The Ardmore Inheritance by Rob Wyllie (reading the story of the .txt) 📕

John Priest was short but powerfully-built, shaven-headed and wearing jeans and a black singlet that displayed the faded tattoos that decorated each arm from wrist to shoulder. To Jimmy, everything about him shouted ex-navy. An aging Popeye the Sailor-Man in the flesh, here in Winchester, more than fifty miles from the sea. He wondered if Susan Priest might look like Olive Oyl. But then the obvious struck him. All these cards, and John Priest standing here in front of him. It must have been Mrs Priest who had died. This could be difficult.

'Yeah, what do you want?' Priest said brusquely, a suspicious look on his face.

'Petty Officer Priest? I'm Captain Jimmy Stewart, ex-bomb squad.' There was a mutual respect between military personnel that survived long beyond their service days, and it was something worth using whenever you could. He saw Priest's expression soften into a mildly inquisitive look.

'I work for a firm of private investigators now...' Before he could say any more, the other man interrupted him.

'So how'd you find out about it?'

Jimmy gave a puzzled look. 'Sorry, I'm not with you.'

'My Susan's accident. The hit and run, at least that's what the police are calling it. How'd you find out?'

'Hit and run? I'm so sorry Mr Priest, I really didn't know anything about that.'

'So if you're not here to offer your services, what do you want then?' The brusque manner had returned, and he held on tightly to the door, as if uncertain whether he should let this stranger come in.

'I'd come to ask your wife about her time when she was nanny to the Macallan children,' Jimmy said, 'but look, I can see this probably isn't a good time...'

'Bloody hell, not you too.' Priest spat the words out. 'I'm bloody sick of hearing that name.'

'Look, I'm sorry,' Jimmy said again, 'but maybe if I could just come in for five minutes? I know how you must be feeling, and if it helps to talk about it, well you know...' He hoped Priest would recognise his genuine sincerity. Because he did know how it felt to lose someone. He'd known too many of them, good blokes and brave women, taken away much too early by a savage war they had no business being involved in, and every one of them leaving an indelible mark on his life.

Priest thought about it for a moment before acceding.

'Yeah all right.' He led Jimmy through to a neatly-furnished living room, one wall dominated by a long black leather sofa.

'Take a pew,' Priest said, picking up the remote and muting the television.

'You were at Ardmore base weren't you John?' Jimmy asked, making conversation.

'Yeah I was. Did a couple of years on the subs but then my ears went all up the creek with the air pressure and all that, so they gave me the stores job. That's when I met my Susan. Do you know the place yourself mate?'

Jimmy nodded. 'Aye, a bit. My ex-wife was brought up in Lochmorehead.' It hurt him just to say the words. My ex-wife. But then she wasn't his ex-wife, not yet. Not in his mind at least.

'So my Susan would have known her then?'

'Aye, I expect she would have. Flora McLeod she was then. She was friends with the twins when they were kids. But look, that's not important right now.' Lowering his voice he continued, 'Are you able to talk about what happened John? Only if it helps.'

Priest nodded, his expression bereft of emotion. 'It was just two weeks ago. There's a row of shops just round the corner and I'd sent her up there to get me some ciggies.'

Jimmy noted the casual misogyny, causing him to wonder what sort of life Susan Priest had had since leaving Scotland. Pretty shit was his assumption.

'Nobody really saw nothing, but that's what they're like round there, they ain't going to say nothing to no coppers. I've asked a few questions myself and all I know is it was one of them little hatchbacks, black or dark blue I think, like a Golf or a Focus or something. Came screaming round the corner and mounted the pavement in front of the shops. Killed instantly she was, and now I don't know what I'm going to do without her.'

'I'm so sorry for your loss,' Jimmy said, reflecting not for the first time how inadequate these six words were.

Priest shrugged. 'Yeah, well it's happened and we just have to get on with it don't we?' It sounded cold, but Jimmy recognised it for the coping mechanism it was. 'But you say you're a private eye? So can you help me find the toe-rags what done this?'

'It's not really our line of work John,' Jimmy said, shaking his head, 'but we do have some police contacts so I can ask if they could take a look if you like.' He wasn't sure if this one was too current to fall within the remit of Frank's cold-case-focussed Department 12B, but there would be no harm in asking.

'Yeah that would be good,' Priest replied. 'That would be good.'

They fell into a silence which for several seconds Jimmy didn't feel as if he should break. But finally he said, 'Would it be ok if we talked about the Macallans for a moment? You see, I'm working for the executors of their father's estate, that's why I'm here. Your late wife was the twins' nanny from just after they were born right up until they were four or five. Until Commodore Macallan re-married I believe?'

'Yeah, that's right. That's why she was being bothered by all this business, ain't it?'

'What do you mean, all this business?'

Priest gave a knowing smile. 'Well, it was all kicking off wasn't it? She'd read about that dispute between the twins in the paper, that's what I thinks. Tried to hide it from me of course, what she was doing and all that, but I found out. My Susan couldn't hide nothing from me, know what I mean?'

I know what you mean