Shelter, page 26
The Verani was advancing on Richard when Laura fired. The Verani briefly howled as the first shot hit. The second shot killed it.
It was over.
Dunbar Court—Present Day
Siobhan kissed Laura on the cheek. “I hope you’ll both be very happy,” she said.
“Of course they’ll be happy,” Shaun said. He’d hoped to come to the wedding on foot rather than being pushed there in a wheelchair, but he had several months to go before his broken pelvis would knit together enough to stand his weight.
“Thank you both for coming,” Laura said. “I really appreciate it.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Shaun said. He was smiling, but there was still a hunted look in his eyes. On the death of the Verani the Devil’s Hair had dropped from his skin, leaving no trace it had ever been there. He still felt guilty. One day he would sit down with Siobhan and explain to her what had really happened to him that day; but not yet. It was still too soon. His body would mend in time, but the mental scars he’d carry for the rest of his life. Laura saw this in his eyes, and he saw similar emotions in the depth of hers.
It had been an exercise in damage limitation, she thought. No more, no less.
There was little left of Catherine, but what remains there were Richard buried in the grounds of the Court before any official investigation began. No one would ever find them, and that was as it should be.
The story was put out that Catherine had returned to her old ways and left the country, probably for Europe, but possibly South America. She disapproved of Richard’s relationship with Laura apparently, was one version, though another suggested it was the plans for the old Hooper place she disliked.
Richard’s status in the community meant there were few official inquiries of any consequence.
Marjorie McMillan found the body of her son when she brought Jamie home after a wonderful day spent at Monkey World. For weeks afterward a tearful Marjorie told anyone who’d listen that her son would be alive today if that bitch of a wife of his hadn’t left him. Fuel was added to her argument by reports from a local pub that Jenny McMillan had been seen drinking and sharing an intimate conversation with Brian Tanner, a local property developer, who, coincidently, had also disappeared.
Eventually the bodies of Jenny McMillan and Jim Raymond would be found at Tanner’s house, leading to a police investigation and a worldwide search for him involving Interpol and the FBI. But he would never be found, not unless the lake at Dunbar Court was ever drained, and that was unlikely, as Richard had begun to fill it in.
Tom Hooper’s house was to be demolished. Laura had lost heart with the renovation. Finishing it would stir too many memories—memories that were best left buried. There would be other houses to work on in the future if she had a mind to, but at the moment she was content in her role as wife to Richard and as the new mistress of Dunbar Court.
“So I suppose it’s Lady Laura now, is it?” Shaun said.
“Bit of a mouthful,” she said. “I think I’ll stick to plain Laura.” She looked across the room at Richard, who was deep in conversation with her parents. He felt her eyes upon him and looked back at her, smiling. She returned the smile, but was hesitant, uncertain. Actually until Catherine’s death could be officially recorded Richard could not inherit Dunbar Court, but as it was his home it was natural they would live there.
It was her decision to marry here at the Court, and they’d arranged the wedding quickly, inviting only their closest family and friends. Now halfway through the day she was feeling sad. She wondered what her relationship with Catherine would have been like. She suspected they would have become good friends.
“A penny for them,” Maggie said as she drifted by in search of another glass of champagne.
“Pardon?”
“You were miles away,” she said. “Mind you, if I’d just married Richard Charteris I daresay I would be lost in dreamland too.”
Laura squeezed Maggie’s hand affectionately. “One day you’ll meet him. I’m sure your Mr. Right is out here somewhere.”
“Yes, but he’s probably halfway up the Amazon, or climbing Everest. I suspect our paths will never cross.” She kissed Laura on the cheek. “Go on, circulate. It’s your day,” she said.
She found a waiter carrying a tray, plucked off a glass of Bollinger, and went to stand by the french doors, looking out over the garden.
The day had started with a shock for Maggie Kennedy. She cast her mind back to this morning, standing in the bathroom watching in panic as the indicator on the pregnancy testing kit turned blue. Positive.
It took her a while to face up to the fact that she was pregnant, that inside her, Brian Tanner’s baby was starting to grow. When the shock abated she gathered her thoughts.
