I said and took a sip from my glass. “It was getting dark, and we started to get really nervous. Everyone, even some of the guests if I remember correctly, was out looking for him. I told everyone where I’d seen him running to and we all went to comb the park. My parents called the police and then the whole thing became this massive search operation that lasted for a month and then some.”
“Yes, I heard everyone was looking for Charlie. My mom was there as well.”
I didn’t remember the last bit but nodded anyway.
“After six months, my mother was emotionally drained. It was decided that my father would take her to France to recuperate. It was a temporary arrangement. Not sure if you know this, but my grandparents had a château which they had bequeathed to my mother and her sister. After some time, though, my mother developed this notion that Maple Grove House was cursed and persuaded my father to stay in France for a while longer. Each time my father brought up the idea of returning, my mother would ask for ‘a bit longer’, which eventually turned into ‘never.’ At that time, we still had a pig farm that was generating some income. It had been profitable until a few years ago when the tenant died, and his kids didn’t want to be pig farmers. Well, my father went back from time to time to take care of some things, but my mother was adamant she didn’t want to set foot in the house again. Gradually, my father stopped coming back as well and things were getting done through our lawyer.”
Jared nodded. “What about you?”
“I spent some time in France, came back to go to university, graduated and have been in the City ever since. Never went back to the house either,” I said and felt that it was a bit too much. The beer wasn’t working in my favor.
Jared pondered his next thought. “He was running towards the main gates, and he was wearing a white shirt?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You know, you might have seen me, not Charlie.”
“What?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about today. I think we’ll need something stronger than beer, though.”
When our “stronger” single malt drink arrived, Jared took his phone and speed dialed a number.
“Freddy, bring it in,” he said and put the phone down. He took his glass, lifted it up and looked through it as if admiring the rich, medium dark shade of orange color of the drink. He gave it a sniff. “Ah, this stuff is the best.”
A tall man with wide shoulders and a square jaw dressed in a black suit walked in the bar with a white paper shopping bag. He approached the table, placed the bag on it and looked at Jared.
“That’ll be all, Freddy. Thanks.” Jared said.
Freddy nodded and left without saying a word.
I wasn’t going to reveal my anxiety by asking questions about the stupid bag, so I took my whiskey and emptied it with one gulp. It was nice and smooth. The Irish knew how to make the good stuff.
“Well,” Jared finally broke the silence, “there’s something I want to give you back.”
“Give me back? I can’t remember giving you anything, to be honest.”
Jared pushed the bag closer to me.
“Open it. It belongs to your family.”
I slowly took the bag and looked inside. There was a little size white shirt, neatly folded and wrapped with a long blue string inside. I looked at Jared.
“Take it out,” he said.
So I did. Before seeing it, somehow, I already knew what I was going to see on that shirt. Slowly, I untied the string and revealed the embroidered anagram CJM on it.
“Charles John Montague,” Jared said. “I noticed you have a similar one on your cuff. You still customize all your shirts, don’t you?”
I did have a similar style anagram on my cuff, except it was my name, AJM II for Alexander James Montague II, and I’d been wearing dress shirts, polo shirts, and even underwear with my name on them all my life.
I was trying to gather my thoughts. “How … Why do you have this?”
“Well, Charlie gave me this shirt the day before I left the estate. I didn’t own anything that nice, as you might imagine. He gave it to me as a goodbye present.”
I shook my head, trying to digest the information. I didn’t remember Charlie giving away any of his stuff.
“He gave it to you the day before you left? When was it again?”
“It was on the day when he disappeared.”
Chapter 5
“Could you please step on it?” I asked the taxi driver. “I need to get on the last train.”
The man didn’t dignify me with an answer, but he did make the cab go faster. Shamefacedly, I took another dosage of Ching at the next traffic light in order not to spill the stuff.
This is insane. I’ll make a big fool out of myself.
My phone rang. It was our former butler turned de facto estate manager.
“Mr. Montague, this is Harry Schulenburg,” he said.
“Yes, Harry. I need you to open the house first thing tomorrow morning,” I said wiping my nose.
“It can be arranged, Mr. Montague. May I ask if you’ll be traveling alone?”
“Yes.”
“Will you be requiring any assistance?”
Good old Schulenburg. He’d started to work for my father when they were both young men in their twenties. He’d come from South Africa to see the land of his predecessors and decided to stay. He’d married a local lady, but she’d gotten sick and passed away after only ten years. He never remarried. He volunteered to stay behind and look after the house. He said that he was “tied to this land until the day he was no longer needed,” and we couldn’t imagine the house without him. Nothing could rattle his professional calm, which had helped him run the house without its owners and deal with the tenants for the past twenty-three years.
“I think I’ll be fine. I may need a flashlight and the keys to the basement, though.”
“I’ll have them and a guest room ready for you tomorrow morning.”
“Could you do it tonight, just in case, if it’s possible?”
“Certainly, sir,” he said without a hint of surprise.
“Thank you, Harry,” I said and rang off.
I placed my head on the back of the seat, not worrying too much about the cleanliness of it, and closed my eyes. I needed a few moments to understand what had just happened back in the pub and the possible ramifications of whatever was going to happen tomorrow.
What was Jared saying back there again?
“My mom told me what happened when we were on the way to the States,” he said,
