Under the‘News’ tab he read that on Saturday Sir David and Lady Maria Windsor-Sackvillewere to open Sedlescombe Village Fete. Might be worth a visit, hethought. He made a careful note of the date and time and pinned it to thewall.
Mortoncarefully drew up a neat family tree for the ‘illustrious’ Windsor-Sackvillesand compared it with the cul-de-sac tree for the Coldricks. He held themside by side, wondering at the connection. There has to be somethinghere, Morton thought. As he cast his eyes over the short Coldricktree, something suddenly struck him: if his suspicions were anywhere nearcorrect, and the Dunks and Olivia Walker were helping to cover up the fact thatDavid and Maria had given birth to an illegitimate child, then Finlay Coldrickcould be in grave danger. Juliette’s suspension had just sent a majorwarning that he was closing in on the truth.
Morton raceddown the stairs, called a garbled goodbye to Juliette and dashed out to theMini. A moment later, he screeched out of Church Square on his way toTenterden.
He had been sitting on Soraya Benson’sdoorstep for over twenty minutes when she arrived home with Finlay in hisschool uniform, clutching a Spiderman lunchbox. She looked much prettierthan the last time he’d seen her and he wondered if it was the faint trace ofmake-up or perhaps the smarter clothes that she was wearing. Her eyeswere less puffy, less grief-stricken somehow. She was carrying threebulging Waitrose carrier bags.
‘Well, Fin,look what the postman left on the doorstep,’ she said. ‘Were youexpecting a worn-out-looking genealogist to be delivered today?’
Fin shook hishead. Morton guessed that he was recalling their previous encounter whenhe had made the poor child cry.
‘Hmm, meneither. What do you say we do with him? Invite him in or throw himout onto the streets?’
‘Throw himout,’ Finlay said seriously, a meaty frown bearing down over his eyes. Fairenough, Morton thought.
‘Please let mein,’ Morton pleaded, doing his best to overact the part, but actually wantingto skip the pleasantries and get down to more serious things. Like thefact that someone might be about to kill the eight-year-old currently barringhis entrance to the house. After all, everything that was going on wasbecause of him and his ancestry.
‘Nope,’ Finanswered.
Mortonstood. ‘It’s quite important,’ he said to Soraya. She nodded andthrust her key into the lock, practically pushing Fin through the door.
‘Go and play inyour room, Fin and I’ll call you for dinner.’ She turned to Morton.‘Sorry, you weren’t out there long, were you? Had to pop to a friend’sthen a quick dash around the supermarket.’
‘No, it’sfine.’
‘So, what’s allthis about then? You seem agitated.’
Morton followedSoraya into the lounge and took a seat opposite her. ‘I think Fin’s lifemight be in danger,’ he announced dramatically. As soon as the words wereout of his mouth he wondered if he should have gone in with a more gentleapproach, but after all the time-wasting on the doorstep he needed to spellthings out clearly. If Fin had belonged to him, though God knows thislittle encounter had cemented his resignation to never have kids, he would haverun to his bedroom and checked there was nobody lurking under the bed or hidingin the wardrobe.
‘What do youmean?’ she asked, her face turning pale.
Morton exhaledsharply and told her everything that he’d discovered about the Windsor-Sackvillesand his suspicions regarding James Coldrick’s parentage. Soraya listenedimpassively, allowing him to deliver the full story without interruption.
‘It does soundrather worrying,’ she said when he had finished. Morton stared ather. That was a bit of an understatement, he thought. ‘I thinkwe’ll go and stay at my sister’s for a while, until this all blows over. She lives in St Michaels, just outside Tenterden.’
‘Will you gotonight?’ Morton asked.
Sorayanodded. ‘Yes, as soon as I’ve got a bag packed for each of us. Doyou really think that Peter, James and Fin are descended from theWindsor-Sackvilles?’
This was the very reason that Morton seldomgave interim reports to clients. He was a long way from drawing thatconclusion. ‘At this stage, it’s just a possibility. For decadespeople in the shadow of the Coldrick family having been hiding the past; it’smy job to reveal it - but I’m not there yet. Certainly, they – whoever theyare – want to maintain a shroud of secrecy over James Coldrick’s birth.’
Soraya seemedto have glazed over. ‘That would be a turn up for the books,’ she saidwith a smile. ‘Related to a rich knight and member of parliament. It would certainly turn Fin’s life around.’ Her voice trailed off, buther eyes revealed to Morton that her mind was busy making alarming connections.
‘Let’s not jumpthe gun,’ Morton warned.
Soraya snappedback to reality. ‘Of course. Right, I’d better get packing.’
Morton hadwanted to try a last ditch attempt to get out of the funeral tomorrow but theringing of his mobile caused Soraya to finally check that her child was stillin one piece playing on his Nintendo, or whatever it was that kids played thesedays. Certainly not the Action Man or Meccano of his youth. It wasa withheld number, which usually meant a bank. Probably about to offerhim a better deal for his ever-diminishing fifty grand.
‘MortonFarrier,’ a male voice said, more of a statement than a question.
‘Speaking.’
‘You’ve got tenminutes to leave your house.’ Not the bank then.
‘I’m not in myhouse,’ Morton said haughtily, trying to work out where he recognised the voicefrom.
‘I know you’renot,’ the voice said calmly, ‘but Juliette is and unless you want to beidentifying her charred remains anytime soon, she needs to leave your housenow.’
‘Who is this?’he demanded, but the line went dead.
Panic mode setin.
He leapt up andran for the door, yelling out to Soraya that he needed to go, at the same timespeed-dialling Juliette. It rang endlessly. The journey time backhome to Rye was twelve minutes. He wouldn’t make it in time. Couldn’t. He looked at the clock: 5:42.
The countdownhad begun.
He jumped intothe car and slammed his foot on the accelerator. Something inside toldhim that the call was genuine
