False Diamond--An Abbot Agency Mystery

by Veronica Heley

  As she left her bedroom, she thought she heard a door close overhead. She hadn’t heard Maggie come in. Surely the girl wouldn’t have crept up past Bea’s door without popping in to say she was back?

  Bea hesitated. The front doorbell rang. Leon was on time, and it would be rude to keep him waiting. Bea decided to deal with Maggie later and went to open the door.

  There was a good steakhouse not far away, on the main road. A trifle on the noisy side because the wood floor had been left polished and waxed, without carpet or rugs. But, the service was good, and Bea was hungry. As was Leon.

  He asked, ‘Wine or beer?’

  She remembered that he liked beer. She hadn’t had beer for a long time. So why not? ‘Beer would be fine.’

  They both declined starters and ordered steaks.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘have you had time to check up on me?’

  ‘Some. More to come.’

  His eyebrows quirked. ‘Confess: you wouldn’t have bothered if I hadn’t made that stupid joke about being an undischarged bankrupt.’

  She smiled. He was right, of course. ‘No comment.’

  ‘I’m an idiot. I’ve been trying to work out why I lied to Benton and, well, I’m not liking myself very much. I thought I had got over it, but the rejection by my family seems to have gone deeper than I thought. I invented the first lie I could think of in order to avoid being dragged into their machinations. I’m conflicted. Is that the right term?’

  ‘You mean that, despite yourself, you share some of your sister’s feeling for the family?’

  He pulled a face. ‘Duty. Such a dull word.’

  ‘How about reinventing yourself as a white knight, riding to the rescue?’

  ‘Like Don Quixote, you mean? Tilting at windmills?’

  She had to laugh, thinking he was excellent company. He held her gaze. His eyes were definitely hazel, with pronounced crow’s feet around them. She half-smiled, feeling the pull of attraction … and then lowered her eyes to break the spell.

  Her pulse was a little too fast. She had put all that side of herself to sleep when Hamilton had become ill and died. Her first husband, Piers – who was still around and who flitted in and out of her life now and again – had tried to reawaken her recently, but she’d resisted. It was uncomfortable to be reminded of sex. At her age, too!

  He cleared his throat. ‘Benton tells me you’re in the habit of taking in waifs and strays.’

  Now how had he come by that information? Ah, Max had talked to Benton, and Benton had talked to Leon. The information corridor between the conspirators – if that is what they were – was well established, and anything she said might go back the same way.

  She said, ‘Waifs and strays? In a way, I suppose. Maggie was wished upon me by her mother, who didn’t want the girl hanging around at home after she’d been sucked into a disastrous marriage and then dumped. She’s an ugly duckling who’s turning into a swan. She housekeeps for me part-time, but has a successful career as a project manager. Oliver is at university, studying something in the realm of Higher Maths, don’t ask me what. Way beyond my brain power. I would have supported him through university but he’s won a bursary here and a prize there and is almost paying his own way. He helps me out at the agency in vacation time. They’re both great. They call me Mother Hen.’

  ‘Mother Hen?’ His eyelids crinkled. He liked that. ‘So they’re both off your hands, really?’

  ‘Monetarily, yes. But they’re great company and I think of them as my second family.’ Except that Maggie was in trouble …

  The steaks came, and they didn’t talk much as they ate. The food was good and not overpriced. Satisfactory.

  ‘Afters?’ he said.

  She leaned back in her chair, replete. ‘Coffee. Decaffeinated.’

  He ordered. He had the same knack as CJ of being able to summon waiters when required. ‘Have you thought any more about Dilys and what can be done to save her?’

  ‘Some, yes.’

  ‘If – and I’m just toying with the subject, you understand – Benton invited me to stay in order to have a witness when Dilys has an “accident”, then the next “accident” might prove fatal. Do you agree?’

  ‘I do and I don’t. She’s your brother’s only daughter. Doesn’t he have some fondness for her? Wouldn’t her disappearance rebound on Benton?’

