“Yes, hello. This is Hamish Abbot. I’m calling to lodge a missing person’s report.”
“I’m sorry, Alex. We have to get Frederick to lodge the report as I’m not family.” He kept his hand on the boy’s shoulder as he guided him back to the car. “As soon as we get to the motel I’ll call him and he can do the honours.”
“This sucks. We’ll never find her at this rate.”
“I assure you, we will. Sadly, we have to follow a certain process as far as the law is concerned and that’s your grandfather’s area of expertise. Your mother is an adult and until she’s been missing for a certain period of time, even Frederick will have a hard time being taken seriously. In the meantime, we’ll keep looking. Let’s go and get dinner. Then I think we should make notes to keep our thoughts on track so we know what to do next. I don’t want us going over the same stuff and wasting valuable time.”
The following morning, they pulled up outside Mr. Wilkes’s house. Hamish noticed him in the garden dead heading his roses. Maggie took time to sniff at the letterbox and squatted on the grass.
“Good morning. Your garden is wonderful, Mr. Wilkes.” Hamish held out his hand. “I’m Hamish Abbott and this is Alex, Billie Stanford’s son.”
They shook hands and Eric focused on Alex. “You’re Miss Gertrude’s grandson, aren’t you? Spitting image of her as a young girl.” He nodded his head as if coming to a realization. “I thought there’d be a connection to the family, the way your mother talked about the place and wanted to find out all there was. She never said though when she came here. Kept real quiet lipped about that one she did.”
“She doesn’t really know anything about it. Gran didn’t tell her, didn’t even want to have her visiting the house. We kind of only figured it out last night ourselves after seeing Miss Primrose.”
“You sure have the look of her.” He kept his gaze on Alex, then sighed, his shoulders slumped.
“Mr. Wilkes, can you spare us time for some questions? Billie’s gone missing and we believe from Primrose that she was coming back to take you both out to the house. Her car is still there but we can’t find any sign of her.” Hamish paused. “To tell you the truth, we’re very concerned.”
Eric stood still for a moment. Then he gestured with his hand and spoke. “Best you come inside then and have a cuppa. We can talk without the neighbours hearing everything I have to say. That little dog can come in too, so long as she doesn’t pee on the carpet.”
“Thank you, sir.” Alex smiled and held the lead tight as he followed Eric and Hamish inside.
They paused to look at the photos on the wall in the hallway. Eric pointed them out, describing each one. “The house when I worked there as a lad. Bet it doesn’t look like that now. The old man let it go. Fired those that dared say anything about them girls going missing and never replaced ’em. I knew when to keep my mouth shut and do my job, even though I was as suspicious over their disappearance as the next person.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it has deteriorated. Hopefully they’ll be able to bring it back up to scratch.” Hamish followed him into the lounge room and took the seat indicated.
“Let me make a pot of tea and then we can talk. Not that I think I’ll be much help, but you never know.” He wandered out and they could hear him pottering around the kitchen. A vase of fresh-cut blooms sat on top of the old television set beside the bunnies’ ears. A rose catalogue lay on the small timber coffee table, its pages dog-eared and folded over next to the recliner, which had seen better days. Its cushions were flat and faded, obviously well used.
Eric shuffled back into the room with a laden tray in his hands. Hamish took it from him and placed it on the oak dining table.
Once they all had their cups, Eric sat down in his chair, placing his tea on the magazine. He cupped his hands on his stomach and fixed his gaze on his visitors. “Right, then, let’s be having the questions. I have black-spot spraying to get to before the sun gets too hot.”
“I doubt black spot would dare show its face in your garden, Eric. I can tell you’re an expert at what you do. Your roses look superb.” His mother would give her eye teeth to grow her roses to look as good as the ones in the front garden.
He smiled, taking the compliment. “Learned everything from my father, I did. He was the one that started the gardens for the missus at Foxborough Hall when she was but a young girl, long before she was married. Such a vision she had for the place too. Real shame when she died.”
“When did you start working there, Mr. Wilkes?”
“I was about to turn twelve. Apprenticed to my dad I was and we worked together right up until he died.” He paused and lifted his cup to his lips, taking a slurp before putting it back down. “I took charge of the gardens then and worked there until the master died. Brought myself this place with the money I had saved. Lawyers said we had to move so here I am.”
“You never married?”
“Yes, I did. Married later in life, she was a nice wee girl from town. She was a teacher at the local school but gave it up and moved out to the estate. We had a little cottage, part of the job, it was.” He glanced at a
