Chief Constable said, “My round I think Gerard, well played.”

  Jason noticed Gerard was the only one drinking double Grouse; this made his task so much easier and he would be out of this assignment sooner that he expected. Being a servant for the pampered middle classes was something that made his skin crawl. Taking his phone from his pocket he sent a quick text, just before a waitress came to the bar to order another round of drinks for table six. Smiling, Jason said, “No worries, will get onto it straight away.” The waitress turned away to study the room for any other requests.

  Quickly making a double gin and tonic and two halves of Diet Coke, the last drink was a double Grouse. Just before he placed the drink on the tray, this time he removed a small glass vial with clear liquid in. Snapping the top, Jason tipped the clear liquid into the whisky and mixed it in. The waitress smiled as she picked up the tray and returned it to table six. After distributing the drinks, she returned with her tray to her waiting station.

  Gerard picked
up his glass and acknowledged the toast made by the Mayor. “Gerard the next club president.” The other two acknowledged the toast with a “hear hear”. Feeling good, Gerard took a large sip of his drink.

  Gerard was feeling for some strange reason unwell. The room started to spin and he could feel himself get hotter and start to sweat and he felt a sharp pain in his chest. The Mayor was talking to him, and it was like he was trying to hear underwater. Everything was going in slow motion; he did not feel the hand of the Chief Constable asking if he felt OK. Gerard felt his life ebbing away. Everything was becoming blurred and sounds were distant; he clutched his chest and eventually his head hit the table.

  The Chief Constable was the first to react. “Someone ring an ambulance; the man is having a heart attack.” The Mayor rang the number and everyone rushed to help. They laid Gerard down on the floor, loosened his tie and collar. Gerard was deathly white and was panting hard.

  The ambulance arrived within five minutes. The paramedics worked on Gerard for twenty minutes before one of them stood and said, “Sorry, he has gone.” Jason picked up a crate of empty bottles and went out the back door of the bar. Placing the crate down next to the door, he moved toward the waiting car with the back door open.

  On closing the door, and just as the car was pulling away, the man next to him in the back said, “Everything OK, Janus?”

  “Went like clockwork, Ivan,” the man smiled as they pulled out of the golf club car park back towards London.

  As Grenville entered Hampton Hall, Preston was waiting for him. “Hello Preston, what’s the matter?” Grenville could tell by Preston’s face that something was amiss.

  “It’s Miss Sara, my Lord, she has received some very bad news,” said Preston.

  “Where is she, Preston?” asked Grenville.

  “She is in the reading room with your mother, my Lord,” replied Preston. Without asking anything more, Grenville quickly rushed to the reading room. On entering, Grenville saw his mother holding Sara, who was quietly sobbing on her shoulder.

  As Grenville moved across the room, Sofia said, “Here is Grenville now, Sara.” Sara looked up and saw Grenville and rushed into his arms and started to cry again.

  Grenville held Sara for several minutes to let the grief out, before holding her at arm’s length and asking, “What is the matter, my love?”

  Sobbing, Sara said, “It’s daddy, he is dead.”

  “Oh, my poor love,” said Grenville, “how, when?”

  “He had a heart attack, at the golf club while having lunch today,” replied Sara through sobs.

  Leading Sara back to sit on the settee and still holding her hand, Grenville said, “How is your mother holding up?”

  “It was she who rang me, the police informed her earlier. In fact, it was the Chief Constable who was having lunch with daddy, so he broke the news to mother,” replied Sara, still sobbing.

  “Well, you must go to your mother,” said Sofia.

  “you must my love,” said Grenville, moving to the wall and pulling the cord.

  After a few minutes, Preston entered the room and said, “Yes, your Grace.”

  “Preston, please ask Newton to bring the car around. He is taking Miss Sara to her mother’s,” said Sofia.

  “At once, your Grace,” replied Preston with a slight bow before he left, closing the door behind him.

  Grenville asked, “Do you want me to come with you, my love?”

  Sara considered Grenville’s offer smiled weakly and said, “No, I think I better do this alone with mummy.”

  “As you wish, make sure you ring me if you want anything any time, night or day,” said Grenville.

  “I promise, my darling,” Sara replied as she leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth. “I better go and fresh up and get ready to go,” said Sara as she stood and left the room. Sofia had been watching her son through the exchange between him and Sara, and now she stared intently at Grenville.

  “Why you looking like that at me, mother?” asked a fidgeting Grenville.

  Softly, Sofia said, “Grenville, you did not look shocked when Sara told you about her father.”

  “I did,” replied Grenville, too quickly.

  Smiling, Sofia cupped his face and said, “Grenville, even as a small boy I knew when you were not telling me the whole truth and up to no good, now go and see to Sara.”

  Grenville smiled at his mother and said, “I love you, mother.”

  Sofia replied, “You are and always will be my son and I will always protect you, now go.”

