A Conundrum

By P. J. Peacock

A Conundrum is the first in a trilogy about a family who can trace their line back to the 17th century. They are scattered throughout the world, but now, in the 21st century, have homogenized their financial dealings.

They are like a combination of the European monarchy and the Sicilian mafia. They kept the bloodlines pure and enc

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Jun 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781948654838

P. J. Peacock

Pamela Peacock has a degree in fine art. She has worked in a bank, in an advertising agency, and as an administrator of a theatre company. She has been an art teacher and an arts administrator. She has traveled extensively through Europe, the Middle East, and China. She now lives in the beautiful Illawarra on the south coast of New South Wales with her cat ZuZu.

Book preview

The Murder

James loved the early morning light, and today would be a perfect day for sailing. There was a gentle breeze, and although he knew Hera would not join him, his Savage Nautilus was small enough to sail on his own. At just under twenty feet, it was the perfect size for his use. He could and did on occasions put the boat on the trailer and take the two girls out for a weekend trip down the coast, but mostly, he sailed Penelope on their own inland lake.

The lake was a combination of nature and excavations over the years. There was a river that meandered down from the hills across the flats, through the waterhole the girls used as their own personal swimming hole, then dispersed itself into the lake. The river eventually made its way to the sea, but at this time of the year, the water levels were down. There was a tendency for the lake to flood during the wet season, but that hadn’t happened for years now. The lake was huge, almost like a small inland sea, and because it was fresh, water was used by all the properties around for irrigation.

There were other boats in the boathouse, but not many were out during the week; and today, being the first Monday of the month, most of the other owners were in town at the council meeting. He never did go to the meetings, and for years, when he was home, James spent this day sailing regardless of the weather. He knew he would have the lake almost to himself to think, plan, and dream. A time to be alone with his thoughts, this was the time he allowed himself to think back, to experience again his beautiful wife Penelope’s love. He often felt that he could feel her beside him when he sailed. He missed her with an ache around his heart and in his gut that would never leave.

It was three years now since her death. He knew the girls missed her also, but somehow, he couldn’t talk about it. He could give them no comfort, perhaps because he could give himself no comfort. There was a hole inside that seemed to be growing.

Today, he had more mundane and pressing issues to consider. He was determined not to allow that bastard George to have any involvement in any way with his business, and he had to make sure he kept the girls away from him and his machinations. He couldn’t understand how George even knew about the new contract and why he would be interested—his forte was art fraud. But the bastard was a slippery sod, so there had to be an angle somewhere. Some within the Family were still ambiguous about his involvement in that Turner fiasco all those years ago. James knew a few of the more conservative members of his family were still unsure of who or what to believe. George was the youngest of his grandfather’s children and, in fact, was only about five years older than James himself—just one of the problems of belonging to a family of prolific breeders.

George was, on first acquaintance, the perfect gentleman: charming, sophisticated, with a fine sense of humour. He was tall, incredibly good-looking, with dark hair and a great body. But he was manipulative, totally self-centred and with absolutely no discernible conscience.

George still blamed him for his inability to allow the fraud to progress and for him calling the authorities in. There was no way James would ever become embroiled in any of George’s schemes nor allow anyone he knew to have anything to do with him. He was completely untrustworthy. Somehow, he had to put a stop to whatever George was planning, so first of all, he had to make contact with Justin, of course. Justin would know how to deal with him.

James took his mobile from his pocket; an SMS would be the easiest for a first contact. But the day was fine, the wind just right and James felt himself relaxing. The sails were set, and with the wheel lightly clasped in his right hand, he took a deep breath of the clean, clear air. He was looking forward to several hours of sailing to rejuvenate his spirits.

Relaxing in the cockpit with a beer in one hand, James thought about the immediate answer to his text message to Justin. It was disturbing, even more so than he had first envisaged, and Justin had advised caution and to remain alert. What did that mean?

He became aware of a boat with an outboard motor approaching from the shore and someone waving to him. He brought the boat around and waited. Taking out the binoculars, he scanned the occupant of the boat. No one he knew, so he was not from around here. He was young and fit looking, but only one man. Should not be a problem. It was strange, though, to be hailed by someone unless there was some problem at home.

James waited for the small boat to come alongside and was reaching over to take the hand held out to him when he realised too late that the hand held a small pistol within the palm pointed at his midriff. He started to move away when the gun jerked, and he felt the pellet hit him in the chest then another and another. There had been no sound; the gun was silenced.

James felt his limbs becoming heavy, his thinking becoming fuzzy; there was no pain, just his mind clouding. He had been tranquillised. Then he was falling and managed to gasp, ‘Why?’

