Strength to Strength

By Carol Radstone

When Susan inherited East View House, she had no idea that its location was the hub of international criminal activities. Neither did Richard Morgan, together with his partner Big Bob McAlister, when asked to investigate the activities of a suspect , thought to be acting suspiciously in his horse racing activities, would turn out to be the master mind behind the international criminal activities centred around East View House.

Neither did Richard realise the fire in him that Susan would ignite, nor the dangers that he and Bob would face, as their investigation takes them to the coastal areas of Suffolk, agricultural Norfolk and across the North Sea to the Netherlands and Germany.

From horse race fixing, illegal immigrant workers and under aged trafficking, Richard and Bob investigate, whilst their working partnership goes from Strength to Strength.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Oct 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499090185

Carol Radstone

Carol trained as a designer at St. Martin’s School of Art in London. Marriage, divorce and children meant hungry mouths, demanding that she found herself a ‘proper job’, so back to college where she achieved a Diploma in Management Studies and enjoyed a long career as a management development consultant and trainer, in the UK and Eastern Europe. She now commutes between the UK and rural South West France and employs a full lifetime’s experience in her passion for writing.

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Carol Radstone.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4990-9017-8

                eBook           978-1-4990-9018-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/09/2014

Xlibris

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Epilogue

Chapter 1

It was a miserable cold rainy day, Friday, the fifteenth of January. There were seven people waiting in the office of Selby and Gray, solicitors. Despite the outside temperature, the room was becoming stuffy, and Susan definitely did not want to be there.

She had received the letter five days previously and assumed that the others with her had also received a similar notification. She was feeling nervous, uncomfortable, extremely lonely, and despite her nervousness, more and more angry by the curious, rather hostile looks that were coming her way. Everyone else in that room was talking in a low voice to somebody. Susan was alone, and she avoided the looks that were being directed towards her by examining the room and its contents.

They had been met in the outer office by a pleasant young woman who had kindly, and with great courtesy, shown them in and invited them to sit down on the row of chairs arranged in a semi-circle in front of a large and imposing desk. They were assured, in a voice full of respect, that Mr Philpot would not be long. She had then quietly left the room, and for a while no one spoke.

As the atmosphere became increasingly more uncomfortable, people began to fidget in their chairs. A few of Susan’s companions started conversing in whispers. From the number of glances she received, it was obvious that she was being spoken about. She guessed that they were probably friends and relatives of Arnold, whose will they had been summoned to hear. Why were they all looking at her? She felt so uncomfortable and wished she was anywhere but here in this stuffy office, with six people looking at her in what appeared to be a most unfriendly way. Haven’t I been through enough? she thought, feeling very sorry for herself. Enough of this, she then chided to herself. So you have lost a dear one, so has everyone else in this room.

The building they were in was situated in a business area of Bournemouth, not far from the town centre.

Bournemouth’s location on the south coast of England has made it a popular destination for both tourists and retired people alike. The town is also a regional centre of business, home of the Bournemouth International Centre and several financial companies: A recent survey found Bournemouth to be the happiest place in Britain with 82 per cent of people questioned saying that they were happy with their life. Apparently it is also the safest place in the UK to live. Violent crimes are recorded as far below the national average.

The latter information Susan learnt from reading a framed newspaper article on the wall. She read it as they waited; it was something to do and a way of taking her mind off the others in that room and her own unhappiness and nervousness.

As she looked around her, she imagined that the building must once have been a family town house many years ago, but now, like so many of the others in this imposing terrace, it was being used as a professional office. The room in which they waited had a high ceiling and lovely tall windows which, unfortunately, because of its current use, were covered by vertical office blinds. As she sat there waiting, she imagined what the windows must have looked like, dressed with sumptuously draped curtains, in a more elegant time. The original fireplace had been left as is and the mantle shelf now carried a row of similarly bound legal books.

She was examining the room, still not having spoken with any of the other occupants, when a middle-aged gentleman accompanied by a woman, who appeared to be in her middle to late thirties, entered the room. The gentleman settled some files he was carrying on to the desk in front of him, cleared his throat, and looking up, introduced himself as Mr Philpot and his companion as Stella Wright, a colleague.

‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. Whereas I know that I am familiar to most of you and you to each other, for the purposes of clarity and particularly for the benefit of my new colleague, Mrs Wright’, he turned slightly and smiled at the woman seated next to him, behind the desk, ‘I’m going to ask each of you to introduce yourselves and explain your relationship to Arnold Gregory, whose will we will be reading this afternoon.’ Having delivered his introduction, he sat down and looked towards a rather large man with sandy coloured hair sitting at the far end of the semi-circle.

Susan couldn’t help thinking as Philpot sat down, his rather pompous voice still in her ears, This is going to be a very boring afternoon. Why, oh, why am I here? If she thought Philpot was boring, that was nothing compared to the next speaker, who stood up only to be indicated to remain seated by Mrs Wright, which brought about an irritated frown on his face.

‘My name is Bertrand Gregory, younger half-brother of Arnold, ex-army, and now a director of an important organisation, which because of security must remain unnamed. I am also a senior member of the family firm of Gregory and Freemantle. For the benefit of Mrs Wright and others who may be uninformed, and who are not a member of this family,’ he said, looking directly at Susan – his look was both intimidating and scary, ‘it is a successful firm of stockbrokers and investment advisors. My father and his brother Norman Gregory inherited the business from my grandfather.’ Again, Susan received a very aggressive look which for the life of her she couldn’t understand. She had never before met the man for whom she was rapidly forming a dislike.

‘Is your wife not with you?’ Mr Philpot enquired.

‘No, she’s a bit under the weather’ was the terse response. He quietly added as he turned to sit down, ‘As usual.’

As he sat down, a younger man sitting to his right started to rise, then remembering Mrs Wright’s signal sat back down again. ‘I’m Edward, eldest son of Bertrand.’ This was delivered in a casual, flat, and what appeared to be almost apologetic tone. His voice was very quiet; they had to lean forward to hear it. He looked to be in his middle to late twenties. Unlike his father who had a very upright, military bearing, Edward slouched in his chair. Like his father, he appeared to be tall, but as he was sitting, it was difficult to tell. Unlike his father who was overweight with a substantial stomach, Edward was so thin one could almost have said he was emaciated. ‘After university I took a year out, and for the past two years I have been establishing myself as an architect.’

Now Susan really had to force herself to concentrate. She had no idea what the outcome of this meeting was to be; she just knew that she was becoming very irritated by all these details. Normally she was very patient and interested in other people, but just at that moment she was feeling very sorry for herself for the loss of Arnold, such a dear man. Arnold had done so much to restore her self-confidence over the past years. She missed him so much.

The second young man then introduced himself. He was not so tall, and whereas the other two had fair colouring with sandy coloured hair, he couldn’t have been much taller than Susan and his hair was dark brown. He appeared to be in his early twenties.

‘I’m the younger son of the family. My name is Tim.’

‘Timothy,’ his father barked.

‘Yes, Timothy,’ he rather nervously corrected himself. ‘I’m still at university and will probably join the family firm when I leave.’ This elicited a grunt from his father. There seemed to be some history there.

At this point, the rather pleasant-looking lady sitting next to Susan spoke, ‘I’m Jane, Bertrand’s younger sister. These two young ladies are my two youngest daughters.’ Indicating each young woman in turn, she continued, ‘Yvonne is the youngest, then there is Fiona. They are both at college and Anna, the eldest, is at university in Edinburgh studying medicine, therefore unable to attend.’ She turned to face the two young women sitting alongside her. ‘I hope you don’t mind, girls, but I felt that it would move proceedings along a bit if I did the introductions for you.’ After saying this, she gave her brother a rather withering look. ‘Oh, I’m not so sure if it’s important, but I am not in the family business. I have my own practice as a physiotherapist and I’m divorced.’

Susan couldn’t help but think sarcastically, Happy families!

As she was about to speak, Mr Philpot indicated that he had something to say.

‘Thank you all for identifying yourselves for Mrs Wright and for Mrs Susan Legarde. As the rest of you are family and already know each other, I feel it is only courteous of me to introduce Mrs Legarde. She has been your uncle’s constant companion and nurse for the past five and a half years, and it is at his request that she is present today.’ Susan smiled acknowledgement to the rest of the gathering, but received only stony looks in return except from Jane, who smiled back.

‘Probate has been completed and all necessary financial affairs settled with regard to the late Mr Arnold Gregory’s last will and testament. Before we begin though, I suggest we retire to the outer office and take some tea. There are a few matters that I need to discuss with my colleague here.’

