To Whom It May Concern

Chapter One- The Lady In Gold

Chapter 1 - The Lady in Gold

This tale begins, as many tales before it have, in a small inconspicuous village in the middle of nowhere.   The village, to anyone who cared to stop and take a look, seemed to be quite normal.  Normal and boring.  Their eyes would jump from the tiny post office to the little café and they would exclaim 'how quaint' before jumping into their fancy car and escaping down the nearest motorway.

They would never expect this tiny village to be involved in anything mysterious.

But they would be wrong.

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Mr Arthur Morris was not a patient man.

As the only solicitor in the minuscule village of Lower Baddesley, he was of the opinion that he was the only person with whom the vaguest spark of intelligence could ever be found.  Subsequently, his manner was often that of an old donkey, stubborn and disagreeable. His appearance didn't add to his appeal either.  He was rather short, at a measly 4 ft. 6.  Underneath his rather tacky suit was a bulging midriff, the consequence of one too many drinks at the local pub.  Glasses rather like the eyes of an owl were perched on a crooked nose and what was left of his hair was thin and a rather mousy brown.  Overall,  Mr Morris was an unpleasant, middle-aged man who thought the World revolved around him and expected everyone else to think so too.

Therefore, on the Tuesday that our tale is to begin, he was not at all in a good mood.  He was expecting the arrival of four people to be read the contents of the will of a Ms Jane Mallard.  He had expected them to have arrived by now, the reading was scheduled to take place at 4:00 pm.

It was now 4:56.

Just as he brought his wrist up to once again inspect the position of the hands on his battered Rolex, the bell signalling the arrival of someone to the solicitors' office rang out clearly through the musty air.  A beautifully bejewelled lady swanned in.

The precious stones embedded in her many pieces of jewellery glinted and swayed in the florescent lights that lit up the workspace.  Dazzling with their beauty all who beheld them. They distracted the eye from the lady herself.  Mr Morris thought callously that that was probably the intention, as the woman herself had no beauty to speak of, with her beak like nose and beady eyes.  All together, she gave the impression of a large bird of prey, who had since given up hunting in favour of roosting in Tiffany's.

 She was followed by an older gentleman in an equally expensive ensemble, again without many distinguishing features apart from the look of distain at the cramped and cluttered office.  The look matched the lady who looked as though she had been drizzled in gold.

With her head held high with the pride of a peacock, her designer handbag clutched in the claw-like hands, Mr Morris developed an instant dislike for her. This was doubled ten-fold when she introduced herself in a lofty manner as Mrs Ruth Downing, sister of the late Jane Mallard, the man next to her being her husband.

Mr Morris had been personally acquainted with Ms Mallard, having met her many a time in the village shop.  He had found her a quiet, timid woman with a fear of loud noises.  After many of these chance encounters, they had struck up a close bond.  Her death had struck him hard, as she had been his only true friend.  Both of them were not very popular members of the community, and so stuck together.  Mr Morris, being the way he is, made people avoid him, but Jane was a conundrum.

Her arrival in the village a few short years ago had been the source of much village gossip.  A rich young woman from America moving here?  The village wasn't even on most maps yet she settled here of all places and moved into a small cottage, alone.  Many thought that she was trying to escape something in America, perhaps an abusive husband or money difficulties.  The only reason people knew she came from money was that her clothes, though they looked of-the-rack, were in fact designer pieces from all over the World.  Many regarded their new neighbour as an enigma, and didn't speak to her.  Arthur was the only one who had ever spoken to her without the wish of trying to get money out of her, due to his  belief that he was superior to everyone else.  This unlikely friendship led to  Jane confiding in him about her family, particularly her sister, Ruth.

There had been no love lost there.

He wondered, as the Downing's perched on one of the over-stuffed couches in the office, why she would possibly come all the way from America for her sisters will reading.  She had never visited Lower Baddesley before, and had never written to her sister as far as he had known.  Yet here she was.

Just as he was about to enquire about the others specified to be present at the will reading, in case Mrs Downing knew any of them, the bell rang out again.

This was going to be a long day.