He was on his back peering up as his assailant—he didn’t recognise the young assassin—bent over him. ‘It’s nothing personal. You’re just in the way. But don’t worry, we’ll look after the girls for you’.

James struggled frantically against the horror of those words as the darkness closed in around him.

Prologue Two

The Dream

They were running silently on the balls of their feet, trying desperately to outrun the darkness following. Somehow, Bede knew it was imperative to be as silent as possible. Fear filled her mind and her heart. Fear for Hera and herself. She knew they would die this day, and not easily, so they ran. They ran through the darkness, away from the awful fear-generating being behind them. The rasping breath being dragged out of her straining lungs wasn’t helping. Her heart was pounding, and perspiration was running down her face and into her eyes. This fear was real, the threat real, but impossible to understand. How had this happened? Bede looked to her left and saw again the dark stranger running beside them. He urged them on with whispered words of encouragement. Where had he come from? Who was he? How had he known they were in danger? What was this insanity that threatened them? And where, where were they were running to?

He was running easily with an athlete’s natural grace. His much longer legs kept pace with both of them. Why didn’t he just leave them? He could probably outrun this danger, but was staying with her and her sister. His whispered words were encouraging, and somehow, the words were keeping anxiety at bay. It was like having a guardian running beside them, someone to protect and care for them, something she and Hera had fantasised about when they were younger and their father was away so much. But there was something more about this stranger, some other disturbing element flickering across the nape of her neck and at the edges of her mind. Something familiar. She felt she should know this person.

Why had they accepted this insane challenge? What had made them think that it was a prank? This was so serious; it wasn’t possible to let up. Her heart was pounding so hard, her breath was rasping in her throat and her legs were starting to shake. Maybe it would be easier to just lie down and see what happened. Let the darkness envelop them all.

The dark stranger was not only keeping pace with them, he was also encouraging them to keep going. Bede heard his whispered words and strengthened her legs to keep them moving. His strength reached across the distance like a physical stroking across her shoulders and down her arms. The warmth was visceral. But the anxiety and fear she felt was very real. Again, her legs started to shake. She stumbled and could not go on. The stranger running beside her reached out and, to her amazement, swept her up into his arms and continued to run with her. Clinging to shoulders more like steel than flesh, she wondered how he could do this. But at least her heart was slowing, and her legs had stopped shaking.

In the next instant, he murmured into her ear, ‘I’m going to put you down again in a minute, so be prepared. You must continue to run. I can only help so much. You must take over again’. He pressed his lips to her temple and then slowly moved them down to the corner of her mouth. Their lips clung for a timeless, breathless moment. His breath was warm on her skin, and his lips sent tingling sensations wherever they touched. She wanted to turn in his arms and cling, but he was already lowering her to the ground while still running, and then she too was running. He was no longer there beside them.

Was she hallucinating? Had he really been there? But she remembered his arms, his lips, his warm breath and those strong shoulders. Surely he was real. She reached out and touched her sister’s fingers for encouragement and reassurance.

Hera managed a small chuckle. They were both running strongly now. They would reach safety this night, and later, they would discover what had really been behind the challenge issued to bring them to this underground tunnel.

Chapter One

Going Home

Bede rolled over in bed and slowly opened her eyes. It was very early morning. She turned to the window, and there was light just streaking the horizon. The dream had been so very real. She could still feel her heart pumping and the fear coursing through her; her legs almost ached with remembered strain. There was something so familiar about the dark mysterious stranger. She was sure she would remember those dark mesmerising eyes and that body like steel. The feel of his arms around her and his lips on hers stirred a deep memory, or was it simply desire?

She lay quietly, still caught in the miasma of those moments. She could still feel his lips on hers and the fear running through him. She knew in the way of dreams that his fear had been for her and her sister, not for himself.

Over the last weeks, her dreams had become filled with threats of violence, and this one had been the most explicit. She thought about her young sister. Not that Hera was all that young. She was an adult with her own life, her own dreams and desires. Still, she was the older one and had always been the decisive one, the one to solve problems.

It was time to make the journey home. The dream—or rather, the series of dreams—had become more urgent and very insistent.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she picked up the phone. It was not a simple matter now to leave, not since James’s death. There were arrangements to be made for the office, her own apartment she could leave for a few days, and of course, her small staff.

She smiled when she thought of Mikael. He was totally reliable and had been like a rock since James was killed, providing support and compassion through that very difficult time. James had trusted him completely. She felt secure leaving the office in his capable hands.

