He shook his head. ‘Eat up. Did you keep some back for Orlando and Dilys? Where is she, by the way?’
‘She’s out for the evening. There’s been a development there. I’ll tell you later. Back to your brother. Are his threats empty?’
‘Probably. He retained a few shares in all the companies which he handed over to me, so technically, yes, he could call a series of extraordinary general meetings to challenge my way of doing things. But that would make headlines on the financial pages, and our stock would plummet.’
She took a small mouthful and tried to swallow. Failed. Took a sip of water and tried again. Got it down. ‘You’re the darling of the media. Everyone applauds the way you’ve been going on. And everyone knows he’s past his best.’
‘He doesn’t think that way. He has billions in the bank, and they carry clout.’
‘Are you concerned as to the outcome?’
‘I’m concerned, yes. I’ve put all my money into redeveloping the companies he passed over to me, and I don’t like the idea of a family feud.’
‘What does your sister Sybil say?’
‘She has some sympathy for him. She’s much nearer in age to him than to me, remember. She thinks he’s in the wrong, but she’s not willing to interfere. She says she’ll make sure little Bernice is well looked after, no matter what.’ He cleared his plate. ‘Seconds?’
She gave him another helping. She’d hardly touched hers. ‘Sybil doesn’t care what happens to Dilys?’
A shrug. ‘No one does, much. You guessed correctly, by the way. I wanted him to set up a trust fund for Dilys. He said he’d made provision for her by marriage to Orlando, and that he’s no use for whiners. She’d been upsetting Mrs Evans, interfering with his routine, questioning this and that. Trying to find a new role for herself, I suppose. It didn’t go down well. She’s no great brain, is she? He may be right in saying that we all, including Dilys, ought to make our own way in the world, but she’s had a raw deal and isn’t well equipped to join the rat race. Yes, Briscoe can be tetchy. I probably chose the wrong moment to champion Dilys’s cause. He asked if I were questioning his judgement … and, of course, I was. Things escalated from there.’
‘Dilys is one of the walking wounded, and she certainly isn’t capable of earning her own living at the moment. At least, not in an office.’ There would be time to tell him about Keith later.
He tackled his second helping with vigour. ‘Let me explain how it is with Briscoe. He’s always had to fight his corner, and he doesn’t see why everybody shouldn’t do so, too. Our own father was not interested in anything but business. A fine role model he was; a cross between a banker and a pirate. He married twice in order to get himself an heir and a spare, and I don’t think he cared tuppence for either of his wives. His first wife gave him Briscoe, then took some years off to visit the South of France and have a good time generally before dying in giving birth to Sybil.
‘It was ten years before he married again, and that marriage produced the desired “spare”, in me. My mother was a much-admired beauty. She handed me over to nannies and left for another wealthy man when I was six. I never saw her again. She died a couple of years ago, left no note for me, no message, nothing. Not that I expected any.’
Yes, thought Bea. That still hurts, doesn’t it?
He shrugged. ‘Well, that’s the Hollands for you. Bad pickers, you might say. Not good at sustaining relationships. Like Briscoe and Sybil, I was sent off to boarding school at the earliest opportunity. Sybil has married for money and status, three times. I settled into a long-term partnership but avoided marriage. My brother seemed to live only for making money. I think we were all surprised when he upped and married his then housekeeper and produced Dilys. I have sometimes wondered if he married her to avoid disruption in his routine. I don’t think it ever occurred to him that his wife might bear him a child or that he should offer either of them any affection. So when Dilys’s mother died in a car accident – nobody’s fault, she took a bend too fast – the girl was sent off to boarding school.’
He cleared his plate again. Drained his glass.
Bea fetched a yogurt and fruit mixture from the fridge for him. She’d hardly touched her own plateful. ‘Could you yourself set aside enough to provide for Dilys? He can’t strip you of everything, can he?’
‘You never know quite how things will go at extraordinary general meetings. There are always some malcontents with an axe to grind. The balance sheets are healthy if not startlingly good. I sacked a couple of the managers he’d appointed, for incompetence. They complained to him. He took their part, encouraged them to go to employment tribunals. I’ll win, but it’s something I could do without.’ He hesitated, shooting her a sharp look. ‘If I lose everything, you could always find me a job as a cocktail waiter, or a toy boy, couldn’t you?’
