Cherringham--The Secret of Combe Castle Read Online Free PDF

bring in much then?”
    “Oh — next to nothing. Some days nobody comes at all.”
    “To be honest, I thought you’d closed down years ago.”
    “God. Be better off if we had,” said Edwina. “We can’t afford to advertise as it is.”
    “You could have a website.”
    “Oswald doesn’t believe in the internet.”
    “Ah,” said Sarah.
    “He thinks it’s just a fad.”
    Sarah kept a straight face and made a note in her notepad.
    “What about the village? Anyone there who might be a suspect?”
    Another head shake. “We owe money to half the tradesmen in Cherringham.”
    “Could it be one of them?”
    “I don’t see the manager of Costco’s starting a vendetta — do you?”
    “What about visitors — anyone unusual?”
    “Apart from the people who pay to go round Oswald’s Odditorium you mean?”
    Sarah smiled.
    “There was that awful woman from the estate agents …”
    “Oh? You mean Cauldwells?”
    “That’s it. Some young girl with one of those silly made-up names.”
    “I didn’t know there was a woman working there—”
    “Anjii, that’s it. One ‘j’, two ‘i’s. Turned up a couple of weeks ago. Prowled around the house like a predator. Oswald loped after her giggling like a child, with his tongue hanging out.”
    “Why was she here?”
    “Said she had a buyer — wanted to do a ‘valuation.’”
    “Did she?”
    “If she did, she didn’t tell me. Anyway, Oswald will never sell. ‘The royal blood of England flows through this house.’ Blah blah blah …”
    Sarah picked up the letters again and slid them across the table to Edwina.
    “What about the writing — do you recognise it?”
    “No,” said Edwina.
    “The whole tone of the letters seems political. Are either of you involved in politics, or have some connection to any big business?”
    “Ha! I wish.”
    “Shares maybe?”
    “Sold long ago.”
    “No plans for fracking for oil? GM crops?”
    Sarah watched Edwina shake her head: “As if! Where do I sign?”
    “And neither of you has been in the press lately? No reason for you to be a focus for some kind of local problem, maybe class resentment?”
    “We live an extremely quiet life here, Sarah.”
    Sarah made some notes in her notepad, then changed tack.
    “What about Rufus?” she said. “When we saw him this morning he looked pretty angry.”
    “Rufus is always angry.”
    “Could he have written the letters?”
    “Doesn’t look to be in his hand.”
    “He could have got someone else to do it. Why was he angry?”
    Sarah saw that Edwina was choosing her words carefully.
    Now we’re getting somewhere , she thought.
    “Okay. What I tell you now must remain in the strictest confidence,” said Edwina.
    “Of course.”
    “Oswald invited Rufus over and asked him for a loan.”
    “Let me guess,” said Sarah. “Rufus said no?”
    “Hit the roof. Went ballistic. Ranted, raved, called Oswald every name under the sun.”
    “He certainly looked agitated when we met him,” said Sarah. “Do you mind telling me how much Oswald asked for?”
    “Hundred thousand.”
    Some loan, thought Sarah.
    “Does Rufus have that kind of money?”
    “Oh yes.”
    “I thought he didn’t inherit?”
    “Picked up some loose change from Oswald’s uncle when the old chap popped his clogs,” said Edwina. “Felt sorry he had been shut out of this mess! And then did rather well in the city with it.”
    “But why ask him? Can’t you go to the bank for a loan?”
    “Really? You show me a bank we don’t owe money to,” said Edwina.
    “Ah …”
    “And one of those banks currently wants its money back. It’s so very tedious. In fact if we don’t pay them by the end of the month I do believe we lose the lot.”
    “You mean the house …?”
    “Land too.”
    Sarah stared at Edwina FitzHenry.
    She shrugged: “Anyway, Rufus was our last hope. If we don’t find cash, and a lot of it, in the next two weeks it’s goodbye Combe Castle.”
    “I see,” said Sarah,