Chambers nodded sulkily.
‘Excellent,’ Solomon said. There was some finality in his tone, as if the subject was now closed.
Chambers didn’t read it. ‘You still haven’t told us why Charlie’s coming.’
Solomon sent Leon Chambers a warning look, a thorough ten-second glare that chilled the room. His tone was barely a whisper. ‘I can invite whomever I choose into my own home. Problem?’
‘I’m not sure I trust Charlie.’
‘I’m certain I don’t care.’
There was a full minute of absolute stillness. No one dared speak. Solomon drank the silence. It was cold and refreshing. Eventually his eyes returned to his cards and concentration etched itself onto his features. ‘Golden, as they say, silence. Isn’t it? Maybe in a world of noise, it’s become a precious commodity, hence the analogy.’
Solomon’s phone lit up on the table. He carefully picked it up. Nobody moved. ‘Well, Leon, looks like you managed to make some money out of me tonight. Congratulations. So, my surprise for the evening is that Charlie’s brought some female company.’ Everyone exchanged glances. Carter shuffled restlessly in his chair. Solomon chuckled to himself. ‘Relax, would you? Like I said, tonight’s on me. Recent events have made everyone a little tense. It’s going to be a while before things settle to normal and I thought we could do with loosening up a bit. Business is over. I’ll go and let them in.’
The atmosphere thawed. Leon Chambers was the last to stand up. Beresford and Carter headed eagerly for the door. Solomon moved ahead and unlocked it and allowed them entrance to the sitting room. Chambers dawdled and unfastened his shirt at the neck and wiped his forehead.
‘Come on, Leon. It’ll soon be over. What’re a few months between friends?’
‘You try it.’
‘But that’s what friends are for.’
‘Is that what we are?’
Solomon smiled. ‘We’re more than friends. We’re brothers.’
‘No secrets, then?’
‘Why would we need them?’
‘What’s happened to this missing guy?’
‘What missing guy?’
‘Simon Wilde.’
‘Who?’
‘The guy who’s been on the news this week,’ Chambers persisted. ‘Where is he?’
‘You’re asking the wrong person. He was last seen heading for Nathan’s place.’ Solomon reached out and gently clasped the back of Chambers’ neck in his right hand. It was so thick, it filled his hand. ‘Leon, Simon Wilde has nothing to do with us. He’s Lorie’s ex-boyfriend, a very nice chap as I understand it, but none of our concern. I’m sure he’ll show up eventually.’
Chambers pulled free of Solomon’s grip and exited the door. ‘I’m sure he will.’
<><><>
Beyond the point of agitation, Camilla followed Henry upstairs. Her mood meant that she raced through the night-time routine and beat Henry to bed. She sat propped up by three pillows waiting to offload, while Henry took an age to climb into his pyjamas, brush and floss his teeth, and religiously squirt some pointless gel at his bald crown which was supposed to stimulate growth. But didn’t.
She sighed with the kind of exasperation that was total, utter and complete.
How many times had he proudly presented the same hairless patch to her, convinced it was getting smaller? How many times had she assured him it was no different? He’d now been in the bathroom nine minutes polishing his teeth and trying to coax hair growth when the family was in a mess.
She sighed again, louder, and Henry emerged from the en suite and began to remove his watch and glasses.
Words and phrases were circuiting Camilla’s head. They spilled out.
‘Don’t you think Naomi’s changed beyond recognition? What’s the matter with her?’
Henry crashed into bed. ‘She just wants some space, Camilla.’
‘How much space?’
‘She’ll talk to us when she’s ready.’
‘You said that hours ago.’
‘It still applies.’
‘It’s ridiculous. I don’t know what’s happened to her. The way she embarrassed us by slinging us out of the room in front of those two officers today. I wanted them to know that we’re a close family. Naomi blew that notion in one sentence.’
‘It doesn’t matter what anybody thinks, it only matters that Naomi feels respected.’
‘But the police talk to the press. Our business is our business. I don’t want any information about our family being transferred to that lot.’
