Page 40 of Catching a Con Man

“Right, if you two could lay the table, I’m almost done with this. If you see your brother, let him know your father is looking for him.”

“Which brother?” Ade asked, collecting handfuls of cutlery from a drawer in the island.

“Do you think he told me that?” Myrtle asked, and Ade chuckled. I grabbed both our wine glasses and followed him out of the room, across the hallway and through a large oak door into a large dining room. On the walls were elaborate, medieval style portraits of the Crane family, and far from his mother’s welcoming presence, I was once again reminded of the status and grandeur of his family. There were already a few bowls of veg set out on the table, and Ade set out the cutlery in place.

Ade caught me looking around at the portraits and his lips turned down. “Believe me, I am not a fan of all this shit. But the whole house is Dad’s way of making us lookold money. Apparently, it got him more respect in the early days and he’s struggled to let go of it since. Despite the fact that new-money tech billionaires are in, baby.”

“Don’t look so smug.” I nudged him. “Right, tell me who all these people are. I need to know before they turn up.”

“Well, that grumpy bastard is Beckett,” he pointed at the picture of a surly-looking man with dark hair and stern brows. Even the portrait artist seemed keen to have portrayed him in a dark light, as there was no background to the picture. His jacket was slung over his shoulder and he was sitting in a chair, shrouded otherwise in shadow. He was darkly handsome, but without any of the joy that I recognised in Ade.

“Why so angry?” I asked Ade. “Who would want to be painted in a way that makes them look so much of a bastard?”

Ade pointed at the picture on the wall at the head of the table. It was a portrait of Myrtle and Addison Senior. She looked resplendent, but Addison Senior was posed in much the same way as Beckett was.

“Remember that bit about old money?” Ade asked. “Well, my father always liked the thought of having an heir and a couple of spares. As the eldest, he focused mostly on me. Beckett did his very best to get my father’s attention by emulating him, but he wasn’t always successful. When I decided I would rather take my early inheritance and start my own company rather than work under my father’s thumb, his attention turned back to Beckett. And Beckett was vindicated, and has done his best to act as my father always has ever since. It gets weird sometimes, and I really wish he would just lighten up. Let himself enjoy everything we have without worrying if Daddy approves.”

“I’m glad you stepped in at that ball rather than him,” I muttered.

“Why? He’s handsome, and just as queer as the rest of us.” When I looked up at Ade in shock, he smirked. “What? Surely you’d guessed that Cam wasn’t straight as an arrow.”

“Maybe…” I muttered. “But seriously? All of you?”

“Believe me, my father wasn’t best thrilled when Dylan came out to the family. He was Dad’s last hope for an heir, and when he asked ifanyonein the family might find a wife and provide him with an heir, Eliza put up her hand to volunteer.”

“You’re joking!” I laughed. “Cam’s portrait. He’s holding a dog. Is that your family pet?”

“Snuffles? Nope, all Cam’s. When he passed away last year, Cam was devastated and insisted that father have the dog added to his portrait.”

“Oh. I had no idea.”

“Cam doesn’t like to talk about it much. He’s always been the quieter, more reserved one, but Snuffles really brought him out of his shell. I have suggested he visit the dog home, but I think it’s still a little bit raw for him. And then…” Ade turned me to face the last portrait, of Eliza and Dylan together. They both looked much more like Ade’s mother than his father, with their blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. Even in the portrait, they seemed to sparkle. I recognised Dylan Crane from his roles in TV and film, as well as the tabloid reports that had dogged him his whole life. Drug use, alcohol dependency and being photographed by the paparazzi in various compromising positions with men and women had made him a bit of a laughingstock in the media.

“So Dylan’s the brother who sideswiped his own car?” I asked.

“Yes. And when I see him next…”

“What, big brother?” Dylan Crane entered the room, and it was such a contrast to his portrait that I almost did a double take. His skin was much paler than his sister’s, his eyes had lost some of that sparkle. He was undoubtedly handsome, but there was something about him that made me want to reach out and give him a hug, or a pamphlet to a twelve-step program.

“I was about to sayI’ll kill him, but it looks like the night already has,” Ade grumbled. Dylan put the tray of potatoes he was holding down in the middle of the table and slumped in his seat.

“Well, we can’t all be perfect,” he muttered, reaching for an empty glass to pour himself some water.

“We can try though,” said Ade. Eliza entered the room next with a chunk of roast beef the size of my head, and Cam followed her with a tureen of gravy. Then Myrtle entered with a plate of Yorkshire pudding.

“Your father’s coming now,” she told Ade. “Best sit sharp.”

Suddenly, my heart was in my mouth. I knew that Addison Crane wasn’t likely to be my biggest fan, and Ade had all but confirmed it. Ade sat down in the chair in front of his portrait and indicated for me to sit down in the slightly lighter one next to him. Cam took his place to my side, and with Myrtle at the head of the table I at the very least felt that I had some people in the room on my side.

Once we’d all sat, there was silence in the room. I could feel a sense of anticipation building. No one had reached for any of the food, and the two empty chairs were obvious. One at the very head of the table opposite Myrtle, with the imposing painting of her and Addison Crane Senior to the rear of it.

And then the doors opened, not with a bang, but with a creak, and the man himself strode into the room. Behind him was Beckett, whose frown seemed to mirror his father’s. In fact, it was like he was trying to copy his father in every aspect, from gait to dress sense, and he seemed to carry around a cloud of darkness with him.

And then, to my surprise, Addison Senior smiled and held out a hand across the table for me to shake. “So lovely to meet you, Tyler. I hope you’ll forgive my lateness.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr Crane.” Addison’s grip was firm, and he held on to my hand for a second longer than I thought he needed to, like some kind of power play.

“Please, call me Addison. It’s wonderful to meet you. I hear you’re doing good work at Junior’s foundation.” Addison Senior sat down in his chair, and it seemed that was the cue everyone was waiting for to dig in. Chatter erupted round the table as people reached across one another to snag the best meat and vegetables. Ade took my plate and put down a generous portion of beef before the whole thing was gone, and Myrtle topped up my glass of wine whilst I was trying to reach for the carrots.

---