Web of Lies, Sally Rigby [list of e readers .TXT] 📗

of time in the company of his cousin, Sarah, as she was nearly twenty years older than him, although he liked her. Because of the circumstances of her husband Donald’s death, and the assumption that the media would be present, his father had decreed that Seb would represent the family. Being Viscount Worthington meant his father attended a number of royal occasions during the year, as did Seb’s older brother, Hubert, who was in line to inherit the title, and it wasn’t prudent to court the wrong sort of publicity.

Seb, on the other hand, had already stepped away from the family’s confines by opting for a career in the police force, and so attending the funeral of a financier who had stolen millions of pounds from unsuspecting investors through his Ponzi scheme and then committed suicide, wasn’t an issue.

What Seb had yet to discuss with his father was that he’d recently resigned from his position as a detective inspector in the City of London Police Fraud Squad. He’d actually been working at the Met Fraud Squad, where he’d been seconded, along with officers from other forces, to investigate a Singapore gambling syndicate that was responsible for match-fixing in sport. His particular focus had been on snooker, and he’d been closing in on them when the squad’s whole operation had been compromised.

An undercover reporter had discovered that a detective sergeant in the special squad Seb belonged to had been feeding information to the syndicate. It had explained why they’d always been one step ahead of the squad’s investigations. The team had been disbanded and he’d returned to the City of London force. But the only role on offer to him was in uniform. After fourteen years’ service, the majority of which was as a CID officer, it wasn’t something he was prepared to consider. So, he’d handed in his notice, and was now unemployed.

He’d booked into an Airbnb in Heygate Street, Market Harborough for a few days, and had left Elsa, his yellow Labrador, in the kitchen. He’d taken her for a quick walk before leaving, and she’d likely sleep for the rest of the afternoon. At nine years old, it was what she did most of the time.

He planned on using his time away from London to map out his future.

It had been many years since he’d visited Market Harborough, but it had still retained its quaint market town feel, very different from the hustle and bustle he was used. He was looking forward to having a few days to explore and unwind.

A black hearse drew up outside the church, with a coffin in the back, followed by a black limo. The driver got out and opened the back door. Out stepped Sarah and her grown-up sons, the twins. Their faces set like stone. Sarah appeared much older than he’d remembered, her body slightly stooping and her face pinched. Although it was hardly surprising after what she’d been through.

He stepped out of his car and stretched his arms and legs. Despite it being considered roomy, it wasn’t made for someone of his size. At six feet six inches tall, he struggled to find any vehicle comfortable. He headed over to where there were about twenty people waiting outside the 13th century church, well known for its historic spire. He nodded at those who glanced at him, not recognising anyone. Sarah and her sons walked into the church first, and the rest of them followed.

Were the boys not going to be pall-bearers? Surely they were old enough.

In his peripheral vision he noticed a man standing twenty yards away staring at the mourners. Was he from the media? He expected so, or why else would he be watching. No doubt the funeral would be reported on the local news later.

Once everyone was seated, the coffin was brought in and placed on the catafalque at the front of the church. The service was brief, comprising two hymns and a reading from the vicar. No one else spoke. After the coffin was taken from the church, Sarah and her two boys left, being the only immediate family present, followed by the rest of the mourners. It was a miserable day and had been raining on and off. They headed to the burial site and umbrellas were held up as the coffin was lowered into its hole in the ground.

Once it was all over, he was about to head back to his car when he heard his name being called. He turned to see Sarah striding towards him.

‘Hello, Seb. I see you drew the short straw.’

‘It’s not like that, Sarah,’ he said, leaning down and kissing her on both cheeks. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss.’

‘I know exactly how it is. I’m part of the family, remember. Even my mother refused to attend. She said she wasn’t well, but we all know the truth.’

Sarah’s mother was Seb’s father’s sister. So, yes, he knew exactly what the truth was.

‘You’re right. Appearances have to be maintained. How are you coping?’

‘Holding up. The boys have been a great help, although they’re going back to university next week. Which will leave me rattling around in the house alone.’

Did that mean she’d had to get rid of the staff?

‘It will get easier in time,’ he said, more as a platitude than anything else, as he had no idea whether it would.

‘What did you think to the service? It wasn’t what I’d have wanted, but under the circumstances what else could we do?’ she said, sighing.

‘It was appropriate, I agree.’

‘Will you be coming back to the house for lunch? We’ve put on a spread for everyone, though judging by the turnout we’ll have enough food to last the rest of the week and into next.’ She gave a wry smile.

He admired her stoicism. It couldn’t have been easy for her or the twins, who he’d noticed were standing away from the other mourners, tight expressions on their faces.

Funerals in their family would normally attract hundreds of people to pay their respects.