She tried to laugh. ‘You’d bounce back.’
‘You believe in me?’
‘Yes, I do.’
Silence, while they both thought about that.
He said, ‘Marry me?’
She shook her head. ‘You’re not thinking straight.’ She pushed her chair back. ‘You were testing me, wanting me to hear your brother’s message. How long have you known that he was going to try to destroy you?’
‘He isn’t.’
‘I asked the wrong question. How long have you suspected that he would turn on you?’
‘Ah.’ He tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling. ‘Since last Thursday evening, when we disagreed about Dilys’s future and he challenged me to return my companies to his control.’
‘You took precautions. Don’t deny it. Of course you did. Now, what would you have done? Consulted your solicitor, yes. Not the one Holland Holdings uses. You guessed he’d deny you use of the suite at the big house. You already have your bolt-hole in the Barbican. May I ask why you aren’t using that?’
‘It’s bleak and cold. I prefer your company.’
‘And my cooking?’ She frowned. ‘What else? You would have found and staffed another office.’
‘At short notice, that was a bit awkward. I did wonder if you’d let me rent Maggie’s old office here and find me a good PA?’
‘Oh, no, you don’t. Besides which, the timing’s wrong. You’ve probably already rented a suite of offices in the City somewhere, with platinum blondes attached …’
He laughed, raised his hands in surrender. ‘I’d been thinking of doing just that for work purposes for some time, because it was awkward administering Holland Holdings (UK) from Briscoe’s home territory. So, yes, I did set myself up in another office. But, I hadn’t wanted to stop living at the big house so soon because I wanted to keep an eye on Dilys and little Bernice. Plus my sister Sybil is always good company. Remind me to give you my new phone numbers. And what was that about the agency phone being bugged?’
‘I’ll tell you later. One thing I’m sure you did was to go to see Adamsson, your brother’s head accountant. You didn’t think he’d approve of the line Briscoe was taking and wanted his advice. And Adamsson said …?’
‘He was distressed. He said he’d already tried to talk to my brother about Dilys. He warned me that Briscoe was planning to regain the companies which had passed to my control. He said my brother would use any tiny mishap at any one of my companies to cause me trouble; an infringement of health and safety rules, a slip-up on the balance sheet, a lowly employee dismissed without good cause. Any or all of these minor matters could be magnified into mismanagement on my part.
‘He is an unassuming little man to look at, but he can be fiery in defence of his beliefs. Very black and white. Very small town accountant, carrying his Protestant torch of truth and light into the boardrooms of the mighty. Not the type you normally find at the top of the financial tree. To tell the truth, I feared for his future if he crossed my brother. I tried to suggest that he be circumspect, but he was one jump ahead of me. He told me he had considered resigning rather than follow orders which he would fin
d distasteful. I was so enchanted by his courage that I became carried away and—’
‘Said that if he resigned, he could have a job with you. Hence your brother’s accusation of treachery.’
‘Yes.’ He stood up. ‘You’ve hardly touched your supper. May I make some coffee? I have to go out in a while and may be back late.’ He cocked his eye at her.
She smothered a grin. ‘You’ve been angling to get into my bed for months, and you think I’ll let you do so now? You are so wrong, Mr Holland. If you’re desperate, you may return, but you and Orlando will have to make do up at the top of the house, and I’ll have Dilys in the guest room next to me.’
‘Dear me. Now I’d hoped that, seeing me in such distress—’
‘No, you didn’t. And Dilys needs a chaperone.’
He threw up his hands. ‘You’ve lost me.’
She twitched a smile. Little did he know! ‘Dilys has acquired a follower …’
The kitchen phone rang.
He said, ‘It may be for me.’
She checked the number of the caller on the phone and picked it up. A deep man’s voice, one she recognized. ‘Is himself there?’
‘Yes, Lucas. You’ve been running errands for him, have you?’ She passed the phone to Leon. ‘Your taxi awaits.’