‘The police will respect our privacy, Camilla. They came to do their job. They’re not press-spies.’
‘And what did they ask? is what I want to know. Both girls have clammed up since the police left. I want to know what’s going on.’
Henry shifted onto his side to face Camilla. ‘Naomi will fill us in when she’s ready.’
‘And where did she disappear to today, in Annabel’s car?’
‘Does it matter?’
Yes, it matters, she yelled in her head. Camilla looked at the room and not at Henry, and expelled her breath in a fit of frustration. He wasn’t a mother; had no hope of understanding. ‘I don’t like it. The girls have teamed up. We have a right to know what’s been said in our home.’
‘Actually, we don’t. Naomi has a right to privacy, even from us.’
She looked at him now. Full on. Eyes blazing. ‘Whose side are you on?’
Henry reached out and placed a podgy hand on her arm. It was hot, slightly clammy. ‘Come on, that’s not fair.’
Camilla jerked free, turned her back on Henry, angrily plumped her pillows and dropped down heavily on one side. She reached out and flicked off the lamp. Her mind fired thoughts and ideas like racing cars on a track, moving too quickly to properly observe. They were noisy and out of control.
‘Annabel has a boyfriend,’ she blurted randomly, surprised to hear her own voice.
‘Joel?’ Henry mumbled.
Camilla stiffened. ‘You know about him?’
‘Of course. I was in touch regularly when she was in Japan. Joel is old news.’
‘Not to me. Did no one think to mention it?’ Not really a question.
‘You didn’t like me talking about Annabel,’ Henry reminded her. ‘I thought she’d have mentioned it herself.’
‘Well, she hasn’t,’ Camilla said with some force.
‘Well, you know now.’ Another infuriating arm-pat.
Henry’s tone – reasonable and non-aggressive – wound her up. It made her want to keep firing shots at him until he squared up.
‘I’m an outsider in my own home.’
‘That’s not true.’ He tried a hand on her again. Mistake. She pulled free then lay still. Silence stretched until she wondered if Henry had drifted. Until, ‘Thing is, Camilla, it isn’t easy for us to be open with you.’
Us? What, the whole family lumped together on an opposing side? Her lips squeezed together in the dark room. She twisted round to fix her glare on the featureless mound behind her. ‘Meaning?’
‘You see?’
‘What do you mean, “you see”?’
The response was slow in coming. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
Camilla was tense and silent. Waiting.
‘I’m sorry,’ Henry whispered, but proved that he wasn’t by slipping into sleep seconds later.
Had it only been days since everything in her world had healed? Things were already unpicking at the seams. Something was terribly wrong. Camilla could feel it. Taste it. Almost touch it. It was a kind of darkness, a silent threat that was screaming at her on a calm night. And as usual, the useless, snoring lump to her left – elated with joy that his Rolls-Royce had finally come home to Daddy – could sense nothing at all.
<><><>
Henry woke up and quietly checked the time. It was just after one-thirty in the morning. He tuned in to Camilla. She was in her preferred sleeping position, with her back to him, one arm jammed under her pillow
. He noted the slow, rhythmic breathing and was convinced she wasn’t conscious.
He took time to slide out of bed and straighten up. She didn’t move. He walked to the bathroom and unhooked a knee-length robe from behind the door and put it on. Camilla snoozed on.
Henry let himself out of the bedroom and sneaked downstairs and headed for his little study next to the piano room. He closed the door and found the light switch. In between two long windows was a locked filing cabinet full of old accounts and valuable documents and general odds and ends. In the bottom drawer was a brown envelope with ten thousand pounds in cash which the police had brought from Lorie’s flat.
He reached behind a picture next to the light switch and withdrew a key from a tiny nail. He walked over to the filing cabinet, opened the bottom drawer and counted the money for the first time, note for note. Exactly ten thousand in ten neat bundles. Puzzled, he replaced the money in the envelope and returned it to the drawer. If Lorie had plotted to rob him, how had she managed to prepare ten thousand in cash, labelled and sealed in an envelope at her flat? And all this while she was in custody. It contradicted every jot of Naomi’s story.
