Page 29 of Stripped

Chapter 16

The clock on her grandfather's wall struck two, and a soft bell chimed twice, counting the hours, loyal and steady like an old friend. Pim used to love the sound as a girl when she spent her holidays here. It reminded her she actually had a home and offered a sense of security after boarding away and being on her own. Now, she sat on the couch in Angus' office awaiting the reading of his will, though there was no refuge the swing of the pendulum could offer this time. Its ring foreshadowed only perfidious last wishes. It was all pomp and circumstance anyway, anyone who was named a beneficiary in his trust had already received a copy of it. Hers had been delivered yesterday. It sat, unopened, on the counter in her flat.

She looked around at the small group gathered, recognizing a few of his business associates. Graham had set up extra chairs, allowing everyone a seat. Peter entered, along with a board member of SNB. He gave her a nod and smile before sitting down. Wraith put his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder as he whispered in her ear, "Why's he here?"

She didn't have time to answer. Graham stood up from behind the desk. "As most of you know by now, Angus named me as executor-dative of his will. I have sworn an oath before a solicitor, Douglas Morris," he pointed to a slender, middle-aged man in a tweed suit, "of the true valuation of the estate and that the estate will be distributed in accordance with the law and the terms of the will. If anyone would like to see the affidavit, I have it here." He held up a piece of paper. "The total valuation of the estate, including assets, comes to five hundred and thirty-six million pounds after the inheritance tax is paid."

There were a few gasps and Pim felt a headache coming on. It was an obscene amount of money. Her toe throbbed in the black riding boots she wore. "Angus was a great man. He considered himself a philanthropist," Graham continued. "The following organizations will each be receiving a sum of one million pounds: Community of Helping Hands, Glasgow Foodbank, Feed the Children, Riverside Museum, Scottish National Ballet, Scottish Opera, and Òran Mór."

Pim glanced over at the manager of Òran Mór and smiled. Peter, who was sitting in front of the young man, blew her a kiss, thinking she was looking at him.

"Angus has asked that I continue to oversee the running of his businesses. The rest of the estate has been bequeathed to the pride and joy of his life, his granddaughter, Primrose McNeil."

Someone cleared her throat in the back of the room. Everyone turned to look. A young girl stood there with a little boy.

"Dear God, what are you doing here?" Graham said, going over to the girl. "This is a private family gathering."

"I am family," she said in a Russian accent. "He is family." She pushed the boy in front of her, holding him by the shoulders.

Pim stood up. "What are you talking about? Who are you?"

"I am Angus' wife. This is his son."

Graham motioned with his head to a man standing in the back. He blocked the path of the girl, preventing her from coming in any farther and grabbed her arm, escorting her out as she continued to shout, "He has a right to something. He is his son."

Rankin shut the door. He looked over at Pim, his face, having lost its color, now appeared a dull gray. Wraith took her hand and had her sit. "I apologize for the interruption," Graham said. "The estate will be in confirmation for the next six months, and after that, I will make the distribution…" His voice trailed off. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid that's everything. I'll contact you all with any other information. You're free to leave."

Pim sat, numb, unable to process the girl's words. Wife and son. The small crowd began to disperse, talking in awkward, hushed whispers. Peter came up to her. "Call me if you need anything, darling," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "You danced well today, my little Étoile."

Wraith stood up, every muscle in his body contracting. He looked like he was going to hit the man. Pim touched the sleeve of his suit jacket. He cleared his throat and went to stand by the door. When everyone had left, he returned and sat beside her. Graham shut the door.

"Who was that girl?" she asked.

"She's no one. Just a girl looking for money." Graham had regained his composure.

"Don't lie to me. She said she was his wife. She said the boy was his son."

"Pim, I'm not lying to you." Graham sat down on the edge of the table, so he faced her, and took her hand. "Some women look for rich men as an easy way to make money. That's all she was doing."

She pulled her hand back. "I need to get out of here." She stood up, grabbing her purse, and headed for the door. "In six-months, all of this will be mine. I'll be in charge of it," she said without turning around. "I'm going to ask you one more time, who is the girl?"

Graham sighed. "A lot of women threw themselves at your grandfather. It was a brief fling. She's desperate."

She kept her back to him. "How old is she?"

"She's your age."

Pim opened the door, slamming it behind her.

* * *

Wraith caught up to her in the street. "Get in the car," he said, rolling down his window.

"Leave me alone." She continued to walk, picking up her pace.

"You can't walk home with your toe."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do." She stopped short, turning to face him. "In fact, our deal is over. I gave you a way in. You had your chance to meet his business partners and figure out whatever it was you needed to figure out. My grandfather's dead. Finding out if he was murdered, isn't going to change the fact."

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