Eye for an Eye Read Online Free

substantial life insurance policy
several months ago, which guaranteed repayment of the mortgage and
allowed a useful working capital for the farm. Also, under the
terms of his will, you each get an individual payment of ten
thousand dollars once the balance of the estate has been dealt
with, and of course you are both joint owners of the farm. I know
this was a very important point for your father.
    Pete breathed
more easily.
    ‘Good old Dad,’
he said softly. ‘I knew he’d think of the farm first.’ He stood and
held out his hand to the lawyer. ‘Thanks for that - I guess you’ll
be in touch with anything else we have to do, papers to sign,
whatever?’
    ‘Hold on Pete,’
Robyn cut in, putting a gentle hand on his arm. ‘There’s something
more I want to know here.’ She turned to the lawyer. ‘You’re saying
that the money was lost, but the life insurance paid up and we’re
OK, right?’ He nodded. ‘So what happened to the money that Dad gave
this investor guy in Wellington. Can’t we get it back? Where
exactly did it go?’
    The lawyer
leaned back in his seat.
    ‘I haven’t been
able to find out yet. This investment broker Colwyn Symons seems to
be a rather slippery character who has a number of clients looking
for him - and I suspect that even if he’s located, his affairs will
be tied up in court for some years. Apparently yours are not the
only funds to have been, ah, mis-invested, shall we say?’
    ‘When you say
"mis-invested", do you mean stolen?’
    ‘Let’s say that
the possibility is there, but it will take some considerable time
to unravel the complexities of the transactions made in each
individual case.’
    ‘And are we
likely to see any of that money again?’
    He spread his
hands and smiled sadly. ‘Most unlikely, I’m afraid.’
     
    Back at the
farm, Robyn and Pete spent the next few days going through their
father’s papers and sorting out his effects for disposal. They
spread out all the paperwork on the oak dining table and sat one at
each end. Low winter sun angled through the windows catching dust
motes as the pages were shuffled and turned.
    ‘Jeez, this is
even worse than sorting through Mum’s stuff. At least she had time
to put most of her affairs in order before she had to go into
hospital.’ Pete pushed a stack of papers away and sighed. ‘Why do
we accumulate so much junk in our lives, Rob? I reckon I’ll have a
big bonfire when I’m sixty and start all over again with just the
stuff I really need. Then you won’t have to do this for me.’ He
smiled weakly, pointing at the pile he still had to sort.
    Robyn decided
he needed cheering up. She went on the offensive as only a sister
could.
    ‘Good on yer,
mate – and while you’re at it, would you please burn all those
ghastly old clothes of yours too? I wouldn’t want to be seen
dropping them in the charity clothing bin.’
    Pete threw a
scrunched-up envelope at her and smiled.
    ‘You’re still a
brat, aren’t you? You were just as obnoxious as a kid. Look at this
photo, remember this?’ He held out a picture of Robyn as a
grim-faced child holding a very dead seagull.
    ‘Oops, yes, I
remember. I hit it in the head with my catapult after it had
attacked Blackie. Wasn’t a bad shot, was it?’
    ‘Well it
definitely didn’t peck any more lambs’ eyes, I’ll grant you
that.’
    ‘Didn’t help
poor Blackie though, did it? It was rotten for Dad, having to put
him down. He couldn’t face me for a week.’ She handed back the
photo. ‘Got any more snaps there?’
    ‘Yeah, check
out Dad’s old passports, they’ve got photos in going back to the
year dot.’
    Robyn flicked
through them, seeing the small black and white photographs age
decade by decade from the stiff self-conscious pose of youth, to
the lean, lined face of a man who’d worked the land for a lifetime.
The tan lines across the forehead marked him as an outdoors man
used to wearing a hat, but the crinkles at the corner of his eyes
were