Hot Blood (Bloodwords Book 1) Read online

  ‘Really’ she said. ‘There’s no need to get tetchy with David. I know that you are uncomfortable but we need to face this together and consider everything properly, not rush anything or get grumpy.’ Indeed, she thought, with a dispute like this, husband and wife needed to join together to face the rest of the family, taking them to court if necessary. But the procedure had taken its toll. Once a bright, articulate and pleasant man, he had become introverted and cool, no longer cracking jokes incessantly; no longer playing the fool or making their daughter laugh. Once, their lives had been full of laughter, but now it had all turned to sadness. Just let them get through this mess and they could sell up and move away. Make a new start somewhere far away from her troublesome family.

  ‘I’m not tetchy and I’m not bloody grumpy’ he said. ‘But the sooner we get this all sorted then the sooner we can get on with our lives.’

  ‘That’s all as maybe,’ observed the solicitor. ‘But as soon as there is money involved, the vultures come out. And in this case the vultures are seeing a fair pay day if they can exploit an illegal acquisition.’

  ‘No, hang on a minute,’ he stormed. ‘As far as the money is concerned, we’ve had the account for years. It’s nothing to do with the family at all.’

  Coming to her husband’s defence, the woman added ‘There’s nothing illegal about it. It wasn’t acquired illegally. It was all above board. We have even paid tax on it every year.’

  ‘Quite so. But with the suggestion that you coerced it in some way from your father and that you are not actually entitled to it, the whole situation looks dicey. Money laundering, tax evasion - call it what you want – it is all illegal.’

  ‘Oh come on David, that’s being a bit harsh. Lots of people move money around to avoid duties and so on later when a parent dies. I thought that if something was gifted and the person making the gift lived seven years then there was nothing to pay anyway. Surely that’s all straightforward. The account has been in Joan’s name for far longer than that so I cannot see any grounds for the family to try and grab it. As for the land, that was a gift, so what has our house and land got to do with anything?’

  ‘OK David, lay it on the line,’ she said. ‘What’s the legal position? Can my brother pull the rug from under our feet? Are we about to lose all we have worked for? I am sure that we haven’t done anything illegal.’

  ‘It’s not black and white I am afraid. Actually, I don’t think that the property is significant at all. It’s just a blind. I think he is using it to put pressure on you to give up more of the money.’

  Husband and wife exchanged knowing looks. They didn’t appear convinced. Perhaps there was something they had not told the solicitor.

  ‘You’ve mentioned that before but we don’t think it is his motivation at all. His business is struggling now that there is some competition. If you pardon the pun, to regain lost ground he needs land to expand and even then without a swish restaurant it will be difficult to compete. It’s our guess that contesting the will is his way of getting lifesaving land and throwing the money and house into the pot isn’t a ruse but an actual attempt at getting what he needs on a plate.’

  Preston raised his eyebrows. Why couldn’t people see what was in front of them? Clearly the brother could see a cash cow and wanted his share. If the guy was experiencing business problems then the possibility of a cash handout would be even more attractive, but expansion, restaurants, and grabbing his sister’s home had nothing to do with it at all. Somebody needed to steer this towards a negotiated settlement before it all got out of hand.

  ‘OK. Let’s cut the personalities. First the money. The account is in your name but you agree with your brother that it was originally your mother’s. Since she died the amount has steadily increased and we are now talking about a large sum of money. And both you and your brother agree that all of it has been deposited by your father – none of it came from yourselves.’

  ‘But that’s not the point David. Dad gifted it to us. Well, to me actually. It was his money and he gave it to me. My brother had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Well, that may not be strictly correct. As I understand it, your father claimed state benefits over a number of years, and importantly, the years that funds were being added to the account. Being blunt, had your father still been alive, with the amount of money in this account, your dad would have been in deep water with respect to benefit fraud. You simply cannot hide your wealth under a false name and then claim state handouts. It’s illegal. And if that is proven there could be accusations of fraud against you. It looks to me that your brother knows that only too well and is using it as a lever to get a negotiated settlement. Make no mistake, if it goes to court then you could be in big trouble because you clearly knew what your Dad was doing and condoned it. Not only that, if the court decides that the money belongs to the state because it came from illegally claimed benefits then they will take the lot and neither you nor your brother will get a penny.’ Or me my fee thought Preston.

  ‘So what you are saying is that although Joan’s Dad gifted his money to her because he was so grateful for how she had looked after it over many years, her sodding brother can use a legal loophole, not only to snatch it away but to take our land and our house as well. This country makes me sick. I bet if we’d been Eastern Europeans we would have been protected and he wouldn’t have stood a chance.’

  ‘No, I am not saying that. But if what you say is correct he holds all the aces and has very little to lose. If his business is under threat and he believes that he has been short changed by you two, he will likely use every tool at his disposal. You need to get around the table and talk it through. This latest escapade and fisticuffs doesn’t help either. Don’t let it get to court because if it does you have more to lose than he does - come to some sort of settlement.’

  ‘Mike was attacked. I don’t like the fact that my brother attacked my husband but surely that adds weight to our case.’

