Finders Keepers by Edie Baylis (8 ebook reader .TXT) 📗

physically been part of any of it meant jack shit. The man was related to that turd, Sean O’Hara and he’d done fucking years because of that joker – so anyone left related to him was fair game.

Biting back his rising rage, Jonah closed the hardbacked notebook on his desk. ‘If that’s everything, then I’ve got some calls to make.’ He had to abruptly close this meeting before he got up and knocked Saul’s teeth down the back of his throat.

Eleven

TEAGAN HESITATED ON THE TOP STEP, her heart racing. She watched Robert jam the key into the lock of the big old red door and shoved her hands deep into her pockets to stop them shaking.

Robert pushed the heavy door open. ‘I didn’t ask you to accompany me.’

‘It’s fine,’ Teagan said, smiling bravely. ‘We’ll get more done with the two of us. At least we know Dulcie will be safe at bowls.’

Robert was right. She didn’t have to offer to help. Teagan had gone along for the ride when he’d dropped Dulcie at bowls and it was only after Dulcie had got out of the car had he admitted he was going to Footlights, so it was only right she should help. But nerves were getting the better of her. Being back in the shadow of the big house brought the horror of the night Helen was murdered rushing back like a freight train.

Taking a deep breath, Teagan stepped over the threshold and her nose wrinkled up. The house smelt musty – unused. It was funny what a week of leaving an old house empty did. She followed Robert into the gloomy hallway, pushing aside the ridiculous notion that Helen’s body might still be lying exactly where she’d last seen it.

When Robert disappeared into the front sitting room, Teagan forced her reluctant legs to follow suit. ‘Oh my God! I’d forgotten how bad it was!’ she gasped.

Her eyes darted around the piles of smashed ornaments, the tipped-out drawers and scattered paperwork. She’d seen it before, but in her rush to locate Dulcie and the following shock of that night, she hadn’t taken on board just how trashed everything was.

She stared at several framed photographs of Dulcie’s dancing days at the Feathers, some she remembered having been hung on the wall, others on sideboards, now smashed on the floor. ‘It will break Dulcie’s heart to see this,’ Teagan sighed, feeling slightly tearful.

‘Yes, it’s a bit of a state, isn’t it?’ Robert muttered, tentatively treading over pieces of porcelain and glass. ‘I know I wanted her to get rid of all this stuff, but it I didn’t mean for it to be like this...’

Teagan scanned the devastation once again. ‘Where do we start?’

Robert grimaced. ‘In here. The police have warned me there’s still a lot of bloodstains upstairs, so I’ll deal with that.’

Teagan nodded gratefully. ‘I’ll get that stuff you brought with you from the car. If you could put some of those boxes together, I’ll stack the saveable things in those whilst I’m tidying up. Can I have the keys?’

Fishing the car keys from his pocket, Robert threw them to Teagan and started rolling his sleeves up.

Teagan ran down the steps to the car, breathing in lungfuls of fresh air. Being in the house was making her dizzy, but she knew it was all in her mind. She pulled a bottle of bleach and a roll of heavy-duty bin bags from Robert’s boot. Pursing her lips determinedly, she made her way back into the house. Everything would be a lot better once the house was back to normal.

Not relishing the momentous job in hand, Teagan wandered back into the sitting room. ‘I’ve got some bin bags, so I’ll start wi...’

She froze seeing Robert crouching on the floor staring at something intently. Blind to her presence, his eyebrows knitting closely together, his forehead crumpled in concentration. She edged closer, spotting a crumpled up piece of newspaper in his hand. Oh no... That wasn’t what she thought it was, was it?

‘What the fuck is this?’ Robert muttered, his voice hollow. ‘It was scrunched up on the floor.’

Standing behind Robert’s crouched figure, Teagan could now see what he had was exactly what she hoped it wasn’t. Shit. How had that newspaper cutting – the one Dulcie kept in the little table, ended up discarded on the floor? That was the cutting Dulcie showed her before – the one she treasured. The only photo she had of Michael.

Robert got to his feet, his face waxen. ‘Your face tells me you’ve seen this before...’ he growled. ‘Well? Have you?’

Teagan instinctively stepped backwards from his piercing stare, her feet slipping on smashed pottery. ‘I...’

Robert thrust the creased clipping towards her, the fragile paper all but ruined. ‘This man...’ He pointed to the centre of the photograph. ‘Who is he?’

Teagan stared at the image of Michael Pointer - the very same image which had made her realise immediately the man was undoubtedly Robert’s father. She blinked rapidly. What should she say? How should she handle this?

Robert’s face contorted with rage. ‘Answer me!’ he roared, ‘Have you seen this before?’ He stabbed his finger on the old newspaper. ‘It’s like looking in the fucking mirror!’

Teagan looked at Robert’s pained face and felt sick. She would have to tell him. She couldn’t lie – it was pointless and by the looks of it, he’d already worked things out. ‘I-I only saw it myself recently,’ she faltered. ‘Dulcie... she...’

‘Who. Is. He...?’ Richard barked, sweat beading on his brow. He paced over to the fireplace, leaning on the mantle with his big forearms and put his head in his hands, before swinging around, his eyes wild. ‘I look just like him.’

Not knowing what else to do given the situation, Teagan spoke softly. ‘He’s your father... I’m sorry... I...’

‘This person is my father? Jesus fucking Christ!’ Lurching forward, Robert grabbed the nearest intact bottle from Dulcie’s drinks cabinet. Tipping port liberally into his mouth,