  ‘Not from what my sister says. Like me, Dilys was an afterthought, born when my brother was well into his fifties, and her mother went off into the blue when the child was old enough to go to a boarding school. Just like mine. The Hollands don’t have a good track record in raising children. Dilys is no great brain, apparently. The family never expected her to be anything but a passenger till she married. I suppose they thought she might bring a suitable man into the business, but they don’t seem to have made any effort to introduce her to suitable men. I don’t think my brother cares tuppence for anyone or anything but his own comfort.’

  Bea wondered if Leon himself would ever have a child, and how he would treat her if he did. He was now, presumably, at about the age that his brother had been when he sired Dilys. Had Leon ever wanted a child? Had he been too busy? Had his partner refused to have one?

  She said, ‘Is the house in Dilys’s name, or in his?’

  He rubbed his chin. ‘I’m not sure. I assume it was a wedding present. Benton tells me he handles all the finances because she can’t be trusted to pay the utility bills on time. I know she’s signed over her shares in H & B to him, and I suspect he’s also had her make a will in his favour. She’s a sitting duck. So tell me, Mrs A., how to get rid of him.’

  She shook her head. ‘Kind sir, you do me too much honour.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ The lines of his face hardened and for the first time she caught a glimpse of an acute businessman behind the carefree exterior. ‘You’ve studied the man, as I have. He’s a braggart, a con man. He’s taken over Holland and Butcher by convincing my brother he’s the bee’s knees but, either because of previous bad management, or his own inability to keep the ship sailing merrily along, he’s heading for the chop unless, perhaps, he can manage to refinance H & B. Excuse mixed metaphors. So, what will he do next?’

  Bea responded with caution. ‘If he’s stripped her of all she has, he might be on the lookout for another meal ticket?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve heard something?’

  ‘No, no.’ Crossing fingers and toes.

  He thought about it. ‘Is there nothing we can do to stop him? I shall probably regret saying so tomorrow, but I’d like to take a hand in the game. Only, I can’t make bricks without straw. Give me something to go on, Mrs Abbot.’

  She thought through what she’d learned about Benton. ‘I’m told he had a previous entanglement which might be worth following up. Dilys says he sold her diamond to pay off his previous girlfriend, who subsequently met with a fatal road accident.’

  ‘Bless you, my dear,’ he said, laying a platinum card on the bill. ‘I knew you’d come up trumps. I’ll get the details from Dilys tomorrow. Now, are you going to invite me back for a brandy?’

  FIVE

  Thursday evening

  Back at the house, Leon lingered on the front doorstep, clearly hoping that Bea would change her mind. ‘Are you sure you won’t invite me in for a nightcap?’

  ‘No, Leon. You knew I wouldn’t. I paid for my supper with information and, as a working woman, I don’t invite strange men into my house for a nightcap or for any other purpose.’

  He raised his hands in the air. ‘You can’t blame me for trying.’

  Without giving it much thought, she said, ‘It’s too soon, too raw, for you to be thinking of replacing your partner.’

  In the light of the street lamp, his face turned into a mask.

  She put her hand on his arm for a moment and pressed it. For comfort. Then she let herself into the house and closed the door in his face. Once inside, she dealt with the alarm and reset it. Then stood, trying to work out wh
ether Maggie was in or not.

  Yes, the girl had left a pair of boots under the hall table. There were no lights on in the kitchen. Winston the cat appeared, to do some stretching exercises and inform Bea that he hadn’t eaten for a week and would perish if she didn’t feed him immediately. A lie, of course.

  Bea fed the cat and turned off all the lights downstairs. Maggie and Oliver had a two-bedroom flat upstairs, complete with living room, kitchen and bathroom. There was no reason why Maggie should not have eaten upstairs by herself. She was not obliged to wait up for Bea, or to maintain constant contact.

  The fact that she usually did was neither here nor there. Wasn’t it?

  Bea climbed the stairs, with Winston at her heels. He would sometimes condescend to sleep on her bed. Sometimes he’d go up to sleep with Maggie. It depended on his mood.

  The house lay quiet around her, but there was a leak of light from the top floor. No music. There was definitely something wrong if Maggie were at home but sitting in silence.