Apparently, Lucas was not just reporting for duty, but had something specific to say. Leon said, ‘Mm,’ at intervals. And finally, ‘Thank you. Fifteen minutes?’ And put the phone down. He said, ‘I asked Lucas if I could retain him for a couple of days, double his usual take home pay. He agreed, so I suggested he took a trip out to the swimming pool car park, to see if Adamsson’s car was still there. Lucas says the far end bay, where the murders were committed, has been taped off and police are still on the site. They were stopping all-comers to ask if they’d been there yesterday and what they’d seen. He said he was just a sightseer, and they let him peer over the hedge. Adamsson’s car has gone.’
‘I suppose he came back, looked around for the people he was supposed to meet, didn’t see them anywhere … or perhaps he did see Lord Lethbury’s corpse? And drove off?’
‘Remembering that the back offside window was starred … I have a bad feeling about it. And why didn’t he answer his mobile when I rang?’
‘Perhaps he himself was never there, and his car was there as bait? After all, he’s supposed to have gone off on holiday, hasn’t he?’
A reluctant nod.
A peal on the front doorbell. ‘Now who …?’ said Bea.
It was Orlando, looking shrunken and miserable. ‘Sorry. Forgot the key Dilys gave me. She said I had to turn off the alarm system, but I couldn’t remember what the numbers were for the life of me.’
‘Come on in,’ said Bea, drawing him into the kitchen. ‘We were worried about you. Have you been with the police all this time?’
‘Don’t you ever listen to the news? Margrete’s husband, the banker or whatever he is, took fright and tried to get on a flight to Spain this afternoon. They arrested him at the airport. Charged him with her murder.’
‘What? But your father …?’
‘They tell me he just happened to be there, waiting for me, at the wrong time. He must have seen the banker killing his wife and been killed himself before he could tell the police.’
She switched on the small television that she kept in the kitchen and found a news bulletin. And there it was.
‘A man has been detained in connection with the murder of … Arrested as he attempted to flee the country to …’
She felt as if she’d been hit on the head with a hammer. Could it really be a coincidence that they had all met at the car park at that time? Surely not, although coincidences could happen … But! No. She didn’t believe it.
Leon had frozen into a statue.
She said, ‘What about the fake texts which took you and Leon out there?’
Orlando slumped into a chair. ‘The police think it was a coincidence, that someone was playing a joke on us, getting us all out to meet together. There’s no trace of the texts on my phone. It’s clean. Empty. Whatever.’ He collapsed on to a chair and put his head in his hands.
‘And on Leon’s phone?’
Orlando said, ‘They were hoax texts, I tell you!’
Leon half closed his eyes. He picked up his coffee cup and sipped. Watching Orlando, saying nothing.
Bea didn’t know what to think. ‘That’s terrible. Your poor father. And you, Orlando, have you eaten?’
He shuddered. ‘No, I couldn’t. I keep thinking, my father didn’t understand me, but he was my father, after all, and maybe we’d have come to some understanding eventually, but now … it’s too late! If only I’d got there earlier!’
‘You might have suffered the same fate,’ said Bea, impatient with histrionics. And then, softening, ‘Of course it’s a blow, and you must feel it, terribly. So the police said you’re in the clear?’
He sniffed. ‘I suppose that’s what they said. They were opening and shutting their mouths, but I don’t think I took in a word of what they were saying. I know I said to my solicitor that I’d had enough. He agreed, we upped and left. They didn’t stop us. I keep seeing my father. I look at him through the window. His eyes are closed. I knock on the window, I call his name. Again. And again. And then I open the door and … I’m never going to get him out of my head.’ He rubbed his eyes.
‘Have you any other close member of the family? Wasn’t there a distant cousin? Someone you could stay with for a while?’
‘Oh, her. She hates me. The police said they’d contacted her. I suppose I’ll have to ring my father’s solicitor at some point, not that I’m expecting to benefit from the will … but I don’t even have a phone now. I left mine with the police, not that they’re interested, but …’
Leon delved into a breast pocket and slid a mobile over the table to Orlando. ‘Take this. Keep it. I’ve hardly used it. It’s pay as you go, and it’s got nearly fifty pounds on it. Ring your cousin. You may not like her, but families usually pull together. You shouldn’t be on your own at this difficult time.’
