An Old Score

by Edie Baylis

  Jonah nodded. ‘Look into it. Find which estate agents are marketing them and check the guy out. There may be more to it – he could be her bit on the side, but either way, he’ll be our next port of call.’

  Jonah topped up his glass, noticing both Keith and Nero staring in his direction. ‘What are you waiting for?’ he barked.

  As his two best men left, Jonah scowled. He must get a handle on himself. Taking his personal issues out on them wasn’t his style and he was edging precariously near to doing just that. And that was not a road he wanted to go down.

  He ran his hand through his dark hair and willed his jagged pulse rate to settle. Only the tapping at the office door made him remember that he’d also got a catch-up meeting with Gwen.

  Eighteen

  GWEN COULD READ MORE than ever that something was eating at Jonah and she’d hazard a guess what it was regarding. She had no right to intrude on his personal life, but she’d been more surprised than anyone to receive an invitation to his engagement bash.

  Jonah hadn’t mentioned anything and that hurt more than she cared to admit, but even that didn’t bother her anywhere near as much as the nagging doubt where that woman was concerned.

  Lena Taylor was poison and would ruin Jonah’s life. She didn’t know how, but knew it all the same. She had to make him see that this was not a good idea – she owed that to his mother at the very least. But how could she get Jonah to see sense? It was his personal business, after all.

  Gwen nibbled at the inside of her cheek. Whatever happened, she had to make sure she was around for him when the conniving little cow showed her true colours. She’d then pick up the pieces of his broken heart like his mother would have done.

  If only Jonah had fallen in love with a girl worthy of him, rather than Lena. The woman was a gold-digger if she’d ever seen one.

  Sitting in silence in Jonah’s plush office, Gwen couldn’t help but notice the fresh worry lines on his ruggedly handsome face. She was loathe to add to his problems, but she had to press for Lena’s repeat interference at the club to be dealt with.

  Gwen had also seen Nero and Keith faces as they’d left the office. Nero’s expression was thunderous and Keith’s – well, Keith looked the same, just slightly more deranged than usual. Something was afoot and although she didn’t quite know how to broach it, she knew she must.

  The question was, how did she do it without insulting the man, or upset the apple cart even more than it already seemed to be?

  Either way, she had no choice but to attempt it in the best way she saw fit. Deciding she may as well cut straight to the chase, Gwen placed her hands on the table to draw Jonah’s attention. ‘She’s at it again.’

  Jonah’s piercing blue eyes focused on Gwen, suddenly coming fully to the moment. ‘Who?’ Even though he knew immediately who she was referring to, he hoped he was wrong.

  Gwen sighed. ‘Lena. She’s upset the girls I reinstated again. She won’t stop interfering, Jonah. She told them you’d said they needed to lose weight otherwise they were out.’

  Jonah sighed loudly to mask his teeth grinding. Christ, this was all so... all so difficult.

  He cracked his knuckles. For the first time in his life he felt impotent, plus things were running far too slowly where Dulcie Adams was concerned.

  Jonah’s brow furrowed deeper and wondered whether the rest of the firm believed the whole Dulcie Adams thing should have been written off by now and that too much time had passed to warrant the manpower. But not for him. He’d never let it go. He'd seen what it had done to his father and for that reason and that reason alone, he’d see it through. He wouldn’t let what Pointer had done drop until he had retrieved what had been taken back to where it belonged. With the Powell family.

  That’s probably where his own issue of trust came from – he trusted no one. As his father had proved, even the ones you thought you could trust betrayed you in the end. It wasn’t about the worth. It had never been about that. It was the principle. Principles were important.

  Putting an end to this was, for the first time in decades, within his grasp, yet with each minute that passed he felt the chance was slipping through his fingertips like sand.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Gwen asked. She’d sat waiting for Jonah’s response for several minutes, yet he’d remained silent, his eyes glazed and his mind clearly elsewhere. In all truth she was worried. He was acting out of sorts – something she’d never seen him do before. Whatever was bothering him was a lot more complicated than whatever Lena Taylor was doing with the club staff and dancing rota.