  Bea tapped on the door to Maggie’s living room and waited for permission to enter. There was a scramble of sound and Maggie called out, ‘Come.’

  The girl was sitting hunched up on the settee, with her arms around her knees. Had she been crying? Possibly. The television was on, but the sound had been muted. Maggie was a good housekeeper and normally kept her rooms tidy. Today there was a certain disarrangement of newspapers and empty coffee cups which hinted at distress.

  Maggie was not a beauty in conventional terms. Her hair could be sprayed any colour from magenta to strawberry blonde according to the way she felt when she woke up in the morning. Her clothes were sometimes outrageous and always colourful. Maggie dressed to reassure herself that she existed.

  Today her hair seemed to have resumed its normal mouse colour and she was dressed in black.

  This was bad. Handle with care.

  Bea said, ‘I haven’t seen you for a couple of days. Missed you. Want to share a late-night cuppa?’

  Maggie shook her head, not taking her eyes off the muted television. ‘I’m all right. Just a bit … Work, you know. January blues.’

  Unasked, Bea took a seat. ‘I usually buy a bunch of daffodils when the dark days get me down.’

  ‘Good idea.’ A dull tone of voice.

  Bea was seriously concerned. ‘What’s wrong, Maggie?’

  A shrug. ‘Nothing for you to worry about. Honest. I must have picked up some sort of bug. I’ll be all right soon.’

  ‘If it’s that bad, I’ll make an appointment for you to see the doctor in the morning.’

  ‘Don’t do that.’ A sharper tone. Maggie reached for the remote and clicked the television off. ‘If you must know, I had a row with Zander, and we’ve broken up.’

  This was serious. Zander – short for Alexander – was a serious young man with a good job, who’d been Maggie’s loving and understanding boyfriend for some time now. Bea didn’t know whether the relationship had moved on from boy/girl, to man/woman, but she rather thought not. Zander was old-fashioned. He believed in respecting and loving his woman. He believed in commitment. He’d been very patient with Maggie, waiting for her to … to grow up? To realize that she was worthy of love?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Bea, trying to pick the right words. ‘I thought he was right for you.’

  Another shrug. ‘He assumed I was his for the taking.’

  ‘Nonsense!’

  Maggie uncurled. ‘He wants to own me.’

  Bea rolled her eyes. ‘Come off it, Maggie. Zander wouldn’t.’

  ‘He … I said, why didn’t he move in here with me? There’s plenty of room, and it would save him the rent of his place. He acted like I’d insulted him.’

  ‘So you had. Maggie, this is ridiculous. What really happened? Did he ask you to marry him?’

  Maggie raised both fists in the air. ‘Why shouldn’t he move in with me? You wouldn’t object, would you?’

  ‘He wants you to make a commitment to him?’

  Maggie spun herself off the settee and switched on the main lights. She turned on the radio and began to dance to it. ‘Boom, tiddle tiddle … Boom!’

  Bea reached over to switch the radio off. ‘Maggie, take five! Ask him for time to consider. Don’t—’

  ‘Don’t panic, Mr Mainwaring!’ she said, quoting a well-known oldie of a television show. ‘Don’t panic!’ She twirled round and round, putting on an act. Then, just as suddenly, collapsed back on to the settee. ‘So, yes. I panicked. Told him to get lost. Said I was never going to …’ She caught her breath. Sobbed. ‘I told him I didn’t want to see him again.’

  ‘Silly girl,’ said Bea. She moved over to the settee and put her arm around the girl. ‘You know you love him to distraction. He’s a gem of the first water and you don’t want to lose him. Why don’t you phone him, say you were taken by surprise—’

  ‘I wasn’t. I’ve seen it coming for weeks.’

  ‘Ask him to forgive what you said because you need to think things through.’

  ‘I asked him to move in with me, and he said he wouldn’t. He said that if I respected him—’ Again she broke off with a sob.

  Bea picked Maggie’s mobile from the mess on the table and handed it to her. ‘Ring him. If you don’t, I will.’

