Predestined for Trouble

William Heinrich

Description

Predestined for Trouble is the story of crime fiction writer Gregory Carlson and his close-knit circle of friends dubbed the Justice Syndicate. An unexpected legacy coincides with the re-investigation of a fifteen-year-old unsolved murder, threatening the lives and challenging the faith of the Justice Syndicate’s members.

Sujets

• Crime
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris AU
• Date de parution: 19 juin 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781503506053
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

PREDESTINED FOR TROUBLE
 
 
 
 
A Novel
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
William Heinrich
 
COPYRIGHT © 2015 BY WILLIAM HEINRICH.
ISBN:
HARDCOVER
978-1-5035-0604-6

SOFTCOVER
978-1-5035-0603-9

EBOOK
978-1-5035-0605-3
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner except for brief quotations to books or critical reviews.
 
This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. It would be a mistake for anyone to consider the structures and practices of the organizations described in this story as accurately portraying The NSW Police Force, the NSW Coroner’s Office or New Scotland Yard. Moreover the Dukedom of Exalter and the Earldom of Lambsdon exist only in the author’s imagination.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
 
 
 
Rev. date: 10/21/2022
 
 
 
Xlibris
AU TFN: 1 800 844 927 (Toll Free inside Australia)
AU Local: [phone] ([phone] from outside Australia)
www.Xlibris.com.au
650816
CONTENTS
Chapter 1 :      Trouble Comes in Different Guises: Greg, Jacob, & Paddy
Chapter 2 :      Coming to Grips with a New Identity
Chapter 3 :      Paddy Investigates the Autopsy, Amongst other things
Chapter 4 :      Exalter Enterprises Australia, Pty Ltd
Chapter 5 :      Amanda Quinn and the Manor House—Wednesday 23 February, p.m.
Chapter 6 :      Beecroft, Wednesday p.m.
Chapter 7 :      Thursday Morning
Chapter 8 :      New Duke Feeling his Way
Chapter 9 :      Paddy on the Trail
Chapter 10 :    Exploring the Manor House
Chapter 11 :    Friday, 25 February 2011
Chapter 12 :    Tom Drummond in Goulburn
Chapter 13 :    The Justice Syndicate Meets
Chapter 14 :    Paddy & Mindy Reflect on the Evening
Chapter 15 :    Off to the UK
Chapter 16 :    Different Time Zones
Chapter 17 :    2 March to Saturday 5 March
Chapter 18 :    Return to Sydney
Chapter 19 :    Arrested—Tuesday 8 March 2011
Chapter 20 :    Gaol
Chapter 21 :    The Justice Syndicate Gathers
Chapter 22 :    Paddy and Mindy Stop for a Chat
Chapter 23 :    Tested by Fire
Chapter 24 :    Paddy visits Goulburn
Chapter 25 :    Greg’s Week 13-18 March, 2011
Chapter 26 :    Yass
Chapter 27 :    The Justice Syndicate Meets Again
Chapter 1
TROUBLE COMES IN DIFFERENT GUISES: GREG, JACOB, & PADDY
Pre-Birthday Surprise
When he woke Tuesday 22 February 2011, Greg Carlson would have described himself as a moderately successful crime novelist and amateur sleuth with an otherwise unremarkable life story. His latest book cover boasted twelve novels and six true-crime books; a hand in helping his good friend, renowned criminologist Jacob Goldsworthy, solve a number of baffling crimes; guest-lecturing in English literature courses at various Sydney universities; marriage to prominent academic Margaret Scott-Tomkins; plus current ownership of one dog and one cat. Not mentioned on his book covers were a failed first marriage (no children, thank God) and a three-year period during the 1990s he had spent considerable effort trying to forget. But that night, as Greg Carlson lay in bed trying to reconcile the events of that day with his previous self-image, he was no longer sure who he was.
Greg had begun the day following his usual routine. He rose well before dawn, and was soon in his study where he spent nearly two hours meditating, reading, writing, and planning his day. At six-thirty he showered and dressed, and at six-fifty he woke Margaret, then fixed breakfast while she prepared for work. At a quarter to eight, Margaret appeared in the kitchen. They ate with a minimum of conversation; he saw her off to work; he fed the dog and the cat.
Then his carefully planned day took a wildly implausible turn, and for days and weeks following, Greg had trouble not only understanding what was happening to him, but more importantly, working out who he really was and what he most wanted to be for the remainder of his life. These questions were thrust upon him early that Tuesday morning when two business types in pinstriped dark-blue suits introduced themselves at his front door as London-based lawyers representing the estate of the late Duke of Exalter and Earl of Lambsdon. They announced that if he was Gregory Thomas Charles Geraldson Carlson, then he was the sole heir and beneficiary of his late uncle Gregory Francis Evelyn Gilpin. From that moment the self-image Greg had developed over sixty-nine years needed a major rethink. It would take days, weeks, months even, for him to wake in the morning and not feel he was in the middle of a dream, one that had many of the qualities of a nightmare.
