‘When did you receive it?’ Larry said.
‘This morning. It’s from Mr Lawrence, from his grave.’
The team studied the envelope. It was from another solicitor in London. It was dated two days previously. On the outside the details of the person it was addressed to, and in the far-right corner in capital letters, ‘TO BE OPENED AFTER MY DEATH’. Inside, three sheets of paper. The letter was dated 28th April 2017. Only one year old.
‘I couldn’t read it,’ Molly said. ‘It’s as if he’s writing to me from beyond.’
‘Bridget, phone up the solicitor that sent this after this meeting,’ Isaac said. ‘Either they come in here, or we’ll go out there.’
No doubt you are all wondering what to make of me, and whether I was sane or not. My death, whether it was in my sleep or after an illness, or whether my end was violent, I cannot know, as I cannot predict the future. Those who have received this letter will know by now what they have been bequeathed. Some will be pleased, others will be neutral, and some will be angry. The question about my beloved wife, Dorothy, is also a question that must be answered.
But first, my reasons for the division of my assets. I was a careful man in life, generous to those I loved, difficult and belligerent to those I did not. While I have tried to be scrupulous in my business dealings, I have at times been forced to deal with unsavoury characters. These are not people of my choosing, and I have always kept them away from my family. Some of them have been villains, no doubt some of them would be capable of murder. That explains the reference to my death and the possibility that it could be violent. I have never sought the company of dishonest people or criminals, but with some of my more significant acquisitions, it was sometimes inevitable. I should say that this letter has been updated annually since I first put pen to paper over twenty-five years ago. Nobody, not even Leonard Dundas, knows of this letter and its contents. It has changed to some extent as the years have moved forward, as has my will.
If you are reading this now, then I am dead. Molly is no doubt confused, but the remainder of her life will be as agreeable as I can make it. Caroline, my daughter, is also provided for. Ralph, my son, has become a disappointment. I had hoped to give him and Caroline the control of my empire, but, alas, it was not to be. I know that I could have given it to Caroline instead, but I wanted the family to control it. Desmond Dickson is a good man, I’ve no doubt of that, but he is not of my blood. I could not give all that I have strived for to others. Caroline’s children will be eventually brought in, when and if they show the necessary acumen. I have engaged another firm to monitor their progress. By necessity, I am forced to rely on others, but I have put checks and counter-checks in place to ensure compliance and accountability of those charged with the responsibility. An additional letter will have been sent to Leonard Dundas and his daughter with full details of the auditing process, as well as the auditing of Dundas and his company.
Leonard Dundas has served me well over the years, and whereas I could trust him when I was alive, I cannot give him my unqualified trust when I am dead. His daughter, Jill, will take over the reins soon, and those checks will apply to her too. Caroline will have the most significant role in the years to come, and that is why there is to be a strict liquidation of assets policy in place. No doubt my directives will dissipate in time, yet I hope in death, as I did in life, my legacy will continue.
My beloved wife, Dorothy. I grant that some may see my isolation from the world and my reclusive behaviour as symptoms of madness. They are not. Dorothy had suffered all her adult life with a debilitating mental condition. It had become worse in the last six months before she vanished from the world. She was a proud woman who did not want people to know. If she had died, there would have been an autopsy. Such is the burden of men as successful as I have been. There was also a substantial life insurance policy in her name. Suspicion would naturally have arisen. On the day my wife died of natural causes, I closed all the shutters in the house and placed my wife in the cellar. The possibility of her vanishing from the house and dying as a result of misadventure was plausible and ultimately accepted.
It is strange to reflect that the preparation of my wife to allow her to be placed in her bed was a calming experience. She was there with me, and I wanted nothing more. Some people will see it as macabre, others as a sure sign of madness, but believe me, it was neither. It was a sign of love.
I had never been a sociable man and the attention that I received as I became all the more successful did not sit easily with me. Being reclusive in the house with Dorothy suited me admirably. Molly continued to look after me and was never involved in any way with Dorothy’s disappearance.
In time, as I aged, I have become more careless in my appearance and my health. I contacted three companies of psychoanalysts. Their names are with Caroline and Dundas. I did not meet them, although I would speak to them once a year, and go through their questionnaires, their attempts to understand the state of a person’s mind. They will attest to my sanity. Of the three companies, one
