Weekend in Weighton Final Amazon version 12-12-12 (20 page)

‘Who are they, Helen?’ One more paddle and we’d be over the waterfall.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sunday – 13:20

Like Butch had railroaded Sundance into their famous leap, so I’d dragged a reluctant Helen Porson over the edge. We’d parted on the way down but reunited somewhere upstream. That’s how the final admission had broken its banks.

As to the bloodline of Robert Nkongo, who could have seen that coming? Elaine had a son, and he was in town. Along with his brother they’d become Weighton’s latest tourist trap. Helen’s “reveal” also meant I knew the identity of the bushwhackers at the flat. And the likelihood they were the same crew who’d knocked over Clegg wasn’t exactly by-the-by either.

Call me insensitive, but once Helen Porson regained her calm, I pushed on with my enquiries. I needed to know all about the new Weighton Massive. They’d turned up all over town, more or less inconveniently, and it didn’t make for a neat coincidence. I sensed that one of them was on a mission.

When I asked Helen about Robert Nkongo, she swore she knew nothing about Elaine’s illegitimate bush baby – at least not until he’d sent her a letter a few months before. And I believed her ... to a point.

As she told me of her dismay at receiving the letter, the bug-eyed shock replayed on her face. And it wasn’t only because Robert had revealed himself as Elaine’s son. To make matters worse, he’d signed off the letter declaring he was coming to Weighton, with Kip in tow. The sort of closing paragraph no unsuspecting aunty should have to read.

Assuming the letter existed, I was more than curious about what it contained. I also wanted to test her.

‘The letter from Robert?’

Her gaze was noncommittal, but her right eyebrow lifted. ‘What about it?’

‘Was it handwritten?’

‘Yes.’

‘Neat? English good?’

She shrugged slightly. ‘If you must know, his handwriting was a scrawl, but the English was acceptable.’

‘How did he start it?’

She glanced at me, clearly irritated. ‘Is this really necessary?’

‘Yes, it’s important. I need to know the details.’

After a brief pause and the tiniest of nods, she went on. ‘He introduced himself as Elaine’s son.’ Her fingers traced out the raised patterns on a pillow. ‘He apologised for having taken so long to make contact but he said he’d only found out after the death of his father. That’s when he learned his real mother was a teacher, an English lady who had come to the village many years before. The woman in question had gone back to England when Robert was eighteen months old and never returned. All he got was a faded photo of Elaine and a contact address. Mine.’

I took rapid mental notes, searching for gaps. ‘I take it he got all this from Kip’s mother?’

She shrugged. ‘I assume so.’

‘Did Robert say anything in the letter about Old Man Nkongo?’

‘Only what he’d been told: that after Elaine left, the father was too proud and stubborn to contact her. When it was obvious she wasn’t coming back, he declared her
persona non grata
, and that was that. She wasn’t spoken of again.’

Pins and needles were returning, poking insistently at my calves, so I stood up and stretched. Helen didn’t move.

‘Did you write back?’

‘Not at first. I was convinced it was a scam. I told Michael about the letter, and he thought the same thing.’

‘But the letter contradicted what you’d already told him.’

She looked up at me, a sarcastic smile twisting across her face. ‘I’m not stupid. I didn’t let him read the letter. I just told him I’d been contacted by a Nigerian man who claimed to be Elaine’s son.’

‘And what was his view?’

‘He told me to write back and say I wasn’t in good health, and not up to receiving visitors. To say that under no circumstances should he make the trip. He wouldn’t be welcome.’

‘A true politician, hey. And is that what you did?’

Her head bobbed to one side, then the other. ‘Not quite. Michael didn’t know the whole truth, so I had to go further and tell Robert that Elaine was dead. I told him there was no point coming.’

I was beginning to realise what a piece of work she was. Then again, hanging around Jimmy and Clegg long enough would corrupt a stone wall.

‘I take it young Robert wasn’t for turning?’

‘No. He wrote and said he’d already booked his flights. He said he’d be in contact when he got to Weighton.’

Her voice carried no emotion. I studied her face, looking for any signs that she was spinning, but her totem was perfectly still.

‘Did he turn up at the house?’

‘No, but I got another letter.’

‘Saying?’

She pushed her hands together. ‘He wanted to see me.’

‘Did you agree?’

‘I wrote back and said it would be best if he went home. But he sent more letters. Each more pleading than the last.’

‘Maybe he guessed Elaine was still alive?’

She gave a slight shake of her head. ‘He didn’t allude to that. But he was desperate to know anything about her.’ Her shoulders sagged with the memory. ‘The letters were pitiful. That’s what got to me.’

‘Enough to change your mind?’

