High listeners, I'm Ashley Flowers and I have a story I want to tell you.

A story about a quiet conspiracy and an inheritance marked in blood.

So gather around and listen close.

Much like the details of John's life, the cause and manner of his grandfather's death

had been a matter of much secrecy and speculation.

Rumors had sprouted and cast their seeds like weeds until all whispers of truth were washed

away in a flood of conjecture.

The executors of his estate had glided in, liquidating assets, settling debts, and perhaps

most importantly, buying privacy.

Many of those involved were suspected of taking bribes.

Neighbors of the local coroner watched from their bay windows with perched lips as construction

began on his home extension.

When the sheriff's daughter wrote off on her first day of private school, it was accompanied

by many raised eyebrows and side-long glances.

Nevertheless, secrets remained as the old man's fortune was picked clean to the bone and left

to bleach in the sun.

When the dust settled, all that remained was a massive, unoccupied estate on the woodland

edge of Cops Hill.

Passerbyes took note over months as its fore-law and fore-salesign slowly faded.

When John thought of his grandfather, feelings of anger and resentment burned in his brain,

he had no relationship with him nor did he have the opportunity to share in his opulent

lifestyle.

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