  Maggie struck the mobile out of Bea’s hand. ‘It’s too late for that. I’m not going to let him get me down. He didn’t love me enough, and it’s good that I realized it before I wasted any more time on him.’

  ‘Maggie!’

  Maggie sprang up and made for the kitchen. Then froze. ‘That’s your phone ringing downstairs.’

  There is something about a phone ringing late in the evening which tells you that this is not a sales call. This is urgent.

  Bea had an extension of the phone in her bedroom. She had turned the voicemail on, hadn’t she? Yes, she had. The voice clicked in as she was halfway down the stairs. She could hear her own voice asking the caller to leave a message and then … Leon’s voice, almost shouting, ‘Bea, for God’s sake!’

  She picked up the phone. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thank God. Can you come? Dilys was in the bath, unconscious. I’m doing CPR. I’ve called the ambulance, but the boys … and I’ve no idea where Benton is!’

  ‘Address?’ Bea reached for something to write on. Her Bible flyleaf would do. She took the address down and tore out the page. ‘I’ll be right there.’

  Maggie was at her side, her own problems forgotten. ‘Trouble? Can I help?’

  ‘Desperate. Do you know where this terrace is?’

  Maggie had an encyclopedic knowledge of this part of town. ‘Not far. Near Earls Court Road. Will we take a cab, or the car?’ Parking in this area was limited, very. Bea’s car was nearby but it was unlikely they’d find a parking space at the other end.

  Bea dialled. ‘I’ll get a cab. You get your coat. It’s cold outside.’

  They got there in record time. Traffic lights turned to amber and green as they approached, and there seemed to be fewer cars on the road than usual.

  Benton and Dilys lived in a pretty little street not more than a mile away. Late-Victorian villas. Ironwork balconies and bay trees in the forecourt. No garden. Three bedrooms unless a loft conversion had been done, which, in this case, it hadn’t. Two receptions, kitchen and bathroom. Lights on downstairs.

  Bea paid the taxi off while Maggie rang the doorbell. Insistently.

  A commotion in the curtains of the bay window. A boy looked out, made a rude gesture and vanished. Sound thumped. They had the television on with the volume turned up high?

  A wisp of a child opened the door, reaching the catch with some difficulty. She was wearing soaking wet pyjamas and had nothing on her feet.

  Bernice?

  Her eyes were huge but she was controlling herself. Just. She pointed upstairs and led the way, stumbling over the bottom step then scampering up on all fours.

  Maggie followed Bea into a nightmare. A small, old-fashioned bathroom, the flo
or awash with discoloured water slopping over on to the landing. An unpleasant smell.

  Leon, still in his overcoat, dripping water, on his knees, working on a man-sized doll.

  Not a doll.

  He said, ‘Am I doing this right? Do you know how to …?’

  He didn’t stop pumping.

  Maggie said, ‘Let me.’ She knelt at Dilys’s other side and took over.

  Leon sank back on his heels and closed his eyes.

  Bea’s eyes were drawn to the mirror over the washbasin, on which someone had scrawled the word ‘Sorry’. In lipstick?

  Was this another attempt to murder Dilys? Or was it attempted suicide?

  Bea delved into her handbag for her mobile phone and began to take pictures. The message on the mirror, the large, claw-footed old bath still half full of water, the wine glass on the side … Leon wet to his armpits, the front of his coat stained, his trousers dark with water. His shoes … Oh dear.

  Dilys lying on the floor.

  Maggie working on her.

  Bernice hovering, in silent anxiety.

  Water scurried around Bea’s boots. Water with something nasty in it. Vomit?

  Leon tried to help himself up by pulling on the washbasin. Failed. Sank back down again. ‘The paramedics say there’s been a multiple car crash out near the hospital. They’re diverting, soon be here.’

  Bea looked at a medicine cabinet on the wall, marked with a red cross and with a child lock on it – a broken child lock. Might there be something in there to explain why Dilys had let herself slip under the water? True, it was a very large, high-sided bath, and she was not a big woman, but …?

  Bernice knelt in the water by her mother’s head, not touching her, but very close.

  Maggie didn’t stop working on Dilys but said to the child, ‘What’s your name?’