Third to Die (2 page)

In his desire to protect his son’s name, Clyde had even made ominous threats to Isla and Meegan. Aiden detested the man and he felt his blood begin to boil just upon hearing his name.

“I’ll reschedule,” Betty decided nervously as she saw the curtain of resentment sweep across Aiden’s handsome face.

“No, no,” Aiden reached out a hand to gesture for her to stop. “I’ll go. It will be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Betty peered at Aiden from behind her glasses. “I mean, you and Clyde White have never been on good terms. And I imagine the whole reason he’s amending his will is because of Brandon’s passing. I’d hate him to be cruel to you.”

“It’s all water under the bridge,” Aiden reassured the old woman that he himself had reservations about how Clyde White would receive him. As Betty had so astutely pointed out, they’d never been on good terms.

“If you’re sure,” Betty nodded. “The appointment is at three out at his lumber yard. Do you need directions?”

“No,” Aiden shook his head slowly. “I remember the way.”

“I sure hope he doesn’t give you too hard a time,” Betty fretted. “Because the problem with Avalon is, there aren’t any bridges for the water to go under.”

Aiden nodded with understanding. Avalon was certainly the sort of place where ghosts of the past refused to reside quietly in the background.

“Three o’ clock,” Aiden made a scribbled note of the appointment. “Not a problem.”

“You always were so brave,” Betty smiled, blushing slightly. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Sure,” Aiden smiled and glanced at the clock. It was even half past nine. With an appointment with Clyde White looming, he knew he was going to be in for a long, hot day.

*

It had been a long time since Aiden had last drove out to Avalon Pine, the timber company owned by Clyde White, but the route was still reassuringly familiar to him. The day had grown sticky and hot, making Aiden’s shirt cling to him despite the air-conditioned air roaring out of the vents in his car.

After parking his car in the customer lot, Aiden took a moment to brace himself for what would inevitably be a difficult reunion. The last time he’d seen Clyde White, he’d been representing Brandy and trying to uncover the truth around Brandon’s death. Clyde had been a doting father, guarding his son’s secrets with dogged determination even in the wake of his demise.

The heat hit Aiden as soon as he emerged from the confines of his car, as did the wall of sound which accompanied a busy lumber yard. All around him there was a cacophony of sound as workers sawed, drilled and hauled timber around the Avalon Pine site.

Little had changed since Aiden had last been there. There was the same long log cabin boasting the company logo within which Clyde White, Site Manager, resided. Aiden squinted in the sunlight as he looked over at the building and, for a moment, he hesitated. He didn’t relish the situation he was about to walk into.

“Damn it, Edmond,” he grumbled to himself as he finally started walking across the lot, briefcase in hand, towards the cabin.

*

Thankfully, once Aiden entered the log cabin he was delivered from the heat outside and bathed in refreshing, cool air. He felt almost euphoric to be able to abandon the oppressive heat of the day.

A young blonde glanced up expectantly from behind a large desk. She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and let her hand hover over the telephone to her left.

“I’m from Copes and May,” Aiden explained to her, his tone friendly. “I’ve got an appointment with Clyde White at three.”

The young woman held him in her gaze for a second too long and then placed both hands on her computer’s keyboard and began furiously typing. Her long nails, painted a shade of blue more brilliant than the clearest sky, struggled to navigate between the plastic keys. She pursed her ruby-red lips in frustration.

“He’s expecting me,” Aiden added helpfully. “Well, not me personally, but someone from Copes and May.”

The woman ceased typing and smiled falsely.

“I’ve found the appointment,” she reported in her thick Southern accent. “I’ll just let Mr. White know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Aiden nodded at her and moved to sit down on a nearby sofa. He watched as the blonde picked up the telephone and swiftly dialled a succession of numbers into the keypad.

“Your three o clock is here,” she said abruptly after a brief pause. Then she placed the phone down and looked across at Aiden.

“You can go on in.”

“Thank you.”

*

Aiden pushed open the door to Clyde White’s office and was met by a flourish of crisp air. In the modestly sized room there was the same grand desk, opposite which were placed two leather chairs. On the wall behind the desk remained the same collection of framed photographs and newspaper clippings about Brandon. Clearly the scandal of the murder trial had done nothing to quash Clyde’s devotion to his late son.

