CHAPTER 1
Spring was bursting forth in great beauty on Kentland Farm that had been in Don ownership for eleven generations and the current owner – a grumpy attorney well-known in Boston – was the fifth Don going by the name of Smithfield. One of the many first sons bypassing the ridiculous name of Springfield had been named Donald Don, known as Don Don. He was the current landowner's late father.
Smithfield Don had a number of loves, mostly other men's wives or daughters but his most significant loves were his love of law, the love of his land and the fine horses that graced it's pastures and stables and Amelia, his daughter who reminded him almost much too much of his late wife Elizabeth, who one day unfortunately arrived home unexpectedly.
Elizabeth had found Smithfield between the legs of socialite Mrs James Benrow. Smithfield's upset wife went into her dressing room and returning with her handgun placed the barrel behind Alice Benrow's ear and killed her. With Smithfield still not reacting, she dispatched herself, covering her adulterer husband with her blood.
Amelia was fourteen, at boarding school at the time of the tragedy. She was brought home for the funeral and then sent to her aunt and uncle in Kent, England and now, ten years later and possessing a MBA, was returning home for the first time since her beloved mother's burial.
"Hello father," she said at Logan Airport. Smithfield had been studying a pretty woman in blue.
"Oh heavens, Elizabeth. How lovely to see you again," he said, taking her by the arms and kissing her just to the right of her mouth.
"It's Amelia."
"I know dear, your are my dau...oh god, I called you Elizabeth."
"Early senility daddy?"
It wouldn't go down as one of the most fascinating reunions between a father and his daughter. Amelia was appalled. She'd prepared herself to remain a little distant, to be in not hurry to bridge the gap and her tactical approach had proven unnecessary. Simply by calling her by her mother's name her father had deepened the gulf between them. That suited her fine.
"A good flight?"
"Being my first flight in ten years I have nothing to compare it with."
Smithfield did a double take, as if wondering why she was touchy.
"Boston is a great sight from the air, isn't it?"
"We approached through very low cloud that cleared at only about three hundred feet, according to what the co-pilot had said earlier.
"Oh, what a shame."
"Yes it's my home city."
"I'm glad you a back," Smithfield said kindly.
"So am I."
"And you glad to be reunited with me?"
Amelia decided to be courteous. "Not particularly."
Smithfield's mouth tightened. He offered to wheel Amelia's luggage trolley but she said no thanks. He then noticed Amelia was walking half a pace ahead of him so caught up and placed a hand on the trolley. Amelia let go of it, stepping to the side and then continuing to walk at his space. Smithfield's face appeared to be reddening.
Amelia Don felt nauseated, being so physically close to her father, although knowing she had to get used to it for a time. Smithfield had attended her graduation in London and had pestered her to come home and live with him. She baulked and he worked on his sister-in-law and husband and they persuaded Amelia to go on six month's trial. She agreed to go after completing professional examinations for registration as a financial advisor.
She now looked at the balding potbellied man she planned to kill. Only she didn't have a plan yet. She wanted a death that appeared accidental, leaving her in the clear to sell Kentland Farm with its horrible memories and to begin her own life.
Amelia's father knew virtually nothing about farming; he wasn't interested. But he knew almost everything there was to know about horses and needed a farm to stable and breed his fine line of horses and have them trained for equestrian events before on-selling them. The remainder of the 325-acre farm not required for horses was left to a manager to farm. The manager was Tom Richards. Amelia and Tom had grown up together as Tom's father Jock had been the farm manager and now lived in retirement with Tom and Lisa.
"Tom asks about you almost every day since I told him you were coming home."
At last her father had said something of interest to her.
"Ah, Tom Richards. We started at pre-school within three weeks of each other and continued through school until...until I went away."
"Yes, always a good thinker and a good worker who seems to thrive on responsibility. I have women looking after the horses and the stables. Tom is in charge of everything else. He has a penchant for dairy cattle so we breed them, keep only the females and sell them at auction as in-calf heifers. Our name for quality milkers is known far and wide."
"All because of Tom?"
"Well I am always listed as owner and I supervise of course."
"Of course."
Amelia was delighted...a plan was rushing to take basic shape in her head. She'd thought up fifty ways of killing her father and had settled on going far out to sea with him in a boat and then pushing him overboard and coming back to shore at speed to report him missing. But as soon as she thought of that she had to jettison it; her father couldn't stand small boats so almost certainly wouldn't go out with her. Her mother used to take her out in hired boats fishing, not her father.
"What breed of cattle?"
"Jersey."
Amelia smiled, unable to believe her luck. Jersey! At that point the plan began to evolve in detail.
The big black Mercedes was parked in a two-minute maximum stopping area. A traffic warden hovered, too reluctant to ticket or have towed away such an expensive vehicle associated with VIPs. As Smithfield opened the trunk by remote the warden walked away looking for some little people to squash.
"Do you want to drive?"
"No thank you. I prefer not to drive ostentatious cars."
Smithfield scowled.
The large house had been extensively renovated. Smithfield took his daughter on a tour and his bedroom was now at the opposite end on the upper floor. He pointed to the door where the murder-suicide had taken place and said, "That area is now for storage – I don't like entering it."
Hiding deep revulsion, Amelia said passively, "So you have a woman here?"
"Yes, I always have company. Ella wanted you settled in before meeting you. She is staying with her parents up in Maine."
"Is she your wife?"
"No, they are called partners."
"They?"
"Um, one at a time and usually they stay twelve to eighteen months before finally realizing what I meant that marriage was not an option with me. Ella has been here almost three months. I don't think she really likes me."
"She sounds intelligent."
Smithfield opened his mouth to retort but closed it when his daughter said smoothly, "In deciding not to be here when I arrived."
"Oh yes, a very smart gold-digger I can say with confidence."
Amelia smiled, already liking Ella better than her father although she had yet to meet the woman.
"I have a live-in cook. She will cook anything you wish. We've already eaten lunch."
Ah, a resident fuck for when darling daddy was between partners. "Thank you, a tomato and chopped bacon omelet and coffee would be nice."
"Order it yourself. She'll be waiting for you in the kitchen."
"Oh thank you daddy," Amelia answered with just the lightest of sarcasm. "Where do I sleep?"
