Lost Souls

36

Douglas Galbraith bit into his toasted crumpet, and then quickly wiped his hand across his chin, to remove a drip of melted butter, before it fell onto his Italian, silk, sea blue shirt.  He then took a sip from his latte and sat back in his chair. Ever since Jimmy had escaped, the mood in Galbraith Lodge had been as dark as the deepest cave.

​Galbraith crossed his legs, brushed imaginary fluff from his thigh, and waited impatiently until Mrs. MacDonald, who was sitting opposite him, finished her scone before he spoke. "Why did he come here after such a long time?" he asked, not really expecting any answers from the old lady that would satisfy his curiosity.

​Mrs. MacDonald shrugged. "I don't know love.
Maybe he just wanted to steal something he could sell. After all he doesn't have much does he?"

​"He doesn't deserve anything," Galbraith muttered. "No, it wasn't that. He was looking for something specific."

​Mrs. MacDonald remained silent as she finished her food.

​Galbraith could feel his frustration building. "He knows a lot about the past. Maybe he's trying to stir things up. But why now?"

​"This has all started since that family took over the Manor. Maybe it's got something to do with them?"

​"What have they got to do with anything? My people check out everyone that shows an interest in the house. They're a normal everyday family from London. They can't know what happened over thirty years ago."

​"Perhaps Jimmy told them?" Mrs. MacDonald pointed out

​Galbraith laughed. "Don't be stupid. He'd have to be totally insane to tell them, beside's they'd never believe him anyway. Probably have him committed."

​Mrs. MacDonald sucked her teeth as she removed some food debris. "All I'm saying is it might be worth taking another look at them, or perhaps arranging to meet a few of them to see what, if anything they do know."

​"You know I don't go out anywhere unless I have to, and I certainly don't do dinner parties."

​Mrs. MacDonald chuckled. "I'm not suggesting you become best friends, just meet them to say hi, welcome to Dovecot Manor, that sort of thing. During conversation you can drop in the odd question and see if they know anything at all."

​"It's an idea I suppose, although I don't like it."

​"If it stops the police breaking down your door, then it's got to be worth it love," Mrs. MacDonald pointed out cheerily.

​"The police wouldn't dare come here. I pay them good money to leave me alone," Galbraith growled

​"If this family can come up with enough to warrant an investigation, it won't be the local bobbies who come to see you though," Mrs. MacDonald pointed out as she started on another crumpet.

​Galbraith hated to be told what to do, and he was particularly annoyed when someone came up with a valuable argument to a problem he should have thought off. Standing up quickly, he drained his coffee, and headed out the room, leaving Mrs. MacDonald alone, but happy she could know finish her lunch without anymore interruptions. 

In his study, Galbraith sat behind his large mahogany desk. Two men, dressed in brown leather jackets, light blue jeans and wearing training shoes, stood before him waiting for him to issue their orders. Both men had worked for Galbraith for several years and were his two most trusted employee's.

​Galbraith was furiously scribbling a note on a headed A4 sheet of paper. When he finished, he folded it neatly, pushed it into a gold coloured envelope with the Galbraith crest embossed across the front, and handed it to one of the men. "I want you to deliver this to the Manor house. If you get asked anything, play dumb. That shouldn't be difficult for the pair of you."

​The man holding the envelope smiled. "Yeah, we can play the village idiots well, we've had years of practice looking after you."

​Galbraith grinned. He liked to have some banter with his men, believing it helped form a bond, strong enough that they'd protect him with their lives if needed. "It's just as well I like you Brian, otherwise I'd have your cheeky tongue cut out and fed to the dogs."

​"They'd get food poisoning gov," the other man joked.

​"I brush my tongue every morning," Brian replied, pretending to be hurt by the comment.

​"That's nice to know. Now go brush down your chauffeurs hat and deliver my letter," Galbraith teased.

​Brian offered a theatrical bow and backed slowly out the room. The other man shook his head. "Why do I have to work with him?" he asked Galbraith, as he laughed at Brian trying to exit the room without knocking anything over.

​"Because he's your brother mate," Galbraith answered, before adding, "Now get after him and earn your money for a change.

​"Sir!" the man said, as he saluted and followed his brother out the study.

​Galbraith watched the two men leave. He couldn't help liking the pair. They'd always been loyal, and in this day and age, that was a trait Galbraith valued highly. Most importantly the men had never failed to carry out any task given to them. They'd carried out all instructions correctly, and on more than one occasion, they'd been forced to use physical violence on Galbraith's instruction.

​As he opened a drawer and took out a large Cuban cigar, Galbraith felt a sudden calm draping itself around his shoulders. For the first time since Jimmy's visit, he felt safe. No one would be allowed to interfere with his lifestyle, and if needed his men would make sure that didn't happen.