Page 39 of When You're Forgotten

Finn pressed.“How do you mean, you knew it would end him?”

Edwin sighed, looking older and more weary.“He brought disrepute on the Penrose name— squandered fortunes, disrespected his obligations, and if he truly took up with… questionable company, that’d tarnish them further.The ‘curse’ or fate or what have you was going to claim him.Even Mrs Hughes thought so, though she’d never say it aloud.She’s a loyal soul.”

“Speaking of Mrs Hughes, I saw you at the walled garden…”

Edwin looked uncomfortable.“Some people have no manners, sneaking about.”

“I heard you mention a plan that you both had,” Finn pushed.

Wilkie let out a loud laugh, deadened by the cabin walls."It's nobody's business.But Mrs Hughes has a private pension that comes into effect in a few months.All she wants is that she get what's hers, and we leave here… Together…"

“I see,” Finn said, not sure whether to believe him.“Where will you go?”

“Somewhere green,” he smiled, as if basking in an imaginary sunset.“Away from all this.”

Finn felt a knot tighten in his stomach.“All right, thanks for telling me.Let’s keep this cordial, but I do want to confirm some of what you’re saying.And I’d like you to stay here until I’ve done that, to rule your involvement out.”

Edwin's eyes flashed.“I had no reason to kill Catherine.She was kind to me.And James… well, maybe I disliked him, but I’m not a killer.I told you— I think something else lurks around that place, older and more dangerous than me.”

A final wave of tension bristled.Finn believed Edwin’s sincerity for the most part— but the man’s convictions about curses and ghosts raised the possibility of psychosis or delusions.It was not improbable that Edwin might commit murder under that impetus.Still, no direct evidence pointed that way.

Finn stood, pushing the rickety chair back.“We’ll see.Either way, we might need you for further questioning.If you recall anything else about Wilkie or the Penrose history, let me know.And, uh, thanks for the drink.”

Edwin nodded, not quite smiling.“Sure.I don’t plan on running.These woods are home until Mrs Hughes comes with me.If the law wants me, they know where to find me now.”

Finn cast one more glance around the cramped cabin— the unmade bed, the homemade moonshine jug, the hunting paraphernalia—then turned to the door.Stepping out onto the porch, he was struck by how much gloomier the sky had become, clouds blotting out the sun.The forest crackled with a faint breeze, leaves shaking in rustling waves.

He descended the two steps, noticing the short barrel of Edwin’s shotgun leaning near the threshold.The older man stood behind him, arms folded, watching Finn’s every move.“Don’t get lost,” Edwin said softly.“These woods go deeper than you think.”

Finn gave a curt nod and strode off into the undergrowth, retracing his path.He had to keep a close watch on the subtle footprints he’d made earlier, ensuring he didn’t wander off track.The hush of the trees felt heavier now, as though the woodland was aware of his conversation.If any watchers lingered, he saw no sign.

His mind churned with new revelations.So Catherine had kept secret the presence of this old groundskeeper living out here, presumably because she sympathized with him.James had scorned him, associating him with Wilkie’s deadly terror.The curse story, the ghost rumors, the alleged prostitutes James hired— a tapestry of threads to pull at.If the soon-to-arrive financial records indeed revealed payments to escorts, that might add an entire new dimension to James’s downfall.

After about ten minutes of careful navigation, the forest thinned, letting in more light.He glimpsed a clearing ahead and recognized the path that led back toward Brynmor Hall’s rear grounds.Exiting the dense woods, he caught the scent of damp grass and saw the estate’s tall chimneys rising in the distance.The sky overhead churned with dark clouds, threatening rain.

He paused to gather his thoughts.The day had started with him rummaging through files with Amelia, then discovering Mrs Hughes’s secret meeting with Edwin Pierce.Now he had a partial story from the ex-groundskeeper, including revelations about James’s probable adultery.In any normal murder case, that alone might be motive enough for someone—Marianne?Catherine?Another family member?— to lash out.

He trudged across the lawn, keeping an eye on the walled garden to see if Mrs Hughes had returned there.No sign of her.Likely, she'd gone back inside.A pair of uniformed officers patrolled the estate perimeter, nodding in greeting to him from afar.He lifted a hand in acknowledgment, relieved they were still on alert, especially with Wendell's threats looming.

As he neared the manor’s back door, drizzle began to fall, pattering lightly on the stone walkway.He quickened his steps, slipping inside to the estate’s mudroom.The sudden warmth made him exhale in relief.Not that safety was guaranteed in these corridors, but at least the gloom of the forest was behind him for now.

Heading through a smaller passage, he made for the main hall.On the way, his mind kept turning over Edwin’s last remark: that James’s alleged misdeeds had guaranteed some cosmic or ghostly comeuppance.Even if it was all folklore nonsense, it might have shaped James’s decisions or mental state, and possibly given others the impetus to exploit his fear.

He sighed, wiping drizzle from his jacket sleeves.He’d update Amelia about Edwin’s claims.She’d want to keep an eye out for references to escort payments or hush money in James’s financials.That sort of revelation might spark deep resentments or be fodder for blackmail.Another thread in the labyrinth.

Rounding a corner, he spotted a dim corridor leading to the sitting room.Flickers of lamplight spilled out, indicating Amelia might already be inside.The overhead lights flickered from an electrical quirk.His footfalls echoed on the polished floor.Even though it was midday, the gloom thickened around Brynmor Hall as if dusk approached early, a harbinger of something unseen.

Before stepping into the sitting room, he paused, scanning the corridor behind him, half expecting the masked figure or Mrs Hughes to appear.Nothing.He inhaled, steadying himself.

He pushed open the door, crossing into the light, eager to share his discoveries with Amelia.He only hoped they had enough time to put it all together before the darkness— or the murderer—claimed another life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A subdued hush fell over Brynmor Hall as night settled in, lending the corridors a hushed, almost reverent air.Finn ambled alongside Amelia, traversing a long gallery on the second floor, dim lighting flitting over oil paintings and centuries-old tapestries.The household had gone quiet after dinner—what little dinner there was, given the tension of Catherine’s death and the swirl of investigations—yet the two of them couldn’t rest just yet, they felt a walk around the house to make sure all was well was the right thing to do.

Amelia paused before a particularly grand tapestry depicting a knight in battle against a mythical beast.She brushed her hand near the embroidered edges, not quite touching it.“This Edwin Pierce you mentioned, I still think it’s strange that the ex-groundskeeper is living out in the woods,” she said, her voice soft enough to not echo too far.“I wonder if his story about James using escorts is true.”

Finn nodded, turning to the tapestry before them.Its colors looked muted, possibly from decades of dust and time.“Yes, we can’t take anything at face value.Still...Edwin said James wasn’t exactly… faithful to Marianne.Called them ‘escorts.’How high class, I don’t know.He claims James spent a fortune on them, which might tie into the family’s finances, if he was secretly living a life of excess.”

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