Introduction

The young man found himself in the sleepy town of Sunset Valley. Cold and hungry, he ventured into a shabby little bar called The Eye of Horus. The place was enveloped in darkness and the faint stench of death lingered in the air. Chairs and tables were recklessly placed all over the place; some bearing the battle scars of late night brawls. He took in the place with a sense of familiarity. It wasn’t like anything he had not seen before. He’d have his meal; find a place for the night then leave this place like he’d done countless times before.

The young man had been on the run for years. He’d often stow away on ships in a bid to be constantly on the move. He’d travelled from Budapest to Bangalore surviving on what little money he could earn by performing menial tasks for rich people with tight pockets.

He sat in a corner devouring his meal with quiet intent.

Two men approached - one old, one middle-aged.

“Phineas Roscoe Sinclair.” A gruff voice called his name. It sounded more like a command than an enquiry as to Phin’s identity.

Phin looked up at the two men, a fear bubbling in his stomach. This was it. He’d finally be done for. He made to get up and bolt for the door but with a swift motion of his hand the middle-aged man had succeeded in keeping Phin in his seat. He stared at the two strangers, unsure of what was about to come.

The old man had a kindness in his blue eyes that didn’t match the hardness on his face. He looked as if he’d endured years of suffering to the point that he’d aged ahead of his time. He didn’t speak; just listened to the discussion that was proceeding. The other man had already introduced himself but Phin had missed most of it in his attempt to figure out who the old man was.

“...lawyer...based in London...need to talk to you...”

There was an air of familiarity about him. A former disgruntled client of Phin’s handy man services coming to sue him for his few pennies?

“We’re here to discuss the will of Evelyn McKinley with you, Mr. Sinclair.” The lawyer sat directly opposite Phin.

“I don’t know who that is.” The retort escaped Phin’s mouth abruptly and without any dishonesty.

“We’re not here to discuss your relationship with her. We’re just here to deliver this to you.” The lawyer slipped an envelope to Phin. It looked weathered and had a strange crest stamped upon it in red candle wax. Phin took it in his hands, turning it this way and that as if hoping it would magically reveal its contents to him. He could feel both pairs of eyes boring into him, waiting impatiently for him to open it. He finally did.

It read:

 “As I write this will, I must declare that I have but only one worldly possession in my ownership. To Phineas Roscoe Sinclair I bequeath the estate of 15 Summer Hill Court in Sunset Valley. I hope that he will make good use of the property for which all legal work has been taken care of. My only wish for Mr. Sinclair is that he moves in immediately.”

And that was it. No further explanations, no indication as to who Evelyn McKinley was. Phineas stared at the page for a while before speaking again.

“This must be some kind of mistake.”

“This is no mistake Mr. Sinclair. Ms. McKinley had made her intentions perfectly clear: that you and only you should attain ownership of her estate. It is available immediately, as you would have read.”

The tone of the lawyer’s voice was also perfectly clear. He didn’t approve of the will but by legal obligation, and surprisingly good morals, he was bound to carry out the wishes of Evelyn.

“We’ll take your leave now young man. There are plenty of taxis that will take you to the estate.”

The old man had spoken for the first time. He stood up, signifying that it was time to leave. Phin watched them go, unanswered questions still whirling inside his head.