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

to be. Those funeral pictures of the Macallan twins for a start, they were an absolute frigging gold mine. Elspeth pissed out of her tiny skull and Kirsty with her tongue down that guy's throat. No wonder the paper had been happy to pay thirty grand and no questions asked. The Audi had come to an unfortunate end, some teenage yobs cracking the code of the keyless ignition system and leaving it burnt out in Brixton after having their fun. At least, that was the story he'd made up for the insurance claim form. It was a shame in some ways, since he'd really loved that motor, but he knew the danger in hanging onto it after the Ardmore job. No matter how thorough the clean-up had been, there would still be all that forensic shit sloshing around. So it had been three hundred quid well spent, although the lads would probably have done it for nothing had he thought about it at the time, just for the fun of it. Nothing lost though, with the insurance pay-out already invested in a wicked Golf GTi hot-hatch with the twenty-one-inch alloys. a motor that was just as much fun to drive, but perhaps not quite as conspicuous. Smart move.

There was just one thing that continued to intrude on his sunny mood, and that was his bloody conscience. Who would have thought he of all people would have been afflicted by it, but there it was, nagging away like toothache. Well, of course it had seemed a really sweet idea at the time, leaking Commodore Macallan's big secret to his daughters. The feeling of power and revenge after the shit Macallan had dealt out to all these men and women under his command. And now he was dead. No great loss to the world of course, but he, Geordie, was partially responsible, not that anyone could ever connect anything back to him. Good riddance, that's what anyone who knew Macallan would say, so why wouldn't his conscience just leave him alone?

Well sod that, he'd just have to work through it, push these bothersome thoughts to the back of his mind. For now, he had to sit back and think through the next step in his plan. Now that he knew the ownership of that phone, and how much the owner wouldn't want the police to know they had been at Ardmore House on the night the Commodore had killed his son and shot himself, it was simply a matter of setting the price to be paid for his silence. Had he been an auctioneer, he would be starting the bids at a hundred grand minimum.

Chapter 13

It had been Asvina's idea that they should fly up to Glasgow, declaring that her firm's fee for executing the provisions of the will had plenty of fat in it, more than an enough to cover the trivial cost of a couple of return flights on a budget airline. Maggie was quiet for most of the journey, immersed in silent contemplation of all things Macallan. As far as the Commodore's will was concerned, the meeting with Kirsty Macallan had pretty much knocked the final nail in the coffin with respect to getting the three parties in the affair to agree to a settlement. Alison Macallan had said no, Elspeth Macallan had said no, and now Rory Overton, Kirsty's husband, who had evidently taken it upon himself to be her spokesperson, had said no too. It was greed and stupidity in equal measure, and there was every chance that it would result in an outcome than none of them wanted. But the issue was, what the hell to do about it?

On that subject, she'd had a telephone call with Asvina the previous day to seek her friend's advice, but the best she could suggest was that they tried to get all three parties to go to binding arbitration. It seemed like a bit of a long shot, but she decided it wouldn't do any harm to run it past Jimmy and see what he made of it.

He was in the outside seat, his long legs extended into the aisle as he enjoyed a gentle snooze. From time to time, a couple of the female flight attendants had sidled by to take a look at him, giggling and exchanging lustful glances. In other words, just a normal day in the life of Captain James Stewart, formerly of the army bomb disposal squad. She gave him a not-so-gentle nudge in the ribs, causing him to wake with a start and then look quickly all around him as if trying to remember exactly where he was.

'You were snoring,' she lied, 'with your mouth wide open. Not a good look if you don't mind me saying.'

'What? Oh sorry Maggie, it was a bit of an early start this morning.' He stretched his arms above his head and gave a yawn.

She laughed. 'Is that what you used to say when you were in the army? Sorry sir, it's a bit early for me, do you mind if I have a wee lie-in?'

'Aye, I wish,' he said sardonically. 'I was an officer don't forget. It was me that had to get all the other buggers up.'

'You poor thing. But now you've had your refreshing snooze, is it ok if we get on to business?'

'Sure, of course,' he said, giving her a wary look. 'Just as long as you haven't changed your mind about who's going to meet with my father-in-law.'

'Nope, I'll do that, we've already agreed.'

Maggie smiled to herself. That was going to be a bit of an adventure, meeting with Dr Flora Stewart's father just a week or so after she had consulted with his daughter in the disguise of Mrs Magdalene Brooks, trainee hill-walker. That being the meeting that Jimmy knew absolutely nothing about, which only added to the complication.

'I'm so grateful boss,' he said, the relief in his voice obvious. 'The old man and me are not exactly best