  She studied Jonah’s face; his chiselled jaw set like stone, a nerve in his neck twitching. Reaching over the desk, Gwen lightly touched his hand. ‘Jonah?’

  Jerking forward, Jonah blinked. Out of all of the people around him, Gwen was the one he trusted most. ‘I’ll speak with Lena again tonight, ok?’ he muttered.

  ‘I’m sorry to load more pressure on you, love. I can see you’ve got lots on your mind,’ Gwen said softly. ‘I’m happy to speak to Lena myself, but I didn’t want to do that without speaking to you first. I mean she’s your fiancée... and it’s awkward what with that connection and...’

  ‘Regardless of whatever Lena is to me, you know you have my backing to do whatever’s needed to ensure the club remains running well,’ Jonah said, his anger growing.

  Fiancé. The word made Jonah feel ill. Just the thought of being stuck with Lena for the rest of time put him in the worst mood ever. But what could he do about it? Fuck all, that’s what.

  He could sort drug shipments, gun running and dole out violence to match no other, but he couldn’t sling out the mother of his unborn child, no matter how much he wanted to.

  Even with what had happened to his mother, he’d always wanted a family of his own, but Lena wasn’t wife material – she was a good time girl and lately she didn’t even warrant being a decent shag. Now, because of his stupidity, she was about to become his bloody wife.

  Jonah forced a smile. ‘Lena is not to use that we’re... that we’re getting married as an excuse to throw her weight around. You have my full authority to pull her up if she steps out of line, but like I said, I’ll speak to her again tonight.’

  Gwen nodded. ‘I don’t think she’ll appreciate me saying anything to her ab...’

  ‘I don’t give a fuck what she appreciates!’ Jonah snarled. How he wished he could tell Gwen how he really felt about Lena, but he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. She’d think badly of him for wanting out, especially when she found out that Lena was carrying his child. Out of all the people he was surrounded by, Gwen Vella was the only one whom it would bother him if she thought badly of him.

  ‘Is everything ok? I mean, really?’ Gwen could see Jonah was holding back.

  Jonah refilled his whisky and held the bottle out to Gwen, replacing it on his desk when she shook her head. ‘Everything’s fine,’ he lied, his expression neutral. ‘Just hectic.’

  Gwen inclined her head slightly. She recognised that expression – his father did exactly the same when he didn’t want to discuss something. ‘I saw Nero and Keith on the way down. They looked stressed.’

  Jonah studied Gwen. ‘Do you remember the Pointer incident?’

  Gwen nodded. ‘Who doesn’t?’ Jacky had told her all about it more than once. She could clearly picture his face – the way it turned crimson with rage each time he spoke about the subject.

  ‘We’ve located Pointer’s mistress...’ Jonah decided he might as well fill Gwen in with these details at least. She wouldn’t speak of it to anyone else, he knew that much.

  Gwen raised her eyebrows. ‘What? How?’

  ‘Long story and I might add, a total fluke. I’ve put tabs out to see if she has the stash, but it’s easier said than done and it’s running too slowly for my liking.’

  ‘Hmm, not feasible to use the standard methods, I don’t expect?’ Gwen mused. She may be only the floor manager for the show, but she knew a damn sight more of what re
ally went on in his firm than she ever got credit for. ‘Civilian territory, right?’

  Seeing Jonah’s surprise, Gwen laughed. ‘Your father used to offload his tricky situations on to me for another take on things. We used to brainstorm ideas.’

  Jonah grinned. ‘He never said.’

  Gwen shrugged. ‘Why would he? I just want you to know that as it was with your father, the same applies to you - nothing you say will ever go any further.’

  Jonah squeezed Gwen’s hand. ‘Good to know. And it underlines why my father always spoke so highly of you.’

  Gwen coloured, then her face turned serious. ‘I presume you’ve filled Saul in about this?’ She raised her eyebrows. She would hazard a guess how Saul would deal with it, given half a chance. He’d deal with it in such a way that there would be nothing left of anyone. There was no nice way to say it, but that man was a bloody nasty piece of work.

  Jonah jutted out his chin. ‘Yeah, he knows.’ And he hadn’t even been slightly impressed by his not agreeing to barge into the old woman’s place, smash her up along with the house and rip every floorboard up until the haul was located. ‘He doesn’t agree with how I’m handling it, as you can probably guess.’

