Silent Truths

by Susan Lewis

  Adrenalin broke through her tiredness, and her heart began a dull sort of thud as, pushing back the sheet, she slipped gingerly from the bed. She was wearing only a thin pair of boxers and a matching crop top. Her dressing gown was in the bathroom, but she wasn’t thinking about that as a faint clatter from what might have been the kitchen caused her to stop where she was. Her mