The Ardmore Inheritance by Rob Wyllie (best value ebook reader TXT) 📗

blood pressure, her pulse and her temperature, asked her about her lifestyle and how often she exercised, before concluding that there was nothing really to worry about, but that she should perhaps start with some gentler challenges before she went Munro-bagging.

Maggie thanked her as she closed the door of the consulting room behind her, feeling slightly ashamed of her subterfuge but elated that she had finally been able to meet the woman of whom she had heard so much. Emma was her favourite Austen novel, and if the experience of its heroine Miss Woodhouse had a lesson for the world, it was that if you started to meddle in the love affairs of others, it was liable to all go terribly tits-up. But there and then she resolved to do everything in her power to get Jimmy and Flora Stewart back together.

She just had to make sure he never ever found out.

Chapter 7

He was grateful to Maggie that he hadn't been asked to make the trip to Scotland, but that didn't mean that he was much looking forward to this assignment either. It had been a toss-up which of the twins to see first, Posy or Pixie, but in the end only one of them was in town, the other apparently in sunny Mallorca doing a shoot for another car company, this time Japanese. So he would start with Pixie, internet research confirming her to be Elspeth, whom he vaguely remembered to be the quieter of the twins, although that might be because he hadn't really spoken to her at his father-in-law's birthday do, unlike her sister, with whom he'd had way too much interaction, thank you very much.

They'd arranged to meet at a tiny studio off Old Compton Street where Pixie was making a video blog for a fashion brand. Looking it up on the map, he saw it was located in what used to be, and might well still be for all he knew, Soho's red-light district. The place was called Excelsior Media Centre, and he wouldn't have been surprised if it had once been the sort of seedy den where they produced old-school top-shelf magazines, a business now long since made defunct by the explosion of on-line porn. In preparation for the meeting, he'd dug into the twins' history, finding out that they were sufficiently well-known to merit their own individual Wikipedia profiles as well as one dedicated to their joint activities. Spotted by a modelling agency when they were just sixteen, they had been a fixture on the front covers of the teen magazines before spotting the opportunity afforded by the emerging social media explosion. Before long they were brand Posy and Pixie, lending their beauty and sass to sell everything from high-street cosmetics to take-away pizzas. Until this case had emerged, he had been only vaguely aware of the world of influencers, but it was bloody astonishing how much money they could make from it. It was all about building up a giant online following, an army of devotees who could be trusted to allow their buying decisions to be influenced by the attractive twins. He'd learnt that their combined following had reached over two million worldwide, making them the hottest of hot properties in the fast-moving market space they occupied. And he'd learnt what was apparently the phrase of the moment, from watching a dozen or so of their impressively glossy videos. On point. It seemed that for any product or service to have any merit, it had to be on-point, and only the Macallan twins were qualified to bestow that coveted accolade.

She came out to meet him in the little reception area, smiling a greeting which was warmer than he'd expected, given the frostiness of their earlier phone-call, when she had seemed reluctant to agree to the meeting. He'd guessed it was just that she was always busy. She was smaller than he remembered too, no more than five-foot-three, but perfectly proportioned, with slim hips and a full bosom which he seemed to remember reading had been expensively and expertly enhanced. She was wearing a figure-hugging black knitted dress and silvery stiletto sandals, with a string of glimmering white pearls setting off the look of high-priced sophistication.

She gave him an appraising look from top to bottom then nodded almost imperceptibly. He hoped he'd passed the test.

'Pixie,' he said, shooting her his beaming smile and holding out a hand. 'I'm Jimmy, Jimmy Stewart from Bainbridge Associates, working with the executors of your father's will. It's so good of you to agree to meet me.'

Delicately, she shook his hand then said, 'That's all right Jimmy, it's very nice to meet you.' If she remembered their previous brief encounter at his father-in-law's party, she wasn't letting on for now. 'But I'm not Pixie.'

'What?' For a moment he was confused, thinking that somehow he must have managed to get the sisters mixed up.

'Pixie's dead and buried. I'm Elspeth now. What I mean is I'm Elspeth again.'

He gave her a perplexed look, she responding with a laugh.

'Don't worry Jimmy, I'll explain all. Look, there's a nice cafe next door, you can buy me a coffee and we can talk about what you came for.'

They found a table by the window, and a few seconds later a young waitress glided over, smiling an embarrassed smile which suggested that she recognised the Macallan twin. Although he wondered if she knew which of them it was, a doubt confirmed by her opening words.

'What can I get for you? It's Miss Macallan isn't it? Posy?'

Elspeth seemed unconcerned by the misidentification, not bothering to correct her. Jimmy ordered a tall Americano, she a skinny decaf which for some reason he had predicted would be her choice.

'It happens all the time,' she shrugged. 'We're identical twins. It can be quite funny sometimes. And useful too, if we're feeling mischievous.'

'Aye, I can imagine,' Jimmy said. 'I've got a brother, but nobody would ever mix us up, I can tell you that. But anyway,