Page 20 of Needs Must
‘For a man with pockets to let, your estate looks well maintained from the outside,’ Cal said.
‘The land is tenanted, and it is my only source of income, so it has to be maintained. As for the house itself … well, I live on the ground floor, or rather some of it, and the rest is closed up. I have a husband and wife who live in and take care of my needs, which are simple, and apart from that I have just a couple of keepers whom I am in direct contact with. I have a manager who takes care of the tenants and other properties, and I do not get involved. None of my servants leave the estate very often. They have their own reasons for preferring to remain isolated, and that suits us all very well.’
‘And is also probably the reason why so many of the local people believe that you killed your wife in a fit of jealous rage,’ Cal pointed out.
Bagshott nodded. ‘Very likely, but I neither listen to nor care about local gossip. Nothing anyone says can make me feel any worse about myself than I already do.’
‘Thank you for your candour, Bagshott,’ Cal said, meaning it. He got the sense that Bagshott had not spoken of the matter to anyone else since it happened, and wondered if he found the experience to be cathartic. He hoped so, having warmed slightly to him, odd eyes notwithstanding. He also now understood why he had closed the track, and couldn’t blame him for so doing. ‘But you did not really come here in the hope of stopping poaching, did you? Has one of Rothstein’s victims reinstated his campaign of terror against you?’
Bagshott tugged at an earlobe. ‘You seem to have hit upon the crux of my problem, Arndale.’
‘Why wait so long?’ Jules asked. ‘I’m assuming that the campaign ceased after your wife was killed?’
‘It did. I don’t know why. I just assumed my detractors realised I had nothing left to give them. Either that or they knew that killing me would have been less painful than killing Esmeralda and leaving me alive to miss her every second of every day.’ He blinked repeatedly. ‘And they were right about that. They chose their revenge with precision.’
‘And now it’s started up again, I assume,’ Cal said pensively. ‘Someone has managed to get onto your estate through the woodland that divides us.’
Bagshott nodded. ‘It’s the only possible way.’
‘Which means they have trespassed on my land in order to get to yours.’
‘Indeed. And history has taught me that they are dangerous, vengeful people. Anyway, a note was left in my entrance portico a couple of days ago, making demands, so I can prove that what I’ve told you isn’t moonshine.’
‘The writer wanted you to be aware that he could get to you at any time,’ Jules said.
‘That is my presumption.’
‘What sort of demands?’ Cal asked.
Bagshott sat a little straighter. ‘They insist that I surrender my estate,’ he said.
‘Good God!’ Jules cried.
‘I fear God has little to do with the matter,’ Bagshott said with the suggestion of a wry smile.
‘Do you have the note with you?’ Cal asked. ‘May I see it?’
‘I do indeed.’
Bagshott reached inside his coat and handed Cal a folded sheet of paper. Cal scanned it and almost jumped from his seat when he saw the signature.
‘Jonathan Harte?’ he breathed. ‘But that’s impossible. The man is dead.’
Chapter Six
Cal glanced at Jules, who understood the significance of the name and looked as perplexed as Cal himself felt. Donna Harte’s husband was evidently alive and making threats. It seemed impossible. And yet …
His taking himself off to Jamaica could explain why the threats had stopped but did not explain why his wife – now posing as his widow – had taken up residence in the cottage in which Esmeralda Bagshott had been so cruelly murdered. Had Cal really read Mrs Harte so wrong? Had she contrived to accidentally meet him and impress him with her feminine wiles? He couldn’t see how she had managed it, or what she’d hoped to gain from so doing. If she was a party to her husband’s unlawful behaviour, then why deliberately draw Cal’s attention to it?
It made absolutely no sense.
To say that he was disillusioned would be a gross understatement.
Cal ground his jaw, thinking it was a timely reminder not to take strangers at face value. He was disgusted with himself for having been influenced by a passably pretty face and a refreshingly individual character.
Cal put aside his personal feelings and thought the matter through, aware that Bagshott was sending him curious looks as he fell into contemplation. If Rothstein’s deception occurred ten years previously then Harte must be considerably older than his wife, who would still have been a child at the time of Mrs Bagshott’s death.
Had he met and married her in Jamaica? Or had he returned to England, seen her and made a bid for her hand? If her family had fallen on hard times then they would have gladly married off their daughter to a wealthy plantation owner, thereby absolving themselves of their parental responsibilitiesandbeing saved from the ignominy of having a daughter left on the shelf.
