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Chapter 54
Poewas lost. He hadn’t expected to be, as he thought he knew the Corbridge area reasonably well. It had a good bookshop and a microbrewery, pretty much two of his favourite things. The satnav said he’d reached his destination a mile down a narrow country lane. He didn’t like satnavs. He wasn’t stupid enough to drive into a river because a robot told him to, but he was forever typing in the wrong postcode. But Bradshaw had entered Elcid Doyle’s address and it was therefore correct. She didn’t make mistakes like that.
So far, the journey time from Doyle’s workplace – the Royal Victoria Infirmary – to the address on the satnav had been within Bradshaw’s margin of error.
‘I don’t think Northumbria Police made a mistake with the time discrepancy, Poe,’ she said. ‘There are forty minutes we can’t account for.’
Poe grunted his annoyance. He hadn’t thought Northumbria had made a mistake, but was disappointed anyway. He now had to find an alternative explanation.
He stopped in front of the intricate, wrought-iron gates of what he assumed was the entrance to a stately home. There was another car parked a couple of hundred yards ahead of him. A red Volvo. It had pulled up on the side of the road as well. Its warning signal was on. Poe reckoned they were lost too. Unsurprising really – he hadn’t seen a signpost for miles.
Poe tried to get his bearings. If the estate were on the map he would have a reference point to work from. He searched for the estate’s name, but the arching canopy of trees cast the entrance in shadows. The gates were black. Poe could see bubbles of rust erupting, like lava, on the thick vertical bars. They were being maintained,but not expensively. A new padlock and chain ensured they couldn’t be opened. No one lived there then. The drive twisted up an incline and into the distance, meaning Poe couldn’t see the house.
Cumbria and Northumberland had hundreds of sprawling estates like this. They seemed to be propped up by subsidies and organised shoots. Deer and game mainly.
Poe was fundamentally opposed to inherited wealth, although he’d never put a finger on why. His father owned several properties and they’d never discussed what would happen when he died. He had no desire to inherit a property portfolio, but he was damned if the government were getting hold of it. Something to stew over.
‘What’s Estelle’s dad’s address again, Tilly?’
She told him.
‘And I’ve been tracking our journey on my phone,’ she added. ‘We aren’t lost, Poe. The house just isn’t where we were told it would be.’
He went back to studying the map. ‘What’s it called again, Tilly?’ he said
‘Highwood, Poe.’
‘And we were given no other directions?’
‘No. Just the house name and postcode.’
‘I’ll call Estelle’s solicitor,’ Poe said. ‘She’ll know where it is. Her firm has represented the family for generations.’
He took a moment to digest his own words. ‘That’s odd, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘What is, Poe?’
‘Who has a family firm of solicitors these days?’
‘I don’t know, Poe. I do all my own legal work. I find it therapeutic.’
Poe glanced at her. ‘You’re very strange, Tilly. But my point is that normal people engage solicitors when they’re buying a house, getting divorced or when someone dies.’
‘I haven’t thought about it, Poe.’
He shrugged. It was probably nothing. He found Ania Kierczynska in his contacts and called her.
‘Ania,’ he said when she answered. ‘We can’t find Highwood. The satnav has taken us to the middle of nowhere. Are there any directions you can give me?’
‘Why do you want to see Highwood?’ she asked. ‘The police haven’t released it yet.’
‘We’ve been timing Estelle’s journey.’
‘I have news on that, as it happens. My assistant found something buried in one of the police statements.’
‘Helpful?’
‘Possibly.’
