Third To Die. Carys Jones

falls to me,” Aiden concluded stoically. “So what’s the appointment?”

      “It’s with a client to amend their last will and testament.”

      “Okay,” Aiden looked at Betty for more details. The creation and amendment of wills were relatively standard within the company so Aiden knew he would have no trouble handling the case.

      Betty seemed reluctant to proceed which surprised Aiden.

      “I can assure you I’m fine writing up a will,” Aiden smiled at her. “I did a truckload of them back in Chicago with all sorts of caveats. I can handle this client, it won’t be a problem.”

      “That’s just it,” Betty said grimly. “The client might be a problem.”

      “Who is it?” Aiden leaned forward, his eyes sharp with interest whilst his heart fluttered nervously against his rib cage.

      Betty took a sharp intake of breath.

      “It’s Clyde White.”

      Aiden leaned back, taking in the name.

      “I can reschedule!” Betty insisted. “But you know how difficult he can be.”

      Aiden knew all too well just how difficult Clyde White had been. Father to the murdered Brandon White, he refused to see his son as anything other than a martyr and demonised the very woman his son had mercilessly beat upon.

      In his desire to protect his son’s name, Clyde had even made ominous threats to Isla and Meegan. Aiden detested the man and he felt his blood begin to boil just upon hearing his name.

      “I’ll reschedule,” Betty decided nervously as she saw the curtain of resentment sweep across Aiden’s handsome face.

      “No, no,” Aiden reached out a hand to gesture for her to stop. “I’ll go. It will be fine.”

      “Are you sure?” Betty peered at Aiden from behind her glasses. “I mean, you and Clyde White have never been on good terms. And I imagine the whole reason he’s amending his will is because of Brandon’s passing. I’d hate him to be cruel to you.”

      “It’s all water under the bridge,” Aiden reassured the old woman that he himself had reservations about how Clyde White would receive him. As Betty had so astutely pointed out, they’d never been on good terms.

      “If you’re sure,” Betty nodded. “The appointment is at three out at his lumber yard. Do you need directions?”

      “No,” Aiden shook his head slowly. “I remember the way.”

      “I sure hope he doesn’t give you too hard a time,” Betty fretted. “Because the problem with Avalon is, there aren’t any bridges for the water to go under.”

      Aiden nodded with understanding. Avalon was certainly the sort of place where ghosts of the past refused to reside quietly in the background.

      “Three o’ clock,” Aiden made a scribbled note of the appointment. “Not a problem.”

      “You always were so brave,” Betty smiled, blushing slightly. “Can I get you a coffee?”

      “Sure,” Aiden smiled and glanced at the clock. It was even half past nine. With an appointment with Clyde White looming, he knew he was going to be in for a long, hot day.

      *

      It had been a long time since Aiden had last drove out to Avalon Pine, the timber company owned by Clyde White, but the route was still reassuringly familiar to him. The day had grown sticky and hot, making Aiden’s shirt cling to him despite the air-conditioned air roaring out of the vents in his car.

      After parking his car in the customer lot, Aiden took a moment to brace himself for what would inevitably be a difficult reunion. The last time he’d seen Clyde White, he’d been representing Brandy and trying to uncover the truth around Brandon’s death. Clyde had been a doting father, guarding his son’s secrets with dogged determination even in the wake of his demise.

      The heat hit Aiden as soon as he emerged from the confines of his car, as did the wall of sound which accompanied a busy lumber yard. All around him there was a cacophony of sound as workers sawed, drilled and hauled timber around the Avalon Pine site.

      Little had changed since Aiden had last been there. There was the same long log cabin boasting the company logo within which Clyde White, Site Manager, resided. Aiden squinted in the sunlight as he looked over at the building and, for a moment, he hesitated. He didn’t relish the situation he was about to walk into.

      “Damn it, Edmond,” he grumbled to himself as he finally started walking across the lot, briefcase in hand, towards the cabin.

      *

      Thankfully, once Aiden entered the log cabin he was delivered from the heat outside and bathed in refreshing, cool air. He felt almost euphoric to be able to abandon the oppressive heat of the day.

      A young blonde glanced up expectantly from behind a large desk. She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and let her hand hover over the telephone to her left.

      “I’m from Copes and May,” Aiden explained to her, his tone friendly. “I’ve got an appointment with Clyde White at three.”

      The young woman held him in her gaze for a second too long and then placed both hands on her computer’s keyboard and began furiously typing. Her long nails, painted a shade of blue more brilliant than the clearest sky, struggled to navigate between the plastic keys. She pursed her ruby-red lips in frustration.

      “He’s expecting me,” Aiden added helpfully. “Well, not me personally, but someone from Copes and May.”

      The woman ceased typing and smiled falsely.

      “I’ve found the appointment,” she reported in her thick Southern accent. “I’ll just let Mr. White know you’re here.”

      “Thank you,” Aiden nodded at her and moved to sit down on a nearby sofa. He watched as the blonde picked up the telephone and swiftly dialled a succession of numbers into the keypad.

      “Your three o clock is here,” she said abruptly after a brief pause. Then she placed the phone down and looked across at Aiden.

      “You can go on in.”

      “Thank you.”

      *

      Aiden pushed open the door to Clyde White’s office and was met by a flourish of crisp air. In the modestly sized room there was the same grand desk, opposite which were placed two leather chairs. On the wall behind the desk remained the same collection of framed photographs and newspaper clippings about Brandon. Clearly the scandal of the murder trial had done nothing to quash Clyde’s devotion to his late son.

      Clyde White was sat behind his desk, the pictures of Brandon providing a morbid backdrop to his work day. He was dressed in a cream short-sleeved shirt and his hair boasted a greater ratio of grey to black than it had done when Aiden had last seen him. He smiled courteously as Aiden walked in and gestured to the leather chairs.

      “Afternoon, Mr. White,” Aiden reached over to shake the man’s hand before sitting down. Clyde White gripped it firmly as they shook. He was the sort of man who judged someone by the calibre of their handshake.

      Aiden popped open his briefcase and retrieved some documents which Clyde would need to fill in.

      “I know you were expecting Edmond,” Aiden began, “but sadly he’s not in today so you’ve got me instead.”

      “Well aren’t I the lucky one?” Clyde noted flatly.

      “You’re looking to amend your present will?” Aiden passed some paperwork across to Clyde.

      Opening a drawer in his desk, Clyde pulled out some fashionable reading glasses. Aiden didn’t remember him needing them before. He watched the older man as he scrutinized the paperwork.

      “You just