It's Murder, On a Galapagos Cruise: An Amateur Female Sleuth Historical Cozy Mystery (Miss Riddell C by P.C. James (easy novels to read txt) 📕

“Which they’ve done now and say it is in order. The signature is your father’s and the Will is genuine?”

“Exactly. The Will, they say, looks genuine enough and it stands,” Thornton said.

“Aye,” Alan said, breaking in on the tale, “but the difficulty is Tony Thornton wants to sell the land to the highest bidder, developers to be precise.”

Pauline looked at Frank Thornton for confirmation.

He nodded. “My brother is a man who likes his life in London, Paris, St. Tropez and all those places the rich and idle go. Only, he can’t really afford it on his present income. This lovely old estate and all the farms will be gone in a heartbeat, if this Will stands, for he’ll sell to the highest bidder.”

“You’re quite sure your father didn’t change the Will?” she asked, looking him squarely in the eye.

“I’m sure he did not,” Thornton replied, “and so is our solicitor. He’s as distraught over this as we all are. Somehow the Will was changed and we have to prove it.”

“You and your solicitor do realize, I suppose, that the only people who could have altered the Will must work in the Solicitor’s Office?”

Thornton hesitated before saying, “Naturally, we thought of that but it isn’t possible. John Ogilvie, his father and his grandfather have been the Thornton family solicitors for almost a century. They hold that position of trust because they are eminently trustworthy. It is impossible to imagine anyone in their office doing such a thing.”

“How else could it be done, then?” Pauline said, incredulous of the blind, willful obstinacy of such a statement.

“Alan says you have found many amazing solutions to problems before. Indeed, even I have heard of your successes. We hope you will be able to show how this was done and exonerate the Ogilvies of any wrongdoing.”

“This is a matter for the Police,” Pauline said.

“The Police have already stated that the Will is genuine and there’s no case to be investigated. Indeed, they practically accused me of trying to overturn the Will because I was upset at being cut out.”

“If the Will is genuine, as their experts proved, then that is the only conclusion to be drawn,” Pauline said. She held up her hand to prevent the angry outburst she could see about to begin, and continued, “If the Will is false, as you and the lawyer say, then it can only have been falsified in the Solicitor’s Office. Unless they can show it was elsewhere at some time and they failed to check it hadn’t been tampered with while outside their care, which isn’t much of an improvement in their culpability, frankly.”

“I don’t like the tone of this,” Thornton said. “Alan said you could help us but all I’m hearing is slanderous remarks about an honest man and his family’s firm.”

Pauline shook her head. “Then get a Private Investigator who will pander to your sensitivities. The answer to this will be bad for someone and pretending that it isn’t one of the Thornton or Ogilvie families won’t help you.”

Frank Thornton’s expression was thunderous but, with a visible effort, he said, “I thought you were a Private Investigator.”

“I investigate puzzles privately and people do pay me for assisting them but I’m not in the business of Private Investigator. I take cases where people want the truth and, where appropriate, justice. Neither of these things appear to be wanted here.”

“That’s not true. Everyone here knows my father’s wishes and this Will doesn’t reflect those wishes. He would never have left the estate to Tony who is a scoundrel and a leech. Our father knew exactly what would happen to the estate he loved if it should ever fall into Tony’s hands.”

That gave Pauline a thought. “Could this be simply a prank by your brother? Knowing how you and your Father thought of him, could he have substituted the Will just to make mischief?”

“This is no prank, Miss Riddell,” Thornton said. “My brother outruns his allowance every month and is constantly asking me for more money. He’s sold almost everything that had been handed down to him that he could sell. This is the act of a desperate man who intends to ruin dozens of lives in order to keep living a life far beyond his means to enjoy.”

“Did he have something handed down?”

“He had the bulk of our mother’s funds,” Thornton said. “It was understood that I, as the first born, would have the estate and so he got the bulk of mother’s money. He has spent it all, thousands of pounds wasted on drink, drugs and, well, let’s say parties.”

“What Mr. Thornton says is true, Pauline,” Alan said. “Everyone hereabouts will vouch for that. Last time he came up here, two years ago now, the goings on there, scandalized the whole neighborhood. He still has the old Dower House, you see.”

“Mr. Thornton, I understand your feelings and,” Pauline said, turning to Alan, “those of your tenants and the village at large but, I repeat, if you want to know the truth of this, you must allow an investigator to expose whoever has done this, even if it means inside your household or the Ogilvie Law Office. There can be no other way.”

“I refuse to believe it is anyone we know or have known these past years,” Thornton said.

“Then you should have no reason to refuse to have a proper investigation. Indeed, when you’ve thought about it further, you’ll see that by not investigating properly you leave suspicion hanging over your household and the Ogilvie office. Would Mr. Ogilvie be against a thorough investigation?”

“I don’t know.”

“Shouldn’t we ask him?”

Thornton frowned as he struggled with the idea of calling the family’s loyal solicitors and suggesting such a thing while desperate for an answer that made sense before the estate and its people were destroyed.

“I will phone John and do my best to suggest it without destroying their confidence in me,” he said at last.

“They work for you,” Pauline