  Gwen smiled and patted Jonah’s hand. ‘Listen, you know as well as I do that you’re doing things the right way.’

  Jonah nodded, his gaze fixed on paperwork on his desk.

  Gwen lowered her head so Jonah was forced to look into her eyes. ‘And Lena? Are you happy?’ There. She was overstepping the mark but now he had the option to either tell her to sling her hook or tell her anything else that was bothering him.

  Jonah necked his whisky and placed the glass down just that little bit heavily. ‘I’m getting married, aren’t I?’ A nerve in his jaw twitched. ‘Everything’s fine. Or it will be once I get this business with the shit Pointer caused finally finished.’

  Gwen smiled, but she knew Jonah was lying. She’d always been able to tell when he was lying. The problem was, she didn’t know how to help him.

  ‘I’M FINE, MUM,’ Heath kissed Tammy on the cheek. ‘Just thought I’d pop round on my way out with the lads to drop some stuff off for Dad and ask how Nan’s funeral went. I thought I should have gone myself, but Dad said Nan wouldn’t want us to close the showroom for the day on her account.’

  Tammy pursed her lips. ‘You didn’t miss much. It went ok – as funerals go, that is. Your Dad’s a bit on edge, but I suppose that’s to be expected.’ She handed Heath an order of service. ‘You can have this. Not sure why your Dad had so many printed. There was only six of us.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Heath took the folded paper from his mother’s hand and looked at the photograph of his Nan taken in her younger days, surrounded by the words:

  In remembrance of Sophie Pointer

  Beloved mother, wife and grandmother

  Frowning, he was unsure exactly how true the gold embossed words were, but what did it matter?

  Tammy eyed her son suspiciously. ‘You say you’re going out? That’s your work suit isn’t it? Have you only just finished?’ She frowned. ‘Your father’s working you too hard. I keep telling him th...’

  ‘It’s fine Mum, honestly. Listen, is Dad around?’ Heath knew he should have just phoned. His mum was always giving him the Spanish inquisition, but he needed to fill his father in with the updates and didn’t want to talk over the mobile. Not when he was trying to retrieve millions of pounds worth of stolen diamonds, that was.

  A frisson of excitement travelled up Heath’s spine like it always did when he thought about what could be within his reach. Now he’d got another bit of the jigsaw the prospect was getting nearer.

  ‘Your dad’s in the study,’ Tammy nodded up the hallway. ‘Can I get you some dinner?’

  Heath shook his head. ‘No, I’m not stopping long.’

  ‘Ah, Heath!’ Mike stuck his head around the door. ‘Thought I heard you. Come in.’

  Heath moved into the tiny study which had once been a utility room and, by the looks of it, still doubled up as one. Shutting the door, he squashed himself onto the only other chair in the small room – the one wedged between a tumble drier and a pile of neatly folded clothes. ‘Mum said the funeral went ok?’

  Mike nodded. ‘Yeah, but don’t worry about that. Tell me how it went from your side.’

  ‘I met Helen Shepherd,’ Heath gabbled, barely able to wait to tell his father what he knew. ‘She’s a bit snooty, but on the whole, she’s ok. I viewed this posh house. I tell you, when we get this money we should buy somewhere like that – you should have seen it! Massive! You could have a proper home office - not like this set up.’ He waved his arm around the tiny space, inadvertently knocking off a packet of washing powder from the side.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Heath,’ Mike grumbled, stooping to pick the packet up, balancing it back on the side. He’d love a big place too. A lot better than this stupid house. He’d move out of Shepherd’s Bush too – that was a certainty and buy somewhere nice – somewhere upmarket, but that was presuming he got his hands on the stash.

  To be honest, Heath rambling on about big country piles wasn’t getting them any closer to achieving it in real life. All it did was underline how far they actually were away from getting anywhere. ‘Have you made headway with anything or are you purely dreaming of what you could get if we ever got our hands on the stuff. By the looks of it, it’s a big ‘if’.’

