Chapter 5

 

 

Monday afternoon arrived and Ben and his gran readied themselves for the funeral and the meeting with Tom French. Ben put on a clean collared shirt and his best jeans and denim jacket, whilst his gran put on a smart dress and jacket.

 

They drove down to Mr French’s office, their appointment for two-thirty, with the funeral being at four at a nearby cemetery. They were shown into Mr French’s office and he seated them in two comfortable chairs facing his large desk.

 

‘Now, I would first like again to add my condolences to you both at Mr Wallace’s death,’ Mr French began, a large man with a florid face and an almost permanent smile. ‘You may have heard that he was a very generous benefactor to the community. Much of his estate has been left to various sporting groups and charities. He has also left a sum of money for Ben.’

 

‘He has?’ Ben asked in surprise.

 

‘My word!’ his gran said in shock.

 

Mr French smile broadened.

 

‘Yes, it’s a small amount compared to what he had in his estate and Ben won’t be able to access it till he is eighteen. Till then the hundred thousand dollars will be earning healthy interest…’

 

‘A… a hundred thousand dollars!’ Ben gasped. ‘That’s a fortune!’

 

‘I… I don’t know what to say,’ said his gran, tears springing into her eyes. ‘It’s a most generous gift.’

 

‘Indeed it is, but Mr Wallace obviously thought highly of his friendship with you, Ben,’ Mr French said. ‘Now I’ll draw up the necessary paperwork for the transfer of the money into an interest bearing account and we’ll look after it till Ben is of age.’

 

‘Of course,’ Alice said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue she had taken from her bag. ‘My goodness, Ben! This will pay for a handsome university education.’

 

‘Yeah… it will I suppose,’ Ben replied, his tone quite flat. He would have much preferred Mr Wallace to be alive than have his money.

 

‘And now I need to have a quiet word with Ben alone,’ Mr French said. ‘If you could wait outside for a few moments Mrs Williams, it won’t take more than a minute or so.’

 

Alice gave Ben a wondering look and then getting up, left the room. Once she was gone Mr French picked up a plain white envelope on top of the desk.

 

‘Now Ben, Mr Wallace left me this letter to give to you. He said it was to be given to you alone and that only you were to read its contents. It doesn’t have anything to do with his estate apparently and it’s more than likely advice on what you should do with the money he left you.’

 

Ben’s heart rate leapt as Mr French spoke and his arms went all prickly as he handed him the letter. His mind spun with what might be in it. When had Mr Wallace written it he wondered? If it had been only recently, would it have something to say about the strange globe?

 

‘Ah… thank you,’ he said nervously, slipping the letter into his jacket pocket.

 

Mr French smiled and rose to his feet.

 

‘Good, then that’s all settled now,’ he said. ‘I’ll be at the funeral myself giving the eulogy, so we should all head over to the cemetery.’

 

He guided Ben out of the office to where his gran was waiting and together they headed out of the building into the street. And all the while the letter feeling like a hot coal in his jacket pocket.

 

They drove to the cemetery with Ben expecting his gran to ask what Mr French had wanted with him. But she was more concerned with Ben’s reaction to the money left to him. She could sense he was uncomfortable about it.

 

‘You mustn’t feel guilty about the money, Ben,’ she said as they drove along. ‘Just feel happy that Mr Wallace liked you so much.’

 

‘I know,’ Ben replied. ‘I just wish he hadn’t gone.’

 

‘I know, sweetheart. So do, I.’

 

They arrived at the cemetery and visited its florist where they bought a dozen red roses to place on the coffin. They were directed to the gravesite where about a dozen people were gathered. His gran went round introducing themselves and they found that all were from the charities and sporting groups that Mr Wallace had supported.

 

Mr French arrived and had just stepped up to the coffin suspended above the open grave to start the eulogy, when Ben saw someone move in the shadows of a nearby tree.

 

His heart gave a lurch as Alex Runcin himself stepped into the sunlight. He walked over to stand on the other side of the grave, his eyes covered in dark sunglasses. Yet Ben got the feeling that he was looking very much at him.

 

‘Friends,’ began Mr French. ‘We are gathered here today to remember Mr John Wallace. He was a member of our community for many, many years and was very generous to its needs and those deserving of help. For those few who knew him, he was a quiet but likeable man and will be sorely missed…’

 

Ben didn’t hear the rest of the eulogy, unnerved by the appearance of Alex Runcin. He was also suddenly angry, furious that he would attend the funeral after threatening him. He felt like shouting that this was the man behind the fire. But he didn’t, knowing that no-one would believe him and that he would look like foolish.

