Free Cherringham--The Curse of Mabb's Farm by Matthew Costello Page A

place to detect that.
    But basic, raw information about accounts?
    That was a different matter entirely. She could see what any clerk could access after just being hired and a week’s training.
    She entered ‘Ray Fox’ into the search bar.
    Two accounts popped up, one savings, the other current. Both open to view.
    She picked the current account and saw that it had been inactive for the last eighteen months.
    Substantial funds in there, which would seem to argue that he eventually planned to come back. And no one — like his brother for example — seemed to be trying to claim those funds.
    So far, nothing suspicious. Or useful.
    She thought of the Murder Mystery Weekend that Grace had mentioned. Might be fun, once the leaves had begun to fall. See how the pros really solve crime!
    Then she thought she’d check the last transactions before Ray departed. A few bank card purchases. Bills paid. A routine transfer from savings to current account and—
    Then — just three weeks before all activity ceased — a big transfer.
    Three thousand pounds to Cauldwell & Co, the local estate agents.
    She was tempted to share the discovery with Grace, but since this was all illegal, best she give her PA as much ‘plausible deniability’ as possible.
    She looked up.
    “Grace — I’m meeting Jack in an hour, but I’ve got to dash somewhere beforehand. Back by lunch, swear to God, to dig in with you.”
    “No worries. Carry on with your sleuthing, boss.”
    Another smile.
    Worth her weight in gold. Discreet and smart.
    “Thanks.” She headed to the door scooping up a yellow pad.
    Could be time to start taking some notes.
    Cecil Cauldwell sat manning the front desk himself. End of the summer was probably a quiet time for sales and rentals. He looked overdressed for the part, a cream-coloured suit, perfect during midsummer but less so now, with a pale purple tie and matching handkerchief.
    The bell over the agency door rang as Sarah breezed in, pad in hand.
    “Sarah? Um, how are you?”
    Like most of Cherringham, Cecil knew that a visit from Sarah or her American friend these days could mean any number of things.
    As Cecil had found out when Mogdon Manor burned down.
    “Cecil, phew! Glad you’re here. Just took a shot—”
    She imagined that if she had called ahead he might have invented some showing he had to do that would — unfortunately, he’d say — have him out of the office.
    Surprise can be useful.
    He did not, however, offer her a seat.
    She had the thought that estate agents are like doctors and undertakers. They know things about people, their families, their money, their lives; things that no one else would know.
    “Cecil, I’ve been helping that young couple out on Mabb’s Farm,”
    “They came to you for help?”
    “Not exactly. But other people have, concerned people. And I was just wondering about something …”
    Her time with Jack should pay off now. Asking a question when you know the answer. The ‘upperhand’, as Jack would call it.
    “Ray Fox and his sudden departure. Did he ever talk to you at all, perhaps about selling the farm, or—”
    “I’m afraid that is client privilege, Sarah. I’m sure you understand.”
    “Certainly.”
    Still no offer of a chair was forthcoming.
    Cecil was definitely hoping that Sarah would breeze out as quickly as she had breezed in.
    “It’s just that, well, it appears that Ray had contacted you. With him gone and all, I was wondering if you might know something?”
    “I don’t see what this might have to do with that … couple on the farm. I had nothing to do with that arrangement, I can tell you.”
    Aha…
    “But other arrangements you did?”
    Cecil shifted in his seat. Now Sarah was glad she was standing. Another little bit of edge.
    “Look, it’s probably no secret that Ray Fox came to see me,”
    “And hired you? In some fashion.”
    Cecil hesitated. And then: “Er, in a way.”
    “I thought representing a property was free, until the sale