  Standing, Grenville leaned over and kissed his mother before leaving the room. Sitting alone, Sofia smiled and thought to herself, “Looks like Farthing tried to underestimate my boy.”; Still smiling, Sofia picked up her magazine and started to read.

  Grenville had his eyes closed but was listening to Hugo and Jonathan having a heated debate about the current state of travel, which made Grenville smile. Hugo was an ardent traveller and Jonathan was not. There were on a boys’ night out in readiness for Grenville’s forthcoming wedding at the weekend, which Grenville was still surprised was going ahead after the death of Sara’s father, but it was on the insistence of her mother that the wedding should not be stopped, which was a surprise to Sara as much as it was to Grenville. Where had, the time gone? It seemed like only yesterday he had proposed to Sara and they had set the wedding for July. That was over seven months ago, since then, Grace had been installed into her new accommodation, and Grenville and Sara visited her at least once every two weeks, time permitting. Grenville also knew his mother visited Grace as well, as they had become firm friends. The company had grown from strength to strength. Grenville had been in contact with Tom and kept him up to date with developments, which by Tom’s emails back were full of optimism for the future. Not a day went past without Grenville reassuring himself he was on the right path and his quest was just; not that he needed it.

  With the death of Dexter Simon-Smyth, Easington Investment Bank had no longer become a problem, and it was now run by the competent Forbes who had been Dexter Simon-Smyth’s unappreciated second in command and as the new chairman had steered it back to its correct path. The death of Dexter Simon-Smyth still left Grenville feeling guilty, but Grenville could not complain. The company had had some good acquisitions from the venture.

  “What do you think, Grenville?” asked Hugo.

  “Sorry old man, was miles away,” replied Grenville, smiling.

  “I asked about cruises,” said Hugo.

  “All in favour old man, in fact that’s what Sara and I are doing for the honeymoon, flying down to the Bahamas, then a cruise around the islands,” said Grenville. Looking at Jonathan whose face was a picture, he held up his hands. “I know, Jonathan, not your cup of tea,” which made Hugo and Grenville laugh.

  “Well, I cannot see why people cannot holiday in the British Isles, it is a wonderful place,” said an indignant Jonathan, which made Hugo and Grenville laugh even more.

  “Jonathan, you are priceless,” said Grenville.

  “Clueless, more like,” replied Hugo.

  “It’s not my fault if people cannot not see the beauty of their own country,” said Jonathan.

  “Spoken like a true Englishman,” said Hugo.

  “Or someone who is afraid to travel,” said a laughing Grenville.

  “Not at all,” replied an indignant Jonathan. “If I want to travel I will, just don’t see the point in it,” Jonathan went on.

  “See, Grenville,” said Hugo, “rather that the sunny Bahamas you could go to Blackpool for your honeymoon.”

  “Now you are just being crass, and twisting what I am saying,” said Jonathan. Grenville smiled at his two friends as they bantered back and forth. Since school, they had always been like this and Grenville learned early on not to take sides or comment too much. Grenville sat watching them argue with a smile on his face; he was a lucky man to have two loyal friends as good as Hugo and Jonathan.

  Grenville woke with a
n air of expectancy. Today he was getting married. “Wow,” he said out loud. Who could have predicted what he had achieved since leaving Belize? He had been in contact with Tom on a regular basis, he had turned S&T Imports into a global company, he had settled Tom’s mother Grace, saved his family name and estate, and most of all fell in love and was to marry the woman of his dreams. The last was the amazing feat; never had he thought himself as the marrying kind. Not even before he went to Belize did he imagine himself getting married. But once he saw Sara for the second time, he knew he had found his soul mate.

  Just as Grenville was thinking, there was a soft knock on his door. Grenville did not hear the knock but noticed the door slowly open, and Hugo’s head appear around the door, smiling. “Oh good, you are awake, old man,” said Hugo, stepping into the room followed by Jonathan, holding a tray of steaming coffee.

  “Come in, chaps,” said a smiling Grenville. Standing aside to let Jonathan enter with the tray, Hugo closed the door softly behind him.

  Placing the tray down, Jonathan said, “How you feel, old man?”

  “Jonathan, feeling rather good.”

  “Oh dear, that bad,” said Hugo.

  “Don’t know what you mean,” replied a puzzled Grenville.

  “Well, if you are not nervous, then it has not hit you yet,” said a laughing Hugo.

  “No, not nervous,” said Grenville.

  “Then, my dear chap, the enormity of the forthcoming event has not hit you yet,” said Jonathan.

  “Nope, still not feeling it,” replied a laughing Grenville, taking one of the cups of steaming coffee and taking a sip.

  “Well, in six hours you will be standing in front of thousands of people waiting for Sara to walk down the aisle,” said a sombre Hugo.

  “I know, well excited,” replied a smiling Grenville.

  “The man is not normal,” replied Jonathan, shaking his head.

  “Must be love,” said a laughing Hugo.

  “Thought you two were supposed to be cheering me up as my best men,” said a laughing Grenville.