Another shudder. ‘I know what she’ll say. That if I hadn’t been the way I am, all this would never have happened.’
Was that true? Possibly.
Bea said, ‘Why don’t you ring your boyfriend, Charles, tell him what’s happened?’
Another shudder. ‘Oh, I couldn’t. I mean, he was so devastated when I told him about the arrangement with Dilys—’
‘Which didn’t work out.’
‘No, but he might think … And I can’t let Dilys down. She’s so fragile.’
Bea hid a smile. ‘Don’t worry about her. I’ll see that she’s looked after.’
‘Oh. Well …’ He picked up the phone Leon had given him and looked around. ‘I’ll take it upstairs, shall I? I mean, this might take a while.’ And off he went.
Leon put his empty cup down. ‘I have to be off, too. I’ve still got several pay as you go phones to play with.’ He took a small memo pad from his pocket, scribbled on it, paused for a moment, concentrating … added another number, tore the sheet off and handed it to Bea. ‘You can get me on either of those, but use the code as before.’
She followed him to the front door. ‘Are you coming back tonight?’
‘I don’t know that I ought to …’
They looked at one another, but didn’t touch.
He said, ‘Will you wait up for me?’ He sounded uncertain.
She said, ‘If you’re not too late. Ring me.’
He nodded, picked up his coat, and left. She didn’t go to the front door to see him off, but watched from behind the curtain in the sitting room as he got into Lucas’s taxi and drove off. If the house was being watched, she couldn’t see any sign of it.
And then there was peace and quiet.
Well, quiet. There was no peace for someone like her who could worry for England.
And, oh! She’d forgotten the rest of the food she’d cooked. If the insp
ector came now, it would be cold, wouldn’t it?
SEVEN
Late Wednesday evening
Ten o’clock, and no sign of the inspector. Nor of Dilys. Nor of Leon.
Orlando had gone out, saying he was meeting Charles in a pub to have a good long talk. Well, that was all right, except that Orlando didn’t seem to know what he’d done with his front door key, could not be trusted to deal with the alarm, and might or might not return at a reasonable hour. How late would she have to wait up for him? This was worse than being a landlady.
Five past ten, and the doorbell went.
DI Durrell. Worn out, and in a bad temper. He kicked the door shut behind him, flung down his coat and stalked into the kitchen. ‘Don’t speak to me. Don’t even say, “Hi!” Feed me some carbohydrates and strong, sweet tea. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, my wife’s away with the kids at her parents and is angry because I’m not with them for their golden wedding anniversary, my DC has a filthy cold and has been sneezing all over me, and I’ve been handed a case I can’t solve. What’s more, I think I’ve stepped in some dog poo … Aargh!’
He seated himself, took off his shoe and threw it across the room.
Almost, she laughed. She’d saved him a plateful of food. She put it in the microwave to heat it up. She handed him a bottle of beer, an opener, and a glass. She remembered her mother saying, ‘When the man comes home in a temper, don’t argue with him. Feed the brute!’
The microwave pinged, she rescued his reheated food, stripped off the cling film and placed it before him. He poured the beer out too hastily. It was going to foam over the rim. She pushed a knife and fork at him, took the beer and the glass out of his hands, and poured it out properly.
He grumped at her. Which she took as a thank you.
He ate. She toyed with some yogurt. She didn’t feel like solid food.
He pushed his plate aside. ‘Don’t think you can get round me with food. The case you talked about is dead as the dodo. Margrete Walford went to the car park to meet her lover, who is a swimming attendant at the pool. He never made it because he’d been held up by some minor mishap in the showers, alibi confirmed. Her husband got to her first, killed her and then killed the other one, who witnessed the crime … what was his name? Never mind, don’t remind me, I don’t need to know. Husband took fright, hared off to the airport and was arrested. End of story, good result, feather in what’s-her-name’s cap.’
False Impression Page 8