Why had the police returned to ask questions? What kind of an employee was Lorie Taylor? Bear in mind she hadn’t been home since her arrest. The appearance of the money was a mystery. Ten thousand in cash. Why would she give it to you in cash? An excellent question. But the interrogation had wrapped up quickly once Naomi returned. Why? Because the real reason for the visit was to quiz Naomi.
Henry sat at his desk and rubbed his face with both hands. Naomi hadn’t wanted him there, him or Camilla. There was a look in DC Watt’s eyes which hadn’t been there on the first visit. If Henry had had to select one word to best describe that look, he’d have reluctantly come up with this: suspicion. They suspected Naomi? Of what? Naomi had said nothing after the visit, just hidden away the rest of the day.
From the desk beside his laptop, there was a vibration from his mobile phone. Dragged from thought, he picked it up. It was an email which turned out to be a Facebook notification. Since Annabel’s return home, he’d had no need for Facebook. He had an unimpressive number of friends. Nine in all. It was a private message from Lorie. Wasn’t Lorie in custody? He hesitated, not sure what to do.
Curiosity won of course. He opened it and struggled with the small screen and lack of reading glasses. In the end he put his phone down and booted up his laptop and signed in to his Facebook account, the one that Camilla knew nothing about. He opened his message. It was short.
Hi Henry. I know things are a mess and I’m sorry. The police have been questioning me. I instructed DC Watt to give you the money I owe. I meant to give it to you before the wedding, but things were hectic. I actually planned to take you and Camilla for a meal to say thank you properly. Anyway, I prepared it in cash in case you preferred it that way. You always used to talk about ‘tax purposes’ and I never understood. But anyway, I hope things resolve soon for all of us. Please can you confirm you got the money?
Lorie
Henry sat still for a very long time, head buzzing with questions. A few answers trickled in. These: Lorie was free, which meant that Nathan might be free too; Lorie was acting like her old self – no apology for what she was supposed to have done, only an apology that ‘things were a mess’. It could only equal one thing. Lorie was pleading innocent and the police were casting a suspicious eye on Naomi. Oh hell!
The screen had gone to sleep by itself when Henry bothered to notice it again. He woke it up, clicked the reply button and, after a lot of thought, answered in four words:
Message and money received.
He hovered over the H key, then decided not to add his name. It felt too personal. Too cosy. Too far. He sent the message and immediately regretted it. How would he ever explain to family that he’d been in touch with Lorie? He’d never tell anyone. Chances were she’d never get in touch with him again anyway. Should he delete her from his contacts? Unfriend her? No, he wouldn’t do anything. If she got in touch again, he wouldn’t respond. Correspondence closed.
Henry shut down his laptop and as he stole back to bed, noticed an outline of light framing Naomi’s bedroom door. He stopped, stared, wondered, and decided not. She’d open up when she was willing, not before. Henry returned to bed, too troubled to be tired. It was a couple of long hours before he found sleep again.
10
The car nosed into a tight spot in the police station car park. Annabel cut the engine and looked at Naomi.
‘Ready?’
‘No.’ Naomi met Annabel’s steady gaze. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. Couldn’t stop . . . thinking. Mum wouldn’t even look at me this morning. What planet is she even on?’
Annabel slid one hand into Naomi’s. ‘She’s worried.’
‘I’m trying to give her nothing to worry about. That’s what I’ve done my entire life. I’m trying to protect her from what’s happening right now.’
‘That’s why she’s worried,’ Annabel said gently. ‘Because she’s in the dark. She suspects something isn’t right.’
‘Well, ignoring me is hardly the best way of dealing with it. It doesn’t exactly invite me to be open with her.’ Naomi glanced out of the window. ‘She’s impossible.’
‘I know.’ Annabel removed her hand and started to unlatch her seatbelt. ‘Look, worry about Mum later. You need to get your thoughts straightened.’
