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 need to highlight what needs amending,” Aiden prompted him. “Or I can help you with it, if you like?”
Clyde sighed and placed the paper he was holding flat on his desk and looked squarely at Aiden.
“Says here I’m leaving everything to Brandon. Guess that needs to change.”
Aiden coughed awkwardly.
“I’ve been meaning to update this for ages,” Clyde continued. “Kept putting it off. Felt too painful, too final.”
The pain Aiden had originally seen in Clyde White over his son’s death still existed behind his eyes, infecting his whole demeanour so that he physically wilted when he spoke about his son.
“I’m sorry this is difficult for you,” Aiden offered kindly.
“No, you’re not,” Clyde replied bluntly. “You thought my son was a monster. You did everything you could to destroy the legacy he had here in this town.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” Aiden quickly corrected him. “I was just searching for the truth.”
“And now a man of God sits rotting in prison,” Clyde sighed, referring to the real killer of his son, Father West, the man who had almost let Brandy take the fall for a crime she didn’t commit, had Aiden not intervened.
“No jury in the land is ever going to convict him.”
Aiden was silent. He knew better than to overly engage with Clyde regarding what happened with Brandy’s murder trial.
“I suppose you think I should leave everything to her,” Clyde asked heatedly. “She is, after all, my son’s widow.”
“Whoever you state as your benefactor is completely up to you.”
“She doesn’t deserve a dime,” Clyde seethed as his eyes misted behind the lenses of his glasses.
“Perhaps you want some time to think it over,” Aiden suggested helpfully. “I could leave these here and collect them at a later date.”
“No need,” Clyde raised his palm to Aiden and with his other hand picked up a pen and swiftly began amending the document before him.
“I know who I need to make my will out to,” he explained.
“Oh,” Aiden tried to not sound surprised. “Good.”
Once Clyde was done writing, he slid the piece of paper back to Aiden.
“Everything in order?” Clyde asked.
Aiden glanced over the paperwork and felt his body stiffen in shock when he saw that Clyde was now leaving his entire estate to Edmond Copes’ next of kin.
“You look surprised,” Clyde smirked slightly as he spoke.
“I didn’t realize you and Edmond were so close,” Aiden admitted.
“Edmond Copes is a good man,” Clyde declared sincerely. “Terrible thing what’s happening to him. I’ve no family left of my own to have to support so the least I can do for him is to help his loved ones after we’re both gone.”
“What terrible thing?” Aiden asked, leaning forward.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” Clyde looked delighted by Aiden’s obliviousness.
“Know what?”
“Edmond hasn’t been in work for several weeks now, correct?”
“That’s right, he’s off sick.”
Clyde shook his head slowly, a forlorn expression casting a shadow across his chiselled features. The line around his eyes seem to deepen as he looked across at Aiden.
“He’s not sick, Mr. Connelly. He’s dying.”
“What?” Aiden gripped the arms of the leather chair for support.
“Cancer. He was diagnosed at the start of the month but they caught it too late,” Clyde explained, his voice becoming brittle.
“Not many people know. He started chemotherapy last week and, well, it’s taken it out of him. The doctors aren’t hopeful for his prognosis.”
Aiden was speechless. Clyde White had to be wrong. There was no way that Edmond Copes was dying. When Aiden had last seen the old man a few weeks ago, he’d been his usual, jovial self, there was no indication at all that anything