 

Then the eulogy was over and the coffin was lowered into the grave. The small group of mourners broke up till it was just Ben, his gran and Alex Runcin remaining. Much to his disquiet his gran went over to the man and introduced herself. He followed quite reluctantly.

 

‘Were you a friend of his?’ his gran was asking.

 

‘No, I didn’t know him personally,’ he replied. ‘But my father knew him quite well before he died a few years ago.’

 

‘It’s all very sad, the fire and all and his heart giving out,’ his gran said.

 

‘Yes, it was sad,’ Alex Runcin replied with a small shake of his head. Ben just felt like throwing something at him because he knew he was faking any concern. ‘But I hear that Ben was quite the hero that night… very nearly saved the man.’

 

‘That’s right, he did,’ his gran replied proudly.

 

‘Well, my father knew Mr Wallace quite well as I said,’ Alex Runcin said. ‘If he had been alive, he would want to thank him. Do you think I could have a word with Ben in private?’

 

Ben of course didn’t feel like talking to Alex Runcin at all, but knew he had no excuse not to.

 

‘Of course,’ his gran replied and gave Ben’s arm a squeeze. ‘I’ll wait by the car.’

 

‘All right,’ Ben replied.

 

She wandered away and when Ben looked back to Alex Runcin, he gave a start. His burly driver had appeared from nowhere and was standing a step or two behind the man.

 

‘Do you know who I am, Ben?’ Alex Runcin asked, taking off his sunglasses and looking at him with his dark, calculating eyes.

 

Ben shook his head.

 

‘Well, my name’s Alex Runcin. As I said, my father knew John Wallace years ago. They were firm friends, both being archaeologists. I’m told Mr Wallace had an interesting museum in his house. Did you ever see it?’

 

Ben figured there would be no point in lying too much to this man. He had an idea that he would know a good deal about how well he had known Mr Wallace. But he wouldn’t tell him everything of course and he would also act a little dumb.

 

‘Well… it wasn’t much of a museum, just full of old sculptures and rocks,’ Ben said replied. ‘Pretty boring really.’

 

Alex Runcin was silent a few moments, his eyes appraising Ben intently.

 

‘Then he didn’t by any chance give you anything from it recently?’ he asked. ‘I only ask because my father said he had some rather unique artefacts. I would pay handsomely for anything that he might have given you.’

 

‘No, he didn’t give me anything,’ Ben responded as calmly as he could.

 

Alex Runcin regarded him again in silence for a few moments. Ben could feel sweat running down his back he was that nervous.

 

‘I understand Mr Wallace left you some money… a very generous amount for being just a neighbour.’

 

Ben’s mind whirled. How had Alex Runcin found that out, he wondered? He started to panic a little, suddenly feeling a little trapped.

 

‘Well… I did some odd jobs around the house for him,’ he managed to say. ‘I don’t know why he left me the money… he just did.’

 

It was then that Alex Runcin’s driver stepped up suddenly beside his employer and Ben took a step backwards, a little unnerved at the size of the man.

 

‘Mr Jones!’ Alex Runcin said a mildly scolding tone. ‘I think you’ve startled our young friend.’

 

‘Did I?’ Mr Jones replied bluntly, eyeing Ben impassively.

 

‘Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Ben,’ Alex Runcin said with a thin smile.

 

‘Yeah… well, me too,’ Ben replied, then quickly turned and headed away from the pair.

 

* * *

 

Alex Runcin watched Ben walk away, his expression very thoughtful and his dark eyes narrowed.

 

‘I don’t think he was telling me the truth, Mr Jones,’ he said.

 

‘He looked a bit fidgety to me, sir,’ Mr Jones replied.

 

Alex Runcin gave a resigned sigh.

 

‘It was a pity the house burnt down so quickly,’ he said. ‘Old, dry wood no doubt. That accelerant you used was too efficient I think.’

 

‘I’m sorry about that, sir,’ Mr Jones said quickly, knowing his boss was not one who liked being disappointed. ‘I meant to torch just the garage.’

 

‘Well, what’s done is done, Mr Jones. Indeed, whilst we wanted to flush Wallace out, we were not to know he would die of a heart attack. But maybe that’s not surprising… considering how old he was. But all is not lost I think. We’ll see the boy again, in a more private setting. He’s hiding something and I mean to find out what it is.’