‘I can’t believe Nathan’s trying to twist the blame onto me and Dan. We didn’t prepare for this. I can’t imagine how Dan’s coping. I know I looked like an idiot yesterday. I looked guilty. I felt it, even.’
A long pause. ‘And are you?’
Naomi twisted her neck and snapped, ‘Course I’m not.’
‘Good. Go and tell them. Yesterday you were like a sheep off to the slaughterhouse.’
‘I was in shock.’
‘That’s what Nathan was banking on, but today you need to fight. But calmly and intelligently.’
She shook her head. ‘Nathan’s so convincing.’
‘He never convinced me, or your mate, Siobhan. Or Mum.’
In response, Naomi heaved out a sigh. ‘True.’
‘So . . . don’t focus on Nathan or Lorie. Focus on the truth. Nathan and Lorie are lying. They’ll slip up soon enough. The police will find some evidence.’
Naomi drew a deep breath. ‘You think?’
‘They have to. Clear your head – of Mum, Nathan, Lorie, even Dan.’
Naomi nodded. ‘I’m so nervous. It’s stupid.’
‘Are you guilty?’ Annabel asked again.
Naomi said, firmly and calmly, ‘No, I’m innocent.’
‘Do you want to prove it?’
‘Yes.’
Annabel unclipped Naomi’s belt. ‘Let’s go then.’
‘I hope Des Watt isn’t there. Can’t stand the guy.’
‘Me neither, he’s a minger. Those flaky shoulders!’
‘I can handle that. It’s the bone crushing I can’t deal with.’
They climbed out of the car. Annabel walked round to collect Naomi, who was standing still. ‘So give as good as you get and crush his bones right back.’ They walked a few synchronised spaces. ‘And failing that, you crush his b –’
‘Got it!’
<><><>
‘Are you sure there’s no part of your statement you want to revise?’
Dan glared at Watt in his slightly-too-big navy suit and cream shirt with the button undone at the throat and tufts of hair poking out.
‘Not a sentence of it.’
‘Have it your way.’
Dan scraped his chair back and stood up. His vision left him for a count of three. He steadied himself by touching the table with his fingertips until Watt shaped up again. No way would he admit how knackered he was, or how completely drained he felt.
‘Can I go?’
‘I can’t stop you. I have to inform you that we released Nathan and Lorie yesterday.’
Dan curled his right hand into a fist and thumped down hard on the table. ‘What?’
‘Calm down, Mr Stone. You won’t have heard the last from us, any of you. There’s a serious lack of evidence at the moment. Because of the nature of the case, witnesses have been very difficult to find and interview. Someone is lying. Not just a pack of lies, but a whole stack of them, ten feet tall. I intend to find out who.’
‘Be my guest.’
‘Files will be passed to the Criminal Justice Unit. They prepare the files for the Crime Prosecution Service. In the meantime, don’t rest, Dan. You’ll be required to come into the station once a week to answer bail. You’ll sign on every visit. A whiff of trouble or any new evidence that comes to light and you’ll be back here before your feet can touch the ground. Make no plans to travel.’
‘You really can’t see what’s going on here, can you?’ Dan’s voice shook. With exhaustion? Anger? He couldn’t tell.
‘You try being in my position. From where I’m sitting, your brother is more reasonable, more together. And quite frankly, his story is more plausible.’
‘I’m going home,’ Dan said, shaking his head, making a dash for the door before he gave in to the temptation to slam a fist into Des Watt’s teeth. ‘Where are my keys, my phone?’
‘With the desk sergeant. Sign out and collect your valuables. I’ll see you very soon.’
Dan wasn’t listening. The word keys had nudged thoughts and images of the flat – the home he shared with Nathan. Free Nathan. The Nathan who’d been released yesterday and had slept in a comfortable bed while Dan had examined the ceiling all night in a chilled hell-hole with only one blanket. Would Nathan really have gone back to the flat?
Course he would.
The Darkness Visible (The Midnight Saga Book 2) Page 9