At least she would never be alone again.
L. H. Maynard, Shelter
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It was over.
Dunbar Court—Present Day
Siobhan kissed Laura on the cheek. “I hope you’ll both be very happy,” she said.
“Of course they’ll be happy,” Shaun said. He’d hoped to come to the wedding on foot rather than being pushed there in a wheelchair, but he had several months to go before his broken pelvis would knit together enough to stand his weight.
“Thank you both for coming,” Laura said. “I really appreciate it.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Shaun said. He was smiling, but there was still a hunted look in his eyes. On the death of the Verani the Devil’s Hair had dropped from his skin, leaving no trace it had ever been there. He still felt guilty. One day he would sit down with Siobhan and explain to her what had really happened to him that day; but not yet. It was still too soon. His body would mend in time, but the mental scars he’d carry for the rest of his life. Laura saw this in his eyes, and he saw similar emotions in the depth of hers.
It had been an exercise in damage limitation, she thought. No more, no less.
There was little left of Catherine, but what remains there were Richard buried in the grounds of the Court before any official investigation began. No one would ever find them, and that was as it should be.
The story was put out that Catherine had returned to her old ways and left the country, probably for Europe, but possibly South America. She disapproved of Richard’s relationship with Laura apparently, was one version, though another suggested it was the plans for the old Hooper place she disliked.
Richard’s status in the community meant there were few official inquiries of any consequence.
Marjorie McMillan found the body of her son when she brought Jamie home after a wonderful day spent at Monkey World. For weeks afterward a tearful Marjorie told anyone who’d listen that her son would be alive today if that bitch of a wife of his hadn’t left him. Fuel was added to her argument by reports from a local pub that Jenny McMillan had been seen drinking and sharing an intimate conversation with Brian Tanner, a local property developer, who, coincidently, had also disappeared.
Eventually the bodies of Jenny McMillan and Jim Raymond would be found at Tanner’s house, leading to a police investigation and a worldwide search for him involving Interpol and the FBI. But he would never be found, not unless the lake at Dunbar Court was ever drained, and that was unlikely, as Richard had begun to fill it in.
Tom Hooper’s house was to be demolished. Laura had lost heart with the renovation. Finishing it would stir too many memories—memories that were best left buried. There would be other houses to work on in the future if she had a mind to, but at the moment she was content in her role as wife to Richard and as the new mistress of Dunbar Court.
“So I suppose it’s Lady Laura now, is it?” Shaun said.
“Bit of a mouthful,” she said. “I think I’ll stick to plain Laura.” She looked across the room at Richard, who was deep in conversation with her parents. He felt her eyes upon him and looked back at her, smiling. She returned the smile, but was hesitant, uncertain. Actually until Catherine’s death could be officially recorded Richard could not inherit Dunbar Court, but as it was his home it was natural they would live there.
It was her decision to marry here at the Court, and they’d arranged the wedding quickly, inviting only their closest family and friends. Now halfway through the day she was feeling sad. She wondered what her relationship with Catherine would have been like. She suspected they would have become good friends.
“A penny for them,” Maggie said as she drifted by in search of another glass of champagne.
“Pardon?”
“You were miles away,” she said. “Mind you, if I’d just married Richard Charteris I daresay I would be lost in dreamland too.”
Laura squeezed Maggie’s hand affectionately. “One day you’ll meet him. I’m sure your Mr. Right is out here somewhere.”
“Yes, but he’s probably halfway up the Amazon, or climbing Everest. I suspect our paths will never cross.” She kissed Laura on the cheek. “Go on, circulate. It’s your day,” she said.
She found a waiter carrying a tray, plucked off a glass of Bollinger, and went to stand by the french doors, looking out over the garden.
The day had started with a shock for Maggie Kennedy. She cast her mind back to this morning, standing in the bathroom watching in panic as the indicator on the pregnancy testing kit turned blue. Positive.
It took her a while to face up to the fact that she was pregnant, that inside her, Brian Tanner’s baby was starting to grow. When the shock abated she gathered her thoughts.
At least she would never be alone again.
L. H. Maynard, Shelter