Greg had never heard of Gregory Gilpin, had never even known he had an uncle. The word surprise covers a mix of emotions, all of which Greg was sure he was now experiencing simultaneously. Nevertheless, he was able to think clearly enough to want to hear more about an unheard-of uncle, especially if the news included an inheritance. At the same time, this news raised an ever-ready warning flag in the crime-writer-trained portion of his mind. These perfectly groomed and apparently English university-educated visitors were beginning to sound like Internet scammers who had come directly to his front door through a digital teleport from Sub-Saharan Africa. He checked himself momentarily to keep his imagination on a leash; after all, he had seen the teal-green Bentley convertible parked in his drive. That didn’t exactly throw off third-world vibes.
He did know his surname at birth had not been Carlson, but Geraldson. His British father had died before Greg was born and his American mother later married an Australian serving in the US Army Air Forces. Captain Andrew Carlson was the only father Greg had known, and he never wondered much about the man whose name was on the faded copy of his American birth certificate. Andy Carlson had adopted Greg as a toddler and had his son’s surname changed. Later when he had moved his young family to Sydney, he had successfully applied for Australian citizenship for his young son. That much he knew, but his mother had never told him much about his birth father’s background, other than that he had come to America in 1940 from somewhere in England after being wounded in the Battle of Britain.
When in his teens his curiosity rose after Andy Carlosn died, his mother had explained that her efforts to trace the Geraldson family had proved futile. All records apparently had been destroyed by the impact of bombs upon a county registry and nearby parish church. With no written record, Greg’s paternal ancestry had been consigned to an oral history so vague that it had been all but forgotten by the time he had begun to ponder his place in the world. In fact, his birth father had never lived to see the birth of his son, and Greg grew up with an Australian dad and an American mom without giving the matter of direct family links to England much thought.
Tomorrow’s looming birthday, however, had been recently causing Greg to think more about what the various parts and pieces of his life would add up to. In this frame of mind, Greg reckoned if any close relatives had survived those bombings, that could change his history, and he wanted to know about them. The question was: could these strange escapees from a tea party really hold a key to his bloodlines?
The self-proclaimed lawyers explained that an extensive search had been unable to discover any other surviving members of the ducal family. He was the only one left, and now since the duke’s death three months earlier, he was legally the sole heir of His Lordship, Gregory Francis Evelyn Gilpin, Sixteenth Duke of Exalter and Eighth Earl of Lambsdon.
“Are you telling me I had an uncle who was an English duke?” Greg was feeling slightly numb.
“Oh yes, a duke, and an earl, and he has left you a very wealthy man.”
“What do you mean by ‘wealthy’?”
“Our best figures value the inheritance at somewhere between £18 and 21 billion,” the senior lawyer answered in a slightly lowered voice.
Greg felt faint. Had he not already been sitting, he might have collapsed. The enormity and totally unexpected nature of the inheritance overwhelmed him. His mind reeled against it; he felt physically dizzy, and he could not begin to take it in. Some area of his subconscious, however, recorded the curious fact that these lawyers were vague about the total amount, and £3 billion was a vagueness worth investigating. At this particular moment, though, Greg Carlson was too busy trying to deal with the thought of £18 billion to worry much about the possibility of £3 billion more. Greg was not innumerate about money; he had just never had to deal with more than a few thousand dollars at a time. The thought of billions sent his thoughts caroming off the inner rails of his cranium like pool balls after a forceful break. He was sure some of his little round coloured neurons must have jumped the table.
Out of a haze he asked his guests if they would like a drink. In uniso