He and James together had started the overseas section of the freight service. James organised the contracts, but Mikael was a wizard with computers, and his contacts in Europe and America were invaluable. His was the driving force behind that valuable aspect, the export of their native flowers. He made sure that orders arrived on time anywhere in the world. He and James had built that part of the business together. He was older and had never married, and sometimes Bede felt a little guilty about the way they all took him for granted. But he never seemed to mind, and she was only ever a phone call away—thank heavens for mobile phones and laptop computers.

She never learned the details of how he and James had met. What series of events in their early lives contributed to the complete trust between them? She did know it had been somewhere in Europe, but neither of them had ever talked about it.

Mikael would organise for someone to come in to feed her cat and water the plants, or he would do it himself. He had keys to her apartment, and she didn’t expect to be away for more than a couple of days—a week at the most.

Early the next morning, she was on the road, glorying in the freedom of a long and peaceful drive. The road beckoned straight northeast for the hills in the far distance. They loomed a deep purple, almost black on the horizon, haunting in their magnificence. She would drive until dusk, then eat the food she had prepared, roll out her sleeping bag and sleep under the stars. This was her favourite time of the year—hot, but not blazing hot, the air dry with that desert dryness she loved so much. Christmas always seemed the worst, but now, January was advanced with the hint of cooler days to come. The stars at this time of the year were so clear and low on the horizon, she felt she could almost touch them. There were no ambient lights anywhere to dim the brilliance, the air so clear, so free of smog and humidity, nothing to block the startling light display. She relaxed and looked forward to another long drive tomorrow.

Next morning, with her wonderful little 4WD purring, Bede allowed herself to relax. She shook her mop of glossy brown hair back from her face and gave a shout of joy. She settled to enjoy this second day on the road. There would be time enough along the way to analyse her precipitous flight.

She drove quietly with her mind drifting, remembering the last time she had been home for more than a few days. Her father had been alive then. With James—her magnificent, handsome and charismatic father with his wonderful mane of curling chestnut hair—it was always difficult to remember he was well into his 60s. It was a stupid and unexplained accident that caused his death. Sailing. He had been sailing since his earliest years, so what had caused the explosion? He did his own maintenance on the engine of the boat, and besides, with the sails unfurled, the engine should not have been running. The police had never managed to make any sense of it, and even now, the case was listed as unsolved. It may have been murder, and then there had been the suggestion of suicide, which was ridiculous. Her father would never take his own life, but who would want to kill him? A simple accident didn’t ring true either. He was far too careful and methodical with anything to do with his precious boat.

He had lived quietly on their property for over 25 years, his finances were in order, he didn’t gamble or take drugs, but it was still unsolved. The unresolved case was a blot on the record of Chief Inspector Campbell, but the coroner, taking everything into account, had finally decided on an open verdict. Now, with the spate of strange and fearful dreams, it was obviously time to go back, see for herself that all was well at home.

She was in charge of the business side of the business, running the office from Perth with frequent trips to Sydney and overseas when needed, but it had been months since she had any quality time alone with Hera, well before the accident. Perhaps the threat she felt was not anything to do with the company they ran between them, but something personal Hera had become involved in. She didn’t like to pry into her sister’s personal life, but she needed to be reassured that there was no real danger lurking.

Suddenly, she saw again the face of the dark stranger. The image was so clear. His eyes were very dark with long lashes; he had thick unfashionably long chestnut hair tumbling across a very high forehead. His nose was straight, and his cheeks long and thin. The chin was firm and the mouth wide with thin mobile lips. She had only caught that one glimpse in the dream when he turned to her and smiled. Where had the light come from to be able to see so clearly? The flash of recognition was still with her, but she was positive she had never met this person before. There was something unworldly, almost fey, about him, but that smile had been reassuring and somehow supportive.

That last dream was still haunting her. She could still feel Hera’s fingers where she had reached out to touch and to encourage. Still felt the tingle across her shoulders when her eyes met with the stranger’s. Suddenly, she was anxious again, and putting her foot down, she increased the speed, ignoring the 110 kilometres limit on the road heading north. A helicopter would have been a quicker option, but the drive was one of her favourite things. To sit behind the wheel, heading into these long straight roads, the colours so strong—red soil, black hills and the grey green of the eucalypts. Only in this environment did she feel really complete. The mystery of the mountains, the flat plains and the blue of the sky contributed to the peace and tranquillity of the day. But the anxiety riding her wouldn’t be denied.

As Bede swept into the driveway of the house, Hera was flying down the steps two at a time, her restless energy always driving her. She would have spotted the car half an hour ago. They met halfway across the circular drive and fell into each other’s arms, laughing and talking. Neither seemed capable of completing a sentence.

