Book 5
He had a quick look in the family bathroom. It was empty as he had expected: just a hand towel and a bottle of soap which looked as if it had been there some time.
The other small bedroom was full of gym equipment. He had a fleeting and uninvited vision of Stolid’s thigh bending under exertion again before banishing it quickly. He did not understand what was happening to him. It hadn’t been that long since he had had sex with a man: although he had to admit there had been very little emotional involvement there and it didn’t happen anywhere nearly often enough these days.
Still now he was spending time with his daughter and these thoughts were unwelcome and unhelpful. He didn’t even understand the image of the thigh. It was not a part that had ever obsessed him before though there was nothing displeasing about it. He blamed his thoughts on his age perhaps, on a rush of hormones he could not control.
Now he opened the door to Stolid’s bedroom. The bed was immaculately made as if Stolid was expecting to be back that evening. He tried the bedside cabinets first, wondering what he would find but there was nothing in there that would make a monk blush, nothing useful at all. He had probably packed anything personal that he needed leaving just a few books, pens, and paper. No paperwork, no obvious clues. Timonthy was beginning to wonder whether there was anything more to be found.
He looked into the wardrobes. Two of them were full and tidy: rows of suits and shirts with brightly polished shoes underneath. Johnathon’s clothes he realised as he brushed his hand against two suits he recognised. A little sprinkle of sun-lit dust drifted across his face. It was almost as though a ghost had walked into the room. He turned around half expecting Johnthon to be stood there watching him. In spite of his death: the lifeless skin of the hollow corpse, the finality of the burial and the handful of earth he had thrown on him, he had never stopped expecting Johnathon to just turn up in places he used to frequent.
He sighed and looked at the other two wardrobes. These were more sketchily filled. There was a scattering of shirts, a few suits and smart shoes: remnants of Stolid’s previous working life he imagined, thinking that he had not seen him in a suit for years.
There were no other clothes though as if Stolid had taken all of his day to day clothes with him. This was the same with the drawers. There was no underwear, socks, t-shirts: just a few jumpers. Timonthy frowned. Stolid had gone originally for a visit of a few weeks. He had travelled on a train. He thought of his own collection of clothes. There would have been no way he would have considered taking them all on such a journey. The only logical thing he could think of was that Stolid had travelled back to collect more clothes. He might even have driven back to Scotland. That would make more sense. He needed to check the garage. Strange that Stolid hadn’t told anyone he was around, if he had had the intention of moving so far away.
“How are you getting on?” Paris shouted up to him.
He made his way back downstairs.
“I haven’t found a lot,” he admitted. “How about you?”
She came out of the study looking troubled.
“What is it?”
“I’ve been on the computer,” she said and his heart sank.
“There’s something very strange happening. I’m really worried now.”
“What is it?” he said quietly.
“Well, I thought I’d quickly check my e-mail. I can’t get a signal on my phone in here and I couldn’t get the stupid thing to use the wifi. So I opened the laptop and went on the guest account. I didn’t know what Uncle Stolid’s password was. Anyway I had a quick look at my stuff, nothing of too much interest but I told Mother what we’re doing.”
He gave an involuntary sigh and asked to cover it, “So what’s bothering you?”
“I remembered that I was supposed to be looking for clues so on the off chance I looked at the internet history. I thought it would tell me what Uncle Stolid had been looking at before he went away but I forgot I was on the guest account. Anyway it took me to two days ago and an email account. I think that means that someone used this laptop to access their email two days ago. Whoever it is, though I didn’t recognise the user name, is active: lots of emails received at any rate. They mainly seemed to be order confirmations.”
“How are you getting on?” Paris shouted up to him.
He made his way back downstairs.
“I haven’t found a lot,” he admitted. “How about you?”
She came out of the study looking troubled.
“You’ve found something?”
“I’ve been on the computer,” she said and his heart sank.
“There’s something very strange happening. I’m really worried now.”
“What is it?” he said quietly.
“Well, I thought I’d quickly check my e-mail. I can’t get a signal on my phone in here and I couldn’t get the stupid thing to use the wifi. So I opened the laptop and went on the guest account. I didn’t know what Uncle Stolid’s password was. Anyway I had a quick look at my stuff, nothing of too much interest but I told Mother what we’re doing.”
He gave an involuntary sigh and asked to cover it, “So what’s bothering you?”
“I remembered that I was supposed to be looking for clues so on the off chance I looked at the internet history. I thought it would tell me what Uncle Stolid had been looking at before he went away but I forgot I was on the guest account. Anyway it took me to two days ago and an email account. I think that means that someone used this laptop to access their email two days ago. Whoever it is, though I didn’t recognise the user name, is active: lots of emails received at any rate. They mainly seemed to be order confirmations.”
Timonthy had a feeling of an ominous presence, as if there was someone else in the house. Surely there had to be a logical answer for it. Perhaps there was more than one explanation although he was struggling to find them. The only one that seemed possible to him was that Stolid did have a friend he trusted with a key, his post and his computer. Just because he did not know of it, did not mean it was impossible. Stolid was a secretive man in many ways he acknowledged. If he had formed another attachment it was quite likely he would keep it from him, even just to protect his feelings.