Page 19 of Snow Going Back

‘Well, I’m glad youwere,’ Kate replied, shooting one last look at the man now in the officer’s custody. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re more than welcome,’ Healy answered. ‘You mind yourself now. I can tell you’re no local, so enjoy your visit to ourlittle town. It’s a nice place for the most part. Just steer clear of trailer trash like Langston here, and you won’t go far wrong.’

Kate nodded. She wanted to ask Healy what he meant, exactly, byunsavoury fellow. Was he violent? Whatwouldhave happened if Healy had been around? But instead she just smiled. The man was in custody now. There was no need to know.

‘Noted.’ She walked back to her car. ‘Thanks again, Officer.’

‘Anytime,’ he called back.

Kate watched him drive away and then turned to continue her journey back to the house with a loud sigh. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her swollen red nose. It had certainly been an eventful day already, and it wasn’t even lunchtime! Shehadplanned to venture out to the main street later, but she wasn’t sure she could take anything else going wrong today.

No, she decided firmly, discarding the idea. She was going to wrap up warm and sit inside with a ridiculously over-mallowed hot chocolate, then make a start on everything she needed to do. She wasn’t venturing outside of the house again today.

Not foranything.

ELEVEN

Kate’s run of bad luck had unfortunately not quite been over. She hadn’t noticed the gentle slope of the road leading up to the house the day before, when the snow had still been settling, and on her way out she’d felt too fuzzy to give it much thought. But she’d realised the moment she’d seen it on her return that she wouldn’t get the car back up. She tried anyway, but no matter what she did, it just slipped casually from side to side as soon as it hit the slope. After fifteen minutes of attempts, Kate had given up and parked on the side of the road, then walked the rest of the way, regretting some of the heavier items in her shopping bags.

After a well-earned hot chocolate topped with a gravity-defying mountain of mini-marshmallows, Kate had succumbed to her cold-induced lethargy and simply curled up with a blanket in a cosy chair beside a window overlooking the garden. She’d watched the snow fall slowly to the ground, each flake carrying another whisper of that special magic that only snow can bring to the world. And in the peaceful silence Kate felt herself finally relax into an unfamiliar state of complete calm.

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, the snow had stopped and the sky had turned a deep inky blue, devoid of sun or snow cloud. Somehow, she’d slept awaythe entire afternoon, and although she knew she could easily continue through the whole night, too, she did feel considerably more energised than she had. There were several missed calls and messages from her mother, the messages filled with links to different wedding articles and services. Kate debated sending a quick reply to say she’d call tomorrow, but knowing Eleanor would ignore that and take the fact Kate was beside her phone as an invitation to call straight back, she decided against it.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of the bedroom, Kate laid out three sheets of paper in front of her. There wasn’t an awful lot of information to take in just yet, but they were a starting point. She picked up the first one and studied it thoughtfully. Erica had managed to pull a fair amount of information from Aubrey Rowlings’s social media profiles. Aubrey was thirty-two, a college dropout who’d gone through a string of jobs, never lasting more than a year, other than at Coreaux Roots. Aubrey had beentherefor just over three years.

Though the rest of Erica’s findings were of no use legally, they still gave Kate some insight into who she was dealing with. Aubrey’s online persona showed her living the sort of lifestyle Kate imagined might befit a mediocre motel heiress. Not quite the private jets and yacht summers the Hiltons could afford, but the champagne flowed freely and the Chanel was pointedly placed in every regally posed selfie.

It was clear though, when Kate read further, that this was all a facade. Aubrey rented a one-bedroom apartment in a very average part of town and earned only a modest wage. All in all, she appeared to be more interested in faking appearances than actually working for anything.

According to Aubrey, Cora had been grooming her to take over and become the sole leader of Coreaux Roots. But unless there was a lot she was missing from this picture, Kate couldn’tsee why Cora and William would want to hand their beloved company to Aubrey.

Placing the profile back down, Kate picked up the one beside it. Evelyn McEwan was Aubrey’s grandmother, Cora’s sister and a failed actress who had, when the sporadic small-time roles she occasionally won dwindled to nothing, written and self-published an equally unsuccessful book titledMe, Myself & the Flickering Spotlight of Hollywood.

Evelyn hadn’t properly worked a day in her life from what Kate could tell. But she’d still been busy. She’d had one daughter with her husband, Fred, who’d died ten years before. Since then, Cora had been paying Evelyn’s rent and living costs through a monthly stipend.

Evelyn claimed to have a letter from Cora expressing thatsheshould be given the house, along with a fifty per cent share of the company – but that she didn’t need to actuallyrunthe company. That she was to become a silent partner and live out the rest of her days in comfort from the income. This seemed as suspicious to Kate as Aubrey’s claims, from what she knew about William and Cora so far.

Moving on to the last of the three, Kate read the few sparse lines of information that had been available on Edward, William’s brother. There was no photo, as he had no online presence for Erica to search through. All they knew was that he was twelve years William’s junior and ran a small news press a few towns over. Public records showed that he had a son living in Australia, but that was it.

Edward had sent one short correspondence to the office, expressing that he wished to lay claim to the company and other assets in full. He claimed it was his duty to ensure Coreaux Roots survived, as the only blood relative who understood what it took to run a company and to protect it from those who would run it into the ground. That he owed this to his brother’s memory.

Kate let the paper drop to the floor. All three had requested a meeting with her, but she’d asked Erica to field them for now until she could get a better overview on things. Ideally, she wanted to figure out how close William and Cora had been to each of them first. And where better to do that than right here?

Photos, lovingly saved birthday cards, frequent plans in old diaries. Those would be pretty good indicators. She just had to figure out where to find them.

Kate twisted round and grabbed the second steaming cup of cocoa she’d made herself today, from the bedside table. She blew on it gently, breathing in the sweet, comforting smell as she looked around the room. This room wasn’t quite as modern as the other rooms in the house. The salmon-pink walls, frilly cream curtains and bedspread, and the lace doilies on the bedside tables all told tales of a very different time. But something about the room had drawn her in. Perhaps it was because it was the one room she could actually get a sense of Cora in. The desk in the corner had an old sewing machine out on top, the case open and a tub of cotton reels left beside it. The scissors were out, too, slightly open, as though Cora had been midway through using them and had meant to come back.

Kate had thought about tidying the desk to work at, but she couldn’t bring herself to move any of it. It seemed wrong somehow, like she’d be removing the last living traces of Cora. She stared at it now, imagining the old lady she’d seen in many photos around the house, sitting there, threading the needle.

Her phone rang, and the sudden interruption made her jump, hot cocoa splashing over the rim of her mug and down her front.

‘Ouch!Ugh, great…’ Kate stared down at the brown stain on the front of her green button-up pyjamas with a look of tired annoyance, before reaching for the phone. She closed her eyes and debated ignoring it again but then reluctantly answered,knowing she would only be delaying the inevitable. ‘Hi, Mum.’ She leaned back against the bed and pulled up her knees.

‘Finally!’ Eleanor exclaimed accusingly. ‘So your phoneisworking and youarealive then, Katherine?’

‘Yep,’ she replied. ‘It would seem so. How are you?’

‘Don’tyou how-are-youme, younglady!’ Eleanor replied indignantly. ‘I’ve been worriedsick!’

---