Jaded by Rob Ashman

Author:Rob Ashman [Ashman, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books
Published: 2019-04-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

I pull the car past the wrought-iron gates and park on the driveway. A dim light penetrates the fluted glass in the main entrance; other than that, the place is in darkness. I switch off the engine and check my watch, almost 9pm. I get out into the cold air and crunch my way across the gravelled courtyard, towards the light.

A tall pitched roof towers above me with ornate latticework decorating the edging. The stone plaque mounted high on the wall reads, 1863. The trailing greenery across the front of the property gives the place a vicarage-like feel. Which is no bad thing, I suppose.

I hear the chimes of a bell echoing somewhere in the hallway as I press the button. The dark silhouette of a figure approaches. The door opens.

‘Are you Mr Ambrose?’ I ask.

‘Yes, you must be Richard Moss, we spoke on the phone. Please come in.’ The man standing in front of me is middle-aged, dressed in a black suit, his white face highlighted against the gloom. He oozes a sense of melancholy from every pore.

I shake his hand and enter into the warmth of the house. The name Richard Moss came up on my internet search of garages in the Salford area. I have no idea who he is, or whether his car servicing lives up to his advertising claims. But tonight he’ll do nicely.

‘Thank you for seeing me out of hours, Mr Ambrose,’ I say.

‘That’s fine, we try to be as flexible as we can. It is not always easy for people to get here during the day. I’m afraid ours is not a nine-to-five job.’ His delivery is soft and low, almost a whisper. Boy, this guy is in the right job.

‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’

‘My condolences on your loss.’

‘Oh, err, Michael was a colleague. Well, less of a colleague more of a work friend. I run a garage in Salford Quays called Moss Autos, you may have heard of us?’ Ambrose purses his lips and shakes his head. ‘Michael and I used to send each other work – if I was snowed under I’d give him a call and vice versa.’

‘His wife Miriam said they owned a garage.’

I nod my head and smile. He nods in return, minus the smile. The seconds tick by.

‘Is it possible for me to…?’ I ask, anxious to break the impasse.

‘Of course, please follow me.’ We make our way to the back of the hallway and Ambrose opens up a door leading to a long, dimly-lit corridor. There are doors leading off to the right and left. We reach the fourth one along. He pauses with his hand on the door handle. ‘Due to the circumstances, the family have requested a closed casket.’

‘I understand.’ Ambrose opens the door, steps inside and ushers me in.

‘If you need anything I won’t be far away.’ He crosses behind me and closes the door.

The room is lit by two subdued lamps, the walls painted cream, the carpet beige. A faint smell of furniture polish hangs in the air.

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