Clyde White was sat behind his desk, the pictures of Brandon providing a morbid backdrop to his work day. He was dressed in a cream short-sleeved shirt and his hair boasted a greater ratio of grey to black than it had done when Aiden had last seen him. He smiled courteously as Aiden walked in and gestured to the leather chairs.

“Afternoon, Mr. White,” Aiden reached over to shake the man’s hand before sitting down. Clyde White gripped it firmly as they shook. He was the sort of man who judged someone by the calibre of their handshake.

Aiden popped open his briefcase and retrieved some documents which Clyde would need to fill in.

“I know you were expecting Edmond,” Aiden began, “but sadly he’s not in today so you’ve got me instead.”

“Well aren’t I the lucky one?” Clyde noted flatly.

“You’re looking to amend your present will?” Aiden passed some paperwork across to Clyde.

Opening a drawer in his desk, Clyde pulled out some fashionable reading glasses. Aiden didn’t remember him needing them before. He watched the older man as he scrutinized the paperwork.

“You just need to highlight what needs amending,” Aiden prompted him. “Or I can help you with it, if you like?”

Clyde sighed and placed the paper he was holding flat on his desk and looked squarely at Aiden.

“Says here I’m leaving everything to Brandon. Guess that needs to change.”

Aiden coughed awkwardly.

“I’ve been meaning to update this for ages,” Clyde continued. “Kept putting it off. Felt too painful, too final.”

The pain Aiden had originally seen in Clyde White over his son’s death still existed behind his eyes, infecting his whole demeanour so that he physically wilted when he spoke about his son.

“I’m sorry this is difficult for you,” Aiden offered kindly.

“No, you’re not,” Clyde replied bluntly. “You thought my son was a monster. You did everything you could to destroy the legacy he had here in this town.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Aiden quickly corrected him. “I was just searching for the truth.”

“And now a man of God sits rotting in prison,” Clyde sighed, referring to the real killer of his son, Father West, the man who had almost let Brandy take the fall for a crime she didn’t commit, had Aiden not intervened.

“No jury in the land is ever going to convict him.”

Aiden was silent. He knew better than to overly engage with Clyde regarding what happened with Brandy’s murder trial.

“I suppose you think I should leave everything to her,” Clyde asked heatedly. “She is, after all, my son’s widow.”

“Whoever you state as your benefactor is completely up to you.”

“She doesn’t deserve a dime,” Clyde seethed as his eyes misted behind the lenses of his glasses.

“Perhaps you want some time to think it over,” Aiden suggested helpfully. “I could leave these here and collect them at a later date.”

“No need,” Clyde raised his palm to Aiden and with his other hand picked up a pen and swiftly began amending the document before him.

“I know who I need to make my will out to,” he explained.

“Oh,” Aiden tried to not sound surprised. “Good.”

Once Clyde was done writing, he slid the piece of paper back to Aiden.

“Everything in order?” Clyde asked.

Aiden glanced over the paperwork and felt his body stiffen in shock when he saw that Clyde was now leaving his entire estate to Edmond Copes’ next of kin.

“You look surprised,” Clyde smirked slightly as he spoke.

“I didn’t realize you and Edmond were so close,” Aiden admitted.

“Edmond Copes is a good man,” Clyde declared sincerely. “Terrible thing what’s happening to him. I’ve no family left of my own to have to support so the least I can do for him is to help his loved ones after we’re both gone.”

“What terrible thing?” Aiden asked, leaning forward.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” Clyde looked delighted by Aiden’s obliviousness.

“Know what?”

“Edmond hasn’t been in work for several weeks now, correct?”

“That’s right, he’s off sick.”

Clyde shook his head slowly, a forlorn expression casting a shadow across his chiselled features. The line around his eyes seem to deepen as he looked across at Aiden.

“He’s not sick, Mr. Connelly. He’s dying.”

“What?” Aiden gripped the arms of the leather chair for support.

“Cancer. He was diagnosed at the start of the month but they caught it too late,” Clyde explained, his voice becoming brittle.

“Not many people know. He started chemotherapy last week and, well, it’s taken it out of him. The doctors aren’t hopeful for his prognosis.”

Aiden was speechless. Clyde White had to be wrong. There was no way that Edmond Copes was dying. When Aiden had last seen the old man a few weeks ago, he’d been his usual, jovial self, there was no indication at all that anything was wrong.

