Burntbridge Boys by John F Leonard

Author:John F Leonard [Leonard, John F]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-08T22:00:00+00:00

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She eyed the box and skittered away from the kitchen table where he’d laid it.

There was something uneasy in that reaction which, to Sammy’s way of thinking, resembled distaste laced with fear.

He chose not to ponder it.

She opened a cupboard.

Fetched out two cut-glass tumblers and a bottle of good whiskey. Ray never did do second-rate, right to end. Even by proxy.

Beryl poured generous measures, passed him the drink and stood by the sink.

Gaze shifting between the surface of the table and his face.

Sammy swallowed it in one gulp.

Winced at the burn on his throat and was thankful for the distraction. None of this was what he’d expected and he felt a mounting need to complete the niceties and skedaddle.

“Ray mentioned a house. Said to ask you about it. Probably nothing. I don’t know, he was tired. Upset. Not himself.”

He’d spoken to break the silence more than out of any genuine interest in some mythical residence that was probably a product of Ray’s mental disintegration.

The latter was obvious.

His old boss, the man who could have penned the dodgy-dealing handbook, was clearly heading off round the bend.

“Yes, he’s giving you one of his properties. As well as that thing.”

The statement made him sit up straighter.

He accepted a refill.

She smiled and Sammy experienced a pain in his chest that had nothing to do with physical distress. The bravery of that smile gave him a glimpse of a Beryl he’d not known. The girl Ray McEvoy had married. A wrinkle-free beauty which still had some innocence and hope left in it.

Sammy squashed the emotion and listened with renewed interest. Structural flaws in his heart, which should have been hardened past such nonsense, were a diversion.

Property was property.

Money was money and only fools worried about the character and age of the gift horse.

“An old place. Beil House. Lovely, in a somewhat lonely way. It has quite the view, overlooking Cinderlake water. The proverbial house in the hills. A place with a name, Fledging Deep. On the outskirts of Bledbrooke, the nearest town to here. Ray said it would be best in your wife’s maiden name. He didn’t explain and I didn’t ask. The explanations are rarely good. Not knowing has kept me sane, so far, and I’m not about to meddle with something too broken to be fixed.”

Sammy mumbled acquiescence. Drank another drink, maybe more than one, as they addressed administrative necessities. Left as soon as he could, without seeming impolite.

Those of a poetic inclination might have thought the devil was on his heels. Irrespective of your literary leanings, he drove off with a devil’s work sitting on the passenger seat.

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