The Lying Game by Maxine Barry

Author:Maxine Barry [Barry, Maxine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, murder mystery, Thriller, Romance, romance thriller, Romantic Suspense, romance action and adventure, Suspense
Publisher: Corazon Books
Published: 2018-02-18T06:00:00+00:00

Eight

Lowell parked outside the small, detached house just off Headington Hill and turned off the ignition. He sat and gazed at the house for a few moments, a puzzled frown on his brooding face. Then he checked the slip of paper on the passenger seat opposite him once more.

It was the right address all right.

Lowell had used up quite a few hours and plenty of favours that morning, and then had spent even more time chasing paper trails, but he’d eventually tracked down the offices of OxonCountryProp. But the house was an obvious residence, so presumably Marcus Royle was a one-man outfit who worked from home. Odd, surely, for a company which could afford to buy the Manor outright, and pay for conversion costs and a private interior designer?

It didn’t add up.

He got out of the car and walked to the door, glancing around the deserted streets. Suburbia at its most inoffensive. Even the big tabby cat which sat on the wall opposite watched him from a polite distance.

The door opened a bare few seconds after his initial knock, and Lowell found himself facing a middle-aged man, with neatly cut greying hair and wide horn-rimmed glasses. He looked like a typical accountant. Hardly the go-getting head of a major real-estate company.

‘Hello, Mr Royle?’

The eyes smiled, crinkling attractively into crows’ feet at the corners. ‘Yes?’

‘Of OxonCountryProp Developments?’

The smile vanished at once, to be replaced by a nervous blink. ‘Er … sorry?’

‘You are Mr Royle? You do own OxonCountryProp Developments?’ Lowell persisted.

Marcus Royle looked more nervous than ever. ‘I’m not sure …’ he began, rather helplessly, and Lowell moved a step forward, forcing him back.

‘My name’s Lowell Seton,’ he said briskly. ‘My family used to own the Manor at Nether Dene. I’ve come to make you an offer for it,’ he carried on firmly, all but shouldering his way into the small hall.

He already knew that Marcus Royle was going to present him with no serious problem. In his life, Lowell had dealt with fearsome bank managers, irate American multi-millionaires with complaints about the Dower House Hotel, not to mention reporters with all the charm and panache of Rotweillers on steroids. All of them had come off worst, quickly learning that behind the classically handsome face and polite English country gentleman persona, lurked a man of utter steel. The likes of poor Marcus Royle were no challenge at all.

Less than a quarter of an hour later, Lowell left, grim-faced and bemused, but much, much the wiser.

As he got in the car and drove home, his mind was spinning. Oriana was the true owner of the Manor? But how could that be? Not that he doubted Marcus Royle’s story for one moment. It was too fantastic to be a lie. And, in some sort of way, he was sure it made sense. If he could only figure it out. Which, on the face of it, seemed impossible. Where did she get the money? When she was convicted she was barely seventeen. Could her aunt have died and left her money? But how? The cottage she’d lived in was rented.

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