“You’re messing with me,” Aiden said tersely as he felt his hands start to shake. “Edmond is just sick, he’ll be fine. You’re just trying to get to me as you’re still bitter about everything that went down with Brandy.”

“Oh, I’m bitter,” Clyde confirmed. “I’ll never forgive you for trying to tarnish Brandon’s good name. But I can assure you that I’m not lying about Edmond and I’m affronted that you’d think I’d stoop so low as to make something like this up.”

Aiden used his shaking hand to wipe at his eyes.

“If Edmond was gravely ill he’d have told me,” he said with certainty.

“Would he?” Clyde countered, removing his glasses. “You’re Edmond’s beloved prodigy. I imagine he wanted to protect you from the ugliness of it all.”

Aiden stood up and put a hand to his temple. His head suddenly felt immensely heavy from all the questions it now contained.

“You’re wrong.” Aiden tried to remain composed as he picked up his briefcase and prepared to leave.

“I wish I was,” Clyde moved around from his desk to get the door. “Edmond is a good man, one of the best.”

“He’s not dying,” Aiden insisted.

“Make sure you get that processed,” Clyde said, referring to his amended will. “I told Edmond I’d get it done as soon as I could.”

“So you knew you’d be seeing me today?”

“Of course.”

Aiden sighed in frustration.

“If you’re lying about Edmond—”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t.”

“Do you think telling me this makes us even?”

Clyde chuckled slightly to himself.

“Of course not,” he clapped Aiden on the back as he pulled open the office door. “We’ll never be even.”

*

Aiden sat in his car holding Clyde’s amended will. He kept re-reading the new benefactor. Clyde was leaving everything to Edmond’s family. Surely that meant it was true, that Edmond was actually dying?

Punching the steering wheel Aiden tried to release his anguish. He wanted to scream, to cry, to run until his legs gave way beneath him, but instead he turned on the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. He knew he was due back at the office but that wasn’t where he was headed. He was going to see Edmond.

*

“Has anyone called for me?” Brandy enquired hopefully as she came down the central staircase of Chez Vous.

“No, honey,” her Aunt Carol shook her head and raised a perfectly styled eyebrow at her niece.

“You need to stop waiting on his call.”

“I’m not waiting on anyone’s call!” Brandy insisted, forcing herself to smile brightly and sound flippant.

“Uh-huh,” Carol rolled her eyes and pursed her lips knowingly.

“We’ve all been there,” Rhonda, a senior stylist, retorted from where she was standing nearby, styling a middle-aged woman’s hair.

“You need to stop waiting on him and move on!” As Rhonda spoke, she pointed her scissors at Brandy.

Brandy liked Rhonda. Like all the other women who worked at Chez Vous, she was stylish and oozed confidence. Brandy had never known women like them before. They were assertive and knew their own minds and didn’t let the men in their life own them. It was a far cry from the life she’d known growing up, where Brandy’s own mother favoured her current man over her own daughter.

“Chin up,” Carol placed her hand beneath Brandy’s dainty chin and physically pushed it upwards.

Brandy tucked a loose strand of long blonde hair behind her ear and turned to head back up to her next client. She paused briefly, a hand on the rail and looked back at her aunt, her deep-brown eyes wide with irrepressible hope.

“If someone does call, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Child, you’re a lost cause!” Rhonda cried heatedly, pointing her scissors back at Brandy.

“Beautiful Southern belle like yourself could have any man in this city eating out of the palm of your hand!”

“Thanks,” Brandy whispered politely, not wanting to point out that the problem was that the man she wanted wasn’t even in Chicago.

*

The only place Brandy was able to find solace was sat at the white piano in the worn-down hotel a few blocks from her apartment. She’d sit at the stool and let her fingers glide effortlessly over the keys and she’d lose herself to whichever melody she decided to play. Lately, the songs she played were sombre and slow, reflecting her mood.

He’d told her he was going to call. He’d told her that he was going to leave his wife and come back to Chicago for her and they were going to be together, truly together. That was two weeks ago. Since then there had been only silence from Aiden Connelly. As Brandy pressed down firmly on a deep chord she tried to push out all her pain, all her hurt and anguish. With each day that passed she came closer to the heart breaking realisation that Aiden was never going to call.