She swallowed, then nodded. ‘I made an arrangement for him and Kip to come to the house.’

‘And they came?’

‘I don’t know for sure. They were meant to come that day. About the same time that Jimmy turned up. The day that …’ She shrank back in her chair.

Talk about bad timing: the Nkongos arriving in their Sunday best just as it all kicked off with Jimmy. Not the best way to get the party started. And what about the guest of honour? It finally dawned on me why Elaine had been at the house that day.

‘Helen, I’m probably slow on the uptake here, but your sister was meant to be at the house that day, wasn’t she?’

She nodded and wiped away another tear. ‘After I agreed to see Robert, the guilt became too much. It niggled away at me. All I did was agonise about what I’d tell him. And I was nervous he’d realise I was lying. Then I thought, why not let him know the truth. Why not let Robert meet his mother. I thought it would make everything right for everyone. It was meant to be a wonderful surprise.’

I sat back down on the hard plastic chair and patted her arm. ‘I understand.’

She looked at me and shrugged, like she’d passed on some of her burden. Her eyes were smudged with red but she’d run out of sobs.

It wasn’t the best time to leave, but I had to move fast and track down the Nkongo nephews. They were my ticket to a life without walls. And they might have an African sign over Jimmy.

‘I hate to ask, Helen, but do you know where Robert is staying?’

~

On the way back to the car I thought about the revelations and riddles I’d flushed out at the nursing home. Taken together, I couldn’t make up my mind if it was good news or bad news. On the bright side, Jimmy suddenly looked a shoe-in for murder one; I could picture him striding across the lounge in Colonel Mustard fashion, twisting a short length of rope, albeit with a change of victim. But the Nkongos impromptu appearance on the board was a complication I could do without. And even if I did have the where and the how on Jimmy, I was still confused about the why
?
Or at least about
why he’d done it himself? Curiouser and curiouser, some might say.

Helen’s invitation to Robert seemed akin to arranging dynamite on top of a powder keg. And whether borne from long-fermented guilt or not, her last minute impulse to involve Elaine provided the spark. So it came to pass that a surprise
grand reunion had been lined up. Helen’s way of pulling the family rabbit from a hat and bringing a curtain down on the whole miserable mystery play. Ain’t that the soapy truth.

But – surprise, surprise
–
as things worked out, it only amounted to a drum roll for the show-stopping finale. Enter Jimmy and some double-take jeopardy.

I’d come away with a rambling tale of unhappy families. I tried to take it all in, but I wasn’t sure what to believe or where it led.

When I’d finally told Helen about the incident at Clegg’s flat, she couldn’t accept it. All she’d done was shake her head and sob her poor heart out.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sunday – 14:10

By the time we passed the Trafford Centre I’d updated Kate on Helen Porson’s “Tales of the Unexpected
”
. Kate listened but didn’t say much. Her focus appeared to be on the traffic, but I knew she was storing. As the traffic eased and she got into her driving rhythm, the download began.

‘So she saved the best ‘til last?’

‘The son?’

Kate glanced and nodded. ‘If you hadn’t picked up on the connection she wouldn’t have said anything.’

I laughed, though not in a good way. ‘Yeah. It’s getting to be a family trait.’

‘Being evasive?’

‘Shifty, anyway.’

‘You don’t believe her?’

‘Mostly, I do. And you have to make allowances. A dead twin and a death wish from Jimmy C – bound to mess with anyone’s mind.’

‘Even so,’ said Kate, as she steered the car between lanes, ‘sounds flaky to me.’

She had a point. The same thing had been on my mind since leaving Flixton Grange. ‘Yes and no. I put her on the spot. She had to weigh up quickly what to tell me. Or more to the point, what
not
to tell me.’

‘So she conveniently left out any mention of Robert? Or that she’d arranged for Elaine to see him as a surprise?’

‘It makes sense in a demented kind of way. She gambled I didn’t know about the fabulous Nkongo boys. There’s no way she could have known I’d already been up close and personal with them. Or about the attack on Clegg. The cops haven’t gone public on it yet – Bob says they’re giving themselves until Monday. Whatever her reasons, she decided to leave the Nkongos out of her story. She probably assumed they’d left town.’

‘But she knew they were going to her house that day. It must have crossed her mind if they turned up?’

‘Afterwards, maybe. But having seen Jimmy C bolt from the house, then discovering a dead Elaine, I don’t think those two were the first thing on her mind.’

‘And later?’

‘She probably thought she’d missed them.’

Kate checked her mirrors while making a sound that suggested the contrary. ‘But wouldn’t she have been concerned about them coming back when she was contriving her great escape?’