started
howling. She picked up the flowered silk wrap, and lifted the lid of the piano stool. Inside, under a Chopin score, was a brown envelope, unsealed. She opened it.
It contained two photographs.
The first was of a face that Lexy instinctively knew to be Elizabeth’s. Wasn’t difficult. She’d been photographed in the studio across the hall, wearing an artist’s
smock, with a palette in one hand. She had turned to look at the photographer, her expression one of great tenderness. Made Lexy wonder who’d taken it. It was a black and white print, taken
with old-fashioned film, perhaps ten or fifteen years ago?
Lexy flipped it over. To her surprise it had Elizabeth’s name and the previous year’s date on the back. She gazed at it again.
Her vague preconceptions of Elizabeth had been of a spinsterish woman in her sixties. But the Elizabeth in the photo wasn’t sixty and spinsterish at all. Far from it. She only looked to be
in her late forties. Lexy hadn’t even thought to ask Rowana.
It almost gave a new dimension to the fall. Could there have been a love angle? Had she been spurned by someone? Or perhaps angered someone? Again, Lexy wondered who had taken the photo.
She turned her attention to the other print, which was in colour.
There were three people in it. Lexy found herself doing a double take. One of them was Rowana Paterson.
With her was a slim, rather tired-looking man with dark auburn hair, whom Lexy assumed to be her father, and a taller girl with pretty but hard features. Rowana’s sister, Gabrielle. It
wasn’t a posed photo. They were walking along a street together, a crowded street at that – seemingly unaware that the photo was being taken. Gabrielle was glancing sideways at a shop
window, Rowana was talking to her father, her mouth slightly open, her hair sweeping across one side of her face. He was smiling down at her.
Lexy turned it over. There was a date hand-printed in one corner. It had been taken just over a year ago. Nothing else was written on the back.
The Patersons might not have known Elizabeth, but Elizabeth knew them.
Lexy ran a hand through her hair. What was going on? She needed to speak to Rowana again. Lexy wondered what the girl’s reaction would be if she saw the photo. She wasn’t sure it was
something she wanted to put to the test yet.
Feeling thoroughly disquieted by this discovery, Lexy turned on the TV, needing noise and distraction. The reception was bad, but she managed to tune into a cop show.
But she couldn’t get Rowana out of her mind, and what the girl had said about her strange upbringing, and her anachronistic father, who had been acting ‘really weird’ since
he’d heard the news about Rowana’s inheritance. And who, like Rowana, hadn’t wanted to come here. Why? Anyone in their right mind would be intrigued to look at a country property
their daughter had just been left in a will. Especially if they were strapped for cash.
Lexy silently berated herself. The whole point of coming here had been to have a quick look around the cottage, assure Rowana that she wasn’t a teenage murderess, collect the dosh, and go
on her merry way. So what had changed?
It was that photo. Why would Elizabeth have a secretly-taken snap of the Patersons?
OK, fair enough, she’d left everything she owned to Rowana’s mother. That was her choice. But had she known that she’d died? That the daughter was already the beneficiary?
Even if she had, Elizabeth wouldn’t have anticipated Rowana inheriting her legacy for another thirty, maybe forty years. So, perhaps the really big question was – who else knew about
the will?
Lexy chewed her lip. The police had already carried out an investigation of sorts. Wouldn’t it be easier if she just kept her head down?
Of course it would be easier. But would it be right?
Kinky sat opposite on an armchair, fixing Lexy with an aggrieved stare. It had obviously sunk in that she wasn’t intending to take him
howling. She picked up the flowered silk wrap, and lifted the lid of the piano stool. Inside, under a Chopin score, was a brown envelope, unsealed. She opened it.
It contained two photographs.
The first was of a face that Lexy instinctively knew to be Elizabeth’s. Wasn’t difficult. She’d been photographed in the studio across the hall, wearing an artist’s
smock, with a palette in one hand. She had turned to look at the photographer, her expression one of great tenderness. Made Lexy wonder who’d taken it. It was a black and white print, taken
with old-fashioned film, perhaps ten or fifteen years ago?
Lexy flipped it over. To her surprise it had Elizabeth’s name and the previous year’s date on the back. She gazed at it again.
Her vague preconceptions of Elizabeth had been of a spinsterish woman in her sixties. But the Elizabeth in the photo wasn’t sixty and spinsterish at all. Far from it. She only looked to be
in her late forties. Lexy hadn’t even thought to ask Rowana.
It almost gave a new dimension to the fall. Could there have been a love angle? Had she been spurned by someone? Or perhaps angered someone? Again, Lexy wondered who had taken the photo.
She turned her attention to the other print, which was in colour.
There were three people in it. Lexy found herself doing a double take. One of them was Rowana Paterson.
With her was a slim, rather tired-looking man with dark auburn hair, whom Lexy assumed to be her father, and a taller girl with pretty but hard features. Rowana’s sister, Gabrielle. It
wasn’t a posed photo. They were walking along a street together, a crowded street at that – seemingly unaware that the photo was being taken. Gabrielle was glancing sideways at a shop
window, Rowana was talking to her father, her mouth slightly open, her hair sweeping across one side of her face. He was smiling down at her.
Lexy turned it over. There was a date hand-printed in one corner. It had been taken just over a year ago. Nothing else was written on the back.
The Patersons might not have known Elizabeth, but Elizabeth knew them.
Lexy ran a hand through her hair. What was going on? She needed to speak to Rowana again. Lexy wondered what the girl’s reaction would be if she saw the photo. She wasn’t sure it was
something she wanted to put to the test yet.
Feeling thoroughly disquieted by this discovery, Lexy turned on the TV, needing noise and distraction. The reception was bad, but she managed to tune into a cop show.
But she couldn’t get Rowana out of her mind, and what the girl had said about her strange upbringing, and her anachronistic father, who had been acting ‘really weird’ since
he’d heard the news about Rowana’s inheritance. And who, like Rowana, hadn’t wanted to come here. Why? Anyone in their right mind would be intrigued to look at a country property
their daughter had just been left in a will. Especially if they were strapped for cash.
Lexy silently berated herself. The whole point of coming here had been to have a quick look around the cottage, assure Rowana that she wasn’t a teenage murderess, collect the dosh, and go
on her merry way. So what had changed?
It was that photo. Why would Elizabeth have a secretly-taken snap of the Patersons?
OK, fair enough, she’d left everything she owned to Rowana’s mother. That was her choice. But had she known that she’d died? That the daughter was already the beneficiary?
Even if she had, Elizabeth wouldn’t have anticipated Rowana inheriting her legacy for another thirty, maybe forty years. So, perhaps the really big question was – who else knew about
the will?
Lexy chewed her lip. The police had already carried out an investigation of sorts. Wouldn’t it be easier if she just kept her head down?
Of course it would be easier. But would it be right?
Kinky sat opposite on an armchair, fixing Lexy with an aggrieved stare. It had obviously sunk in that she wasn’t intending to take him
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