Free A Grave Inheritance by Anne Renshaw Page B

his precious newspaper away. Leonie edged towards the bookcase and began to examine his books. She picked up a copy of Sotheby’s Inside Story, but no interest registered on her face as she flicked through the pages. David had the surprised notion that his sister was nervous, but that wouldn’t be true to form.
    ‘Nathan Brock telephoned me last night,’ she said in a clipped voice. ‘There has been a girl in the Centurion office, poking her nose into our history, if you please. You realise what this means. Someone is looking to hang out our family’s dirty laundry.’
    ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ David replied. ‘The Lanceleys don’t have any dirty laundry, not that I’m aware of anyway.’
    ‘Not the Lanceleys, stupid, the Deverells. I for one don’t want all that business from the past raked up.’
    Ignoring the insult, David responded, ‘I think if you check your facts you will find it’s the Farrells they are interested in, not the Deverells.’
    ‘Well, that’s almost as bad. Wait a minute, how do you know that?’ Leonie slid the book she’d been thumbing back into its place and turned to face him.
    ‘You remember Lillian Farrell? She passed away a short while ago. Well, her great nieces, Amelia and Grace Farrell, have inherited her cottage.’
    ‘Lillian Farrell should never have owned it in the first place. The Farrells tricked our great uncle into signing it over. Primrose Cottage must be worth a small fortune now.’ David raised his eyebrows, noncommittal. He had heard this argument so many times before. ‘Anyway, I thought Lillian was the last of them,’ Leonie added.
    ‘Apparently not. It appears Lillian had a brother, Harry. Amelia and Grace are his grandchildren.’
    ‘Like I said before, how do you know all this?’ Leonie demanded.
    ‘Amelia and Grace visited me and introduced themselves. They wanted to know more about the cottage and who had previously lived in it. To be truthful, I’m a bit hesitant about telling them what I’ve found out.’
    ‘I bet you are,’ Leonie smirked. ‘They won’t like hearing their great grandfather was a murderer.’
    ‘There wasn’t a scrap of concrete evidence to connect John Farrell to Uncle Laurence’s murder, as well you know. Most of it was circumstantial, and it’s why the police let him go.’
    ‘I know what you’re saying and it’s precisely why we don’t want that particular can of worms opened up. The authorities could decide to use the new-fangled forensic science we hear so much about, DNA for instance. Who will they point a finger at then? No, we must stop this before it goes any further.’
    ‘You are worrying for nothing. I’ve already told you, they are not interested in the Deverells.’
    Ignoring him Leonie went on, ‘I’ll have to think about what to do. It’s good that you know these Farrells. You can keep an eye on them and report back to me. What are they like?’
    ‘I only met them briefly. They look like any other young women to me; jeans and tee shirts, that sort of thing.’
    ‘I don’t want to know what they were wearing, you idiot. What were they like? Inquisitive, rough, ladylike, poor – or did they look as though they had a bob or two?’
    David shook his head, wondering why it always came back to money with Leonie. ‘I don’t remember. But while we’re on the subject of having a bob or two, what’s going on with the investment you made, using my money?’
    Leonie looked confused. ‘Which one,’ she said.
    ‘Do you mean there was more than one?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ Leonie shrugged.
    ‘Are you telling me there was more than one investment, or more than one investor, i.e. like me?’ Leonie turned her back to him and began flicking through another book.
    ‘Both,’ Leonie said quietly.
    ‘What?’
    ‘I said both. I told you at the time; a property developer in Italy needed capital, hence more than one investor. You didn’t imagine he could do much with twenty-five