Chapter Fifteen
London
On his drive back to London on Sunday, Leonard mulled over the events of the night before. After a thorough sweep of the house—and finding nobody hiding, ready to pounce out on them—he and Adrian had locked and bolted the exterior doors, front and back. Nothing had been touched. The dresser, hidden beneath a dust sheet, had not been disturbed. All the intruder appeared to have done was to stroll as far as the French windows overlooking the back garden then retrace his or her steps out the front door. No footsteps had marked the stairs.
Adrian had been fearless, prepared for any confrontation, his fists clenched in readiness. Leonard had been impressed with his quiet but determined resolve, something that must have served him well on the streets. But the fading footprints had been enough to convince Leonard. Whoever had been in the place had long since departed.
“Should we call the police?”
“And tell them what?” Leonard had asked calmly. “There are no signs of a break-in. And most of the footprints have already dried up.”
“I took some pictures on my phone,” said Adrian. “And there might be fingerprints. By the size of the footprints, these are clearly men’s shoes, so thishasto be your cousin Matthew.”
If he was going to be honest, Leonard had thought the same thing initially. But he had read enough mystery books and seen enough television crime shows to know associating shoe size with gender would have even the most junior of police constables raising an eyebrow in disdain.
“We don’t know that, Ade. Yes, the person clearly has a set of keys to the house. But my aunt could have had more cut. Wouldn’t it make sense to give a set to someone locally in case of emergencies? This is my fault. I should have changed the locks the moment I got here. On any other job, I would have done. Let’s not push this. Nothing’s been touched or taken, and nobody’s been hurt. But if you could arrange for a local locksmith to come in during the week, that would put my mind at rest.”
“Bugger that,” said Adrian, still rattled. “I’ll do it myself. As soon as Toni gets here, I’ll find a local hardware store, buy the bloody locks and fit them myself.”
“Whatever you say. And once we’ve finished the renovations, I’m going to invest in a home security system. I have a close friend who will do me a good deal.”
In the bedroom that night, Leonard thought the intrusion might have dampened Adrian’s sexual ardour, but the opposite occurred. As soon as they stepped into the room Adrian grabbed hold of him, kissed and undressed him, and made love to him as though Lenny were a patient needing special care and attention.
One thing was for sure. Adrian had relaxed into their coupling, slowing down and allowing Leonard to take control sometimes, no longer fast and furious as though he was on the clock. But also, something inside Leonard had reawoken. The actual act of sleeping next to Adrian felt as intimate as their lovemaking, more so perhaps, something he realised he had missed in his life, missed with all his heart and soul.
Even with the cheerful thought of catching up with his team in London, leaving Sunday morning had been an emotional wrench, especially when Adrian had taken the lead to kiss and hug him goodbye at the front door.
* * * *
On Monday, after visiting his solicitor’s office for the official call with Dawson, Leonard arrived at his London office just before midday. After doing a round of greetings, he stayed at his desk, catching up on paperwork, signing letters and looking over contracts. Although tempted by the offer to go for lunch with his team, he chose to get the backlog of work out of the way. Other things could wait.
Helen Wallis’ advice had been pretty much as expected. Unlike Dawson, she did not maintain any of the old-world politeness and charm associated with her profession. Neither did she mince her words. In her early seventies, she had fought her way around a courtroom and bettered many of her male counterparts. These days she preferred loose-fitting, comfortable clothing she could wear just as easily in the garden, her hair tied up with a scarf—and wore the same attire to her office. The handful of clients she agreed to retain were long-standing and accepted her quirks along with her sharp legal mind.
“Short of proving you’re not Leonard Day, not actually Colin Day’s biological son, that is, or that your father was of unsound fucking mind when he signed the will—which according to Dawson, he wasn’t—then there is not a court in the land that would rule in favour of your dear Aunt Millicent. These carrot-crunching fuckwits at Hope and Masters know that, but they’ll still happily take the case and empty her bank account. From what you’ve told me, this woman is bordering certifiable, so I strongly suggest you find somebody she will listen to and get them to bitch slap some common sense into the old bag before she pours a fuck-ton of money down the drain.”
“That’s essentially what Dawson said. Without the expletives. If this were to go to court, how much are we talking? An estimate?”
“All depends on the angle they take and the complexity of the case. If they insist on DNA tests and getting medical professionals involved and goodness knows what the fuck else, then I’d say she should make sure she can put aside between a hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand. Hopeless Bastards will most likely ask for a retainer. How much is this property worth?”
“I’ve not had it valued yet. But at a guess, I’d say around three hundred thousand.”
“Seriously, Colin. Is there someone who can drum some fucking sense into this woman? Even if by some miracle she were to win, she’d only end up having to sell the property to pay off her legal fees.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know her that well. I might see if I can reach out to her daughter.”
“Can I suggest you do that sooner rather than later?”
On the drive back to the office, Leonard had wracked his brains to figure out how to contact his cousin Mary. First he’d reluctantly considered phoning his mother, until he remembered Pippa saying she exchanged Christmas cards with Mary. Perhaps Pippa might have an email or a home address.
Back at his desk, settling into his plush chair, he was about to compose a text message to Adrian, but then decided he needed to hear his voice. After only two rings, Adrian picked up.
“Hey, sexy. How’s your morning going?”
Leonard could not help the smile and warm feeling filling him at the endearment.
“Pretty good. Call between Helen and Dawson as predicted, and I’ve just arrived at the office. How are things going there?”
“Toni works like a demon. We’ve already got the equipment in place to take the wall down. And the Redfern outfit turned up first thing this morning. They’re already making quick work of the front garden. We’re stopping for a spot of lunch right now.”