Bede looked at her sister. She was so lovely, a slim 5’6, with honey blonde hair and huge soft blue eyes. Hera took after their wonderful mother, while Bede—at 5’10—had her father’s colouring, her hair a shiny chestnut brown with red highlights, and hazel eyes. They both had the athletic figures, which they were assured was part of their family heritage.

Bede smiled. Obviously, everything was fine, wasn’t it? She determinedly put the latest dreams from her mind and turned to greet her aunt, her father’s younger sister, now descending the steps in a much more sedate manner. Tall and elegant, Meredith smiled calmly at Bede in welcome. Laughing with an arm around each of these precious girls, she directed them back up the steps and into the house.

‘Sorry I didn’t ring, but it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, which I will explain when I’ve had a drink. It was a long drive, and then I want to catch up on all the news from here’.

Later, they settled in the living room with Mrs Robinson, the housekeeper, or ‘Robby’ to everyone, bustling around with a tea tray and of course fresh scones. They relaxed and exchanged all the latest local gossip and news.

Robby had been with the extended family forever and had been housekeeper on the property for the last five years. With the intimacy of long-standing, she smiled at Bede. ‘Glad you’re back for a few days, missy. You’re looking a little peaked’.

Bede smiled up at her. It was really good to be home. With all three sitting quietly, Bede in her favourite armchair, Hera sitting cross-legged on the floor at her feet and Meredith gazing pensively out the window, it was so peaceful. Bede finally felt the tension draining from her shoulders, and she relaxed. It was obvious to her now that she’d panicked for no reason.

They finally exhausted all the local gossip. Meredith looked up, drew in a long breath and broke the companionable silence. ‘Bede, I want to hear what’s been happening with you and why you have suddenly decided to visit. I suspect you have been having disturbing dreams too? And if so, we all need to hear the details’. She fixed her with her piercing grey eyes and waited.

Bede was startled. Everything had seemed in its rightful place, and she had sensed no tension at all in the house.

Meredith continued gently, ‘Hera and I have each other to discuss and analyse our dreams, but you on your own in the city may be really disturbed by them, particularly if they’re at all similar to ours’. She loved these two girls as if they were her own. Then she moved quietly across the room to close the door.

An hour later, still seated in her favourite armchair, Bede was now even more anxious and troubled. Her dreams were the most detailed, but neither her aunt nor her sister recognised her description of the stranger. Yet both had experienced similar dreams, dreams suggesting danger, of being chased, and running in fear. The fact that Bede’s had become more intense and specific over the last five days was a worry.

They had learned over the years to take note and listen to the messages delivered in this way, but they had never been able to come up with a totally logical explanation. The scientist in Hera insisted that they were directly from the subconscious based on something that had not registered consciously at the time. Bede, more inclined to a more esoteric explanation, put a lot of belief in their gypsy heritage, as did Meredith. But they all agreed there was a threat of some sort on the way, and there was someone or something coming to help. The feeling of recognition and connection that Bede had experienced in her dreams was inexplicable. It had never happened before. She tried to convey her feelings about the stranger, but somehow, it was too personal to go into too many details, particularly of that brief sensual touching of lips and the laughter in those dark eyes. This was no big brother or uncle, but that feeling of protection had been very strong.

Finally accepting there was nothing they could do about the dreams but be aware, they talked of other things until dinner.

It was a delightful meal with much laughter, good food and much wine. Bede, feeling the weight of responsibility towards both her sister and aunt, knew it was necessary to analyse and plan. In the morning, they would address the looming problem. They would start, she thought, by making subtle enquires of all their friends and acquaintances, the workers on the property, and even perhaps head into the interior to their friends there. They all agreed on one thing: the threat, whatever it was, was something to do with the property, maybe James’s death, and they needed to be very careful about what they said and did. It was preferable to divide up their enquiries, so she and Hera would drive into the township and then go to the club, see if there were any newcomers to the area. Meredith should get on the phone, talk to her buddies from the wider community, and all three would talk calmly to the workers on the property.

Meredith was a wise woman, an elder within the Family. This had been explained to her and Hera when they were too young to ask too many questions. And they grew up with the awareness that even in the 21st century, it was still necessary to keep the Family secrets.

The Family a name, a word to be whispered, was very large, extended and secretive, with branches scattered throughout Europe and the Americas. It was connected financially and emotionally with tentacles like an octopus infiltrating into every aspect of even this modern world, and there was no possibility to ever sever those connections.

This small, very small branch, crouched inland of this very large continent, was just one aspect. Both Bede and Hera were aware and had always been aware that there was something puzzling, something inexplicable,