  This was all starting to feel pointless. Despair crept over Mike. He’d been on a downer since opening a statement from one of the loan companies he owed that was waiting for him when he’d got back from the funeral. It had done nothing to help his mood. Yet another piece of threatening correspondence he’d had to make sure Tammy didn’t see.

  Unperturbed by his father’s despondent attitude, Heath remained optimistic. ‘Well, I can certainly arrange another viewing – make Helen believe I’m really interested and...’

  ‘But what will that achieve? I mean, really achieve? It won’t get us anywhere, will it?’

  Heath frowned. Where had his father’s excitement emigrated to? ‘It might. I learnt quite a bit about Helen Shepherd’s family today.’

  Mike sat forward. ‘Like what?’ He scowled as he knocked a hole punch off, what was marketed as a ‘computer desk’, but should realistically have been described as an extra small table for kids under twelve or a dressing table for dwarves. He might sue Argos for misinformation.

  ‘It looks like my assumptions about the company finances were correct. Although it looks very swish from the outside, she’s definitely got stuff on her mind. Far too much in a rush to take over anyone showing interest for the expensive properties. Plus, I overheard her talking on the phone to Robert – you know, your brother? He doesn’t sound a very happy chappy and things are far from rosy in Dulcie Adams’ camp by the sound of it. They reckon she’s got dementia and losing the plot big time. And to top it all off, in case you’re interested, Robert hates the home help.’

  ‘How fascinating... And that’s supposed to be useful?

  Heath grinned. ‘It could be... I heard Helen say ‘Teagan’ – that’s the name of the girl looking after Dulcie. But it’s better than that... I followed Helen back as she said he was visiting her mother and I saw this Teagan person when she answered the door.’

  Mike scowled. Did Heath think this was some kind of fucking adventure game? ‘Forgive me, but I don’t get why I’m supposed to be impressed. What has this Teabag, Teagan or whatever she’s called, got to do with anything?’

  Heath smiled widely. ‘Unusual name, right? I saw her – a nice looking bird. Early twenties and...’

  ‘Oh my God. Is this about getting your leg over? For fuck’s sake, Heath. If you...’

  ‘I wouldn’t say no!’ Heath winked, ‘but that’s not what I mean. When I got back, I searched Facebook.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I suspected there wouldn’t be many Teagans in that age bracket in the Maidenhead area and I thought if she was on Facebook then
...’ Fishing his mobile from his pocket, he opened the app, placing the screen to face his father. ‘This is her, so I’ve sent her a friends request.’

  Mike raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Friends request? What’s that supposed to mean? Whatever it is, I’m very pleased for you! Christ, boy – are you winding me up? What are y...’

  ‘No!’ Heath cried. ‘You’re missing the point! This Teagan – her profile is public, so I looked and after a bit of digging, I found where she went to school, so along with the friends request, I sent a message acting like I knew her – an old classmate.’

  Seeing his father was still confused, Heath sighed. ‘Don’t you see? Most people will automatically assume they must know someone, but just can’t remember them, yes? Come on, we’ve all done it. She hasn’t yet accepted my friends request, but I’m guessing she will.’ He grinned. ‘And when she does, I’ll suggest meeting for a catch up. If I can get in with her, then I can pick her brains for info on Dulcie Adams. You never know, I might even be able to get into the house.’

  A flicker of a smile formed on Mike’s face as it dawned on him what Heath was doing. It was a good job his son understood all of this computer stuff. He wouldn’t have had the first clue to think of doing something like that, or that it was even possible. ‘That’s bloody good, that is. I see what you’re saying.’

  Maybe things weren’t quite so bleak as he’d been thinking after all.

  Nineteen

  TEAGAN WAS BUSY keeping out of the way like she had been ever since Robert arrived an hour ago. Pushing straight past her without so much as a word in greeting, short of an unpleasant glare in her general direction, he’d made his way up the hall, making a point of loudly shutting the door behind him to the room Dulcie was in.

  There really was something distinctly unpleasant about that man that made Teagan wary, but she could hardly lurk around eavesdropping; her nerves were already in tatters. She placed the vacuum cleaner against the scullery wall and leant against the door, inhaling deeply.