Blood Money (chapters thirty five, thirty six, thirty seven and epilogue.) (standard:Suspense, 4247 words) [18/18] show all parts
Author: Hulsey	Added: Oct 06 2011	Views/Reads: 2206/1615	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Continued.

35 

One month had passed since Pauline had made her proposal to O'Hara. She
had, over the following weeks withdrew large quantities of money from 
her account. For obvious reasons, her brother could not accept a cheque 
or a transfer, and it was for this reason that she had in the boot of 
her brand new BMW, half a million pounds. 

For the last ten minutes, she had not set her eyes on another human
being. She followed the confusing, unintelligible signposts of West 
Wales, guiding her to Dolgoch, Carmarthenshire. She drove slowly, 
occasionally glancing at the directions that Dean had jotted down. 

The sun made a welcome appearance from behind the cluster of clouds,
radiating the lush, serene surroundings. She now realised why her 
brother had opted for the anonymity of this area, a location to suit 
his purposes. 

A large, weather-beaten sign, reading Valley Farm heralded her arrival.
She manoeuvred her car across a stone bridge and followed the secluded 
road towards the farm. The flock of sheep ignored their visitor and 
grazed peacefully. 

The farm was situated in a wooded, picturesque valley where two rivers
met. A row of oak, beech and ash trees lined the path on the approach 
to the farmhouse. 

Schofield, on hearing the approach of a vehicle, reached for his shotgun
and watched from the safety of the barn hayloft. The BMW came to a 
halt, and satisfied that his sister was alone, Schofield descended the 
ladder. He greeted her with a broad smile. 

“Have a nice journey?” 

Pauline looked like a movie star; her designer sunglasses and smart
clothes showing off her new found wealth. 

“Is the shotgun necessary?” she moaned, kissing her brother on the
cheek. 

“Security, sis, security.” 

Pauline grimaced when she set her eyes on the shabby farmhouse. “You
live in that hovel?” 

“It needs a little work, but I got it real cheap.” 

The one storey farmhouse was devoid of paint, and overgrown ivy covered
its dour walls. The windows were covered in a film of dust and the roof 
was in serious need of repair. 

“A bit of work? That's an understatement if ever I heard one.” 

Schofield leant his weapon against the car, placed his hands on his hips
and proudly surveyed his new home. “The old man who lived here accepted 
two hundred grand. His daughter actually persuaded him to sell and he's 
now living with her. Of course, the deal was done confidentially and 
without paperwork... Sis, here nobody cares who I am. In fact, the 
nearest neighbour lives two miles away.” 

Pauline looked unimpressed. “I bet the daughter was delighted... You've
been robbed, Dean Schofield.” 

“You think so? Granted, it'll take a bit of work, but it has potential.
Look, I even have my own well.” 

Pauline cautiously peeked into the abyss. “You drink from this?” 

“Of course. I even generate my own electricity. This place is so
secluded; no authorities, no nosy tourists... Do you know, this place 
was once a mansion in the Middle Ages? Minstrels, poets and 
entertainers used to travel from afar to perform here.” 

“Less of the history lesson, Dean, I need a cup of tea.” 



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