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

And so it was that five minutes after she had spoken to Frank, he had called Ronnie French, who, five minutes after that, had called his mate Jayden at MI5, requesting a special favour. And five minutes after that, they had discovered the 999 call had come from the landline of Ardmore House, the sumptuous lochside home of Commodore Roderick Macallan.

The home of the murderer, Commodore Roderick Macallan.

Chapter 27

Maggie knew it would be the hardest thing she had ever asked Jimmy to do in the two years they had worked together, a task way outside what was reasonable for any boss to ask of an employee. Not that boss-employee was an accurate description of their working relationship, because although it might be her name on the business cards, she and Jimmy were partners in every sense. Without him, she knew there could be no Maggie Bainbridge Associates, and more than that, without him, hers would only be half a life. And floating along in the recesses of her mind was the thought she did not dare bring to the surface. Without Jimmy, there would have been no Frank. Soon, they would be back in Scotland, with a promise that this time they would find time to stop off on the bonnie banks of Loch Lomond and share another of these lovely dinners. And maybe, finally, this time, that little spark of something that existed between them might catch alight at last.

But in the end, and not without considerable reservations, she had asked him to do it. Speak to Flora and ask if you can accompany her to Elspeth Macallan's funeral. From the outside looking in, it wasn't such an unreasonable request, and after all, estranged couples often found themselves thrown together, albeit reluctantly, for family events. Weddings, bar mitzvahs, school plays and such like. Now Maggie stood in the little church yard in Lochmorehead, watching them as they waited to enter the church, Flora elegant in a full-length black wool coat, her flame-red hair tied back in an elaborate double French plait, Jimmy in a dark grey suit, white shirt and black tie, the universal uniform of respect for the dead. And in the glinting autumn sunshine, they stood silently together, looking perfectly beautiful, their physical forms interlocking as if designed for one another. She had never seen him so quiet as he had been on the flight up and then during the onward drive, and she thought she knew what he would have been thinking the whole time. This may be my last chance.

She caught Alison Macallan laying a modest spray of flowers against the marble tombstone of her late husband, no more than a few metres from the open grave that would be the final resting place of poor Elspeth.

'Hello Alison,' she said, smiling and glancing up at the cloudless sky. 'At least we've got a nice day for it.'

'Yes, but I'm really sick of funerals. There's been too many. It's as if this place is cursed.'

Maggie nodded, remembering that Jimmy had expressed exactly the same emotion.

'Your family has suffered so much. I really do hope there are better times ahead for all of you.'

'Well, you've helped enormously with that Maggie,' she said, giving a soft smile. 'I really can't thank you enough.'

'It's the least I could do.' We'll leave the details to you but you can go up to a million. That was the instruction Rory Overton had given her and she always followed her clients' instructions to the letter. Except, feeling sorry for Alison Macallan, she'd gone straight in with the offer the full sum. 'Have you made any plans?'

'Yes, I've seen a nice little flat just off Charlotte Square. I've friends nearby and it will be lovely. A new city and a new start, that's what it is, isn't it? And I won't miss this place. I thought I could never leave but I was wrong.'

'And you could always come back and visit,' Maggie said uncertainly.

'No,' Alison said, quite firmly. 'I've done a lot of thinking in the last few days, and after everything Roderick put me through over all these years, I realised that most of the memories are bad ones. The loch is beautiful of course but there's hundreds of beautiful lochs in Scotland. I don't need to see this one ever again.'

Maggie wasn't sure if this was the appropriate time or place, but she decided to ask anyway.

'I knew you and your husband were separated towards the end, but I didn't know you'd had problems before that. But forgive me, it's probably something you don't want to talk about.'

She shrugged. 'I didn't know it when I married him, but then we never do, do we? It was the power you see, and it went to his head. He was the commander of the base with over two thousand men at his command and the pastoral responsibility for the families too. There were so many of them over the years. Promises of cushy postings, the right word in the right ear when it came to the promotion boards, all that sort of thing. And all in return for little favours, if you know what I mean. He nearly got kicked out ten years ago when he got an officer's wife pregnant, but it was all hushed up in the end. And it never stopped him, he just kept on doing it. So yes, you could say we had problems. But really, I don't want to talk about it ever again.'

And yet here she was at his graveside laying flowers. She knew it only too well from her own disastrous marriage. You could love someone and hate them at the same time. And then Maggie remembered what Jimmy had told her about Susan Priest and her controlling husband.

'I think poor Susan Priest may have suffered in the same way. Her husband didn't seem to be a very