They filed out of the room, and two separate family groups formed as they were handed cups of tea and offered a plate of biscuits. Susan found a chair next to a small table and settled there. As she sat and watched the body language of the others, she detected that there was little love lost between Arnold’s half-brother and sister.

Arnold had never married, and so Bertrand and Jane were his closest family. Although Susan had not previously met them, he had often spoken of them to her. Whilst she sat and watched, she thought about how she had first met Arnold.

Five and a half years ago, depressed and defeated, Susan was returning to the United Kingdom, having just walked out on her husband and what had been her home for the previous four years in the beautiful south-west of France. They had a traditional French home built of stone that overlooked the river Lot. Martin, her husband, had inherited the house from his parents and had lived there all his life. His previous marriage had ended a year before Susan met him.

It was whilst in the United Kingdom on holiday that he had suffered a burst appendix and was a patient in the ward where Susan was on night duty at the time. At forty-three and very, very handsome with the typical hard lithe body that many French men seemed to have, she was immediately very attracted to him. She was nearly twenty-two then and not long qualified. It was love at first sight for her. In retrospect, of course, she now realised that she was young and naive.

After he was discharged from hospital, he returned to France and his practice as a dentist in Cahors. Six months later, he asked her to marry him. They had been in daily contact since his return, Martin making one return trip to the United Kingdom with Susan visiting him twice, thanks to the convenience of low-cost airlines flying to nearby Bergerac. She loved the life and the beautiful Lot valley. She was so happy and looked forward to a stable future – to the sort of marriage that her own parents had enjoyed.

Susan was able to do agency work, and they were happy for a while, until she discovered Martin’s need for other women. Even now, she was not sure that he was any more highly sexed than other men; she just thought he needed the excitement of illicit affairs. It was only when he had moved in his latest conquest, a nineteen-year-old girl, whose parents had thrown her out of their home when they had discovered her pregnancy and affair with a married man, that she had reacted.

She left her home and her husband, feeling extremely low, rejected, and a failure. This she knew to be illogical, but her self-esteem was at its lowest. She had nowhere to go. Her parents were dead. She was their only child.

It was whilst Susan was on the ferry boat, en route to Portsmouth, that she had met Arnold or Arnie as she later got to call him. He used a cane and appeared to be extremely frail and emaciated. It was when he stood that she noticed him swaying, and fearing that he might fall, she went over to him.

‘Can I be of assistance?’ she asked. ‘I am a nurse, and I noticed you sway as you stood just now.’

‘That is very kind of you to notice and you are probably quite right. It is one of my many little health problems,’ he replied with a rueful smile. He had such a kind lined face; his blue eyes, now watery with age, still twinkled as he smiled.

‘Are you travelling alone?’ she then asked, still feeling concern for this man.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I went to visit some wonderful people that I had stayed with as a boy. I had travelled out with a nurse, but she decided to remain in France, because she met a young waiter one evening whilst we were out, and after that there was no getting her mind on anything else. She had been my nurse for eighteen months, but I must confess that I am not sorry to be rid of her.’ He paused, then having taken a breath continued, ‘That sounds terribly mean of me, but her silly giggle and constant chatter about the television used to drive me mad. Oh, but just listen to me, chatting on and telling you all about my little problems and we have not even been introduced. That’s one of the problems when one spends too much time alone. Someone kind like you comes over, I can’t stop talking. Do please excuse me.’ He said all this without any rancour. Susan couldn’t help but wonder at the selfishness of someone who could leave such a frail person to make this journey alone. Impulsively, she asked him to join her for a meal in the restaurant.

As she hadn’t eaten all day and wasn’t even sure where she would be staying that night, she thought it a good idea to have a good meal on board the ferry. Her plan was to look for a hotel once back in the United Kingdom and guessed that it wouldn’t be difficult to find a room in Portsmouth, where the ferry was heading.

‘I would love to, but only on the condition that you let me pay for the meal,’ he smiled.

‘No, I couldn’t possibly. I asked you, remember?’ She was afraid that he might think that she had tried to pick him up for a free meal.

‘I have never in my life allowed a woman to pay for me, and I don’t intend to start now.’ Although said sternly, his reply was accompanied with a smile. This was a person with a ready smile and, she felt, a warm heart. He introduced