  The woman’s confidence surprised Preston. ‘Not necessarily’ he replied. ‘Without either a witness or an admission of guilt it’s your word against theirs. It doesn’t take much to twist that around to suggest that if somebody bore such a huge grudge against your husband then there must have been a reason. So if you take that argument a bit further, perhaps Mike was also the bad boy in the family feud as well.’

  Mike was incensed. ‘It was him. There’s no doubt.’

  ‘So you say, but your brother-in-law was seen elsewhere at the time you were attacked. We are walking on eggshells here and simply cannot go making accusations unless we have hard proof. We would be laughed out of court and it would cost you dearly. Believe me, you need to talk and settle.’ Resting his elbows on the desk and tenting his fingers, Preston gave them a quizzical look. Bending his head to rest his chin on his thumbs, he squinted at them over his glasses with what he hoped would be translated as ‘you are in the shit, now be a good girl and boy and let me get you out of it.’ He could see that with a little bit of luck their feud might develop into a good little earner for his practice – and he would do everything in his power to make it so.

  The atmosphere remained fractious. Looking down at his toes as he flexed them up and down, Mike grimaced with the effort and pain. Though having taken a severe beating, most external cues had gone. Nasty swollen bruises had lost their purple hue but inside he was raw and far from being as good as new. The healing capabilities of the human body were indeed marvellous, but a month on and although outwardly he looked almost back to normal, inside he was hurting. Not just physically, but mentally. Joan knew his hurt. Shared it even. After all, wasn’t this her own brother they were talking about?

  How could his brother-in-law have carried out such a brutal attack? There had never been much love lost between them but surely, family feuds didn’t go to the extent of such violence? The police had not been able to establish any connection. Dear brother-in-law had been seen elsewhere. Well the little shit wasn’t elsewhere. Just the one w
ord had given the game away. Shit. Only four letters but even that was enough when you knew the voice that uttered them. There was no doubt about it. He was the only person that hated his guts so much. The little shit that had caused him so much trouble, almost killed his business – and now almost killed him. It was his voice and no matter what the police said, it was him. And that hurt as well.

  Preston leaned back in his chair, folding his arms and waited for a response. Sitting there in front of the solicitor’s huge desk, the man looked forlorn and downtrodden. Who would have thought that this was the local celebrity whose picture had regularly graced the pages of the Visiter, Champion or Gazette, adored by his faithful following, the prince of local art?

  Like a little boy that had just protested his innocence and needed to bolster his claim, coming out of his reverie the man looked whistfully at Preston, ‘Like I said, I recognised his voice.’

  ‘Come on Mike, you had just received a beating. The mind plays tricks. Perhaps you wanted it to have been him. But the reality is that it wasn’t.’

  Painfully, Mike sat more upright in his chair. Some of the old spark was there as he responded to the solicitor. ‘Don’t humour me David. I need a lawyer that gives of his best because he believes me, not somebody that plays a round of golf with me, takes my money and does nothing.’ Most of the colour had drained from Mike’s face, making the remaining bruises prominent again. The man might be a good golf partner but this was getting serious. ‘Whatever the police say, whatever your theory of why he is trying to steal our land, our house and Joan’s money, I definitely recognised the little shit’s voice. He’s the one that worked me over. And he has split my family just so that he can get his hands on the house I have poured my life savings into.’

  ‘A lawyer doesn’t have to believe his client but in this case I do. I do believe that you think you heard your brother-in-law, but whether it actually was him is something else entirely. Personally I don’t know but the police think not. For my part I will do my best for you, that’s my job. I can have a few enquiries made if you want, to see if we can turn something up. I can ask a colleague to go over the bits we do know and then follow up whatever he can find. It will cost and I’m not promising. It’s your call.’

  ‘Do it. Joan’s lost her family over this whatever we do, so if you can prove who worked me over then you can take him to the cleaners with whatever you turn up. I don’t care anymore. But I’m not giving up. If you can’t do it I’ll personally kill the little shit.’

  ……….

  With rich rosewood tables and comfortable chairs complemented by just the right level of lighting for relaxed dining, the Lockside Dining Rooms were comfortable yet not overly ostentatious. Simon Charlton followed his guide outside to where more tables arranged for al fresco dining enjoyed a fine view over colourful canal boats moored in the marina.

  ‘This is the jewel in our crown. The Dining Rooms operate as a café through the day and as a restaurant with a gentle piano playing in the background on weekday evenings. At weekends we have live entertainment, and out here on the canal side you can have anything from a coffee to a roast dinner anytime you want.’

  ‘Very nice too’ replied Charlton,’ I like the feel of the whole place, but when will the plots be ready for caravans? And what made you think of a caravan park anyway, where’s the connection with boats.’

  ‘Boats need a water mooring and vans need a plot on which to park, but aside from that there’s not much between them. Actually, there’s quite a synergy. Most boat owners and caravaners enjoy the outdoors during the daytime then enjoy a good meal or some entertainment in the evening. We’ve plenty of land on the north side of the marina so all we had to do was extend the access road and put in some electric hookups. The ablutions block and other facilities already existed for the boat people. Actually, the first van is already on-site and three more will come on within the week.’

  ‘Sounds good to me. My van is a 32 footer but it is a couple of years old now, will that be a problem?’ asked Charlton, to which he was told that he could site it for eight years before renewal. Taking a brochure and application forms with him, he bade farewell.

  ……….

  ‘We’ve a nice relaxed atmosphere here Mr Charlton. It’s nice and friendly, the owners all get on well with each other. It’s more like a family home away from home really. Put your van on a plot here and you won’t be disappointed.’

  Hmm. Something didn’t gel. Green Fields Caravan Park was about as different as could be imagined to what he had seen at Lockside. Driving the three miles from the marina and turning into the Green Fields car parking area, Simon Charlton hadn’t been impressed. Its surface was rutted and uneven – probably a muddy quagmire in bad weather – and a feeling of desolation pervaded. The reception building he was now standing in had looked as though a new coat of paint and some maintenance due ten years ago still had not materialised and it was no better inside. No doubt the site had been different when it was first created, when the log cabin reception was new and the car park newly levelled, but the words springing to mind now were very tired.

  ‘So what facilities are there and what are your terms?’ Given the dilapidation, Charlton at least hoped for lower rates than at the marina.

  ‘You’ll find our charges are very competitive Mr Charlton. And we don’t make you buy a new caravan when it is ten years old either. As long as you keep it looking OK of course. We have a toilet block just next to this building and a self-serve launderette on the other side. You’ll like it here I am sure.’

  Well that was open to conjecture. On his quick sortie before entering the reception, Charlton had thought the adjacent toilet block to be in no better repair than the cabin, and half the machines in the launderette looked to be broken anyway.

  ‘So, is there a club on-site, a café or a restaurant?’

  ‘Not at present, but there soon will be.’

  Charlton couldn’t mask his amazement. The general run-down appearance of the whole site didn’t suggest the likelihood of any new facilities in the foreseeable future.

  I can see that you are surprised Mr Charlton, but we have a big development coming. We are adding thirty new caravan plots near the trees and the area between them and our existing plots will become a nice recreation area with an open-air swimming pool. We are also creating a top class restaurant in a lovely character stone building and all the existing facilities here, like the launderette and reception, are being completely overhauled.’

  ‘And when will all this happen?’ asked Charlton.

  ‘We are a little delayed at the moment because of a minor legal hitch, but we hope to have the restaurant up and running no later than six months from now. A couple of vans will be moving off next week so you could use one of their plots for now until the new plots are ready, then you can take your pick.’

  ‘That all sounds great as long as the timescale doesn’t drag on. I’ve been up to the marina site and they already have an excellent restaurant, but Green Fields is a bit more secluded and I like the idea of a pool. I wouldn’t want to bring my van and then find that the development didn’t go ahead though. I wouldn’t want to be stuck on a tired old site would I? I would rather take a plot at the marina than that.’

  ‘Don’t worry Mr Charlton. The delay is only temporary. The land is already in family ownership and the restaurant will be quick to convert. The hold up is with a legal issue impacting on funding but we’ve moved forward on that recently and it should all be done and dusted soon. Then it will be action stations.’

  The development sounded impressive. Perhaps 24 hours to compare the brochures and then make a decision. ‘Ah, well that’s a bit of a problem I am afraid. For legal reasons we cannot print a brochure or information sheets yet but in a couple of weeks they will be out. Why not come with me and I’ll walk you around the site and fill you in on what’s going where?’

  ……….

  Up in his first floor study room – once the spare bed
room – a Google Maps satellite image was displayed on a big plasma screen. ‘It all makes sense Dave,’ he said, pointing to what looked like little boxes arranged higgledy piggledy, some fields running alongside, then the roofs of a few buildings. ‘This is Green Fields caravan site. The only way I can see to expand it is by using the fields to the back. Those are the fields owned by the Johnson’s that are under dispute. Archer said it was in family ownership – which it is. On that basis Mike Johnson’s theory might not be as far fetched as you thought. Look at it this way, if the Johnson’s stump up half of Dad’s legacy then Peter Archer gets his funds to refurbish his site and put in his swimming pool. But without Johnson’s fields he’s not got the land for the expansion, and how could a lovely character stone built restaurant be created in six months?

  ‘It all sounds to me as though Johnson is right on the button,’ he continued. ‘I looked at the marina site and as things stand at the moment it knocks the socks off Green Fields. The vans due to be moved on to the Lockside plots at the marina could easily be the ones being removed from Green Fields. Peter Archer is already losing business and it is all set to go downhill if he doesn’t do something quickly. We are told that he doesn’t have any money to fund anything and the state of the place supports that, so perhaps he did work Mike Johnson over as a warning to make him do a deal.’

  ‘Don’t you think that that’s a little melodramatic?’ responded the solicitor. ‘I can see that if Archer had half of the land his sister is sitting on and a few quid thrown in for good measure, he could expand his site as well as refurbishing the buildings and facilities. But grabbing the whole lot so that he can turn their house into his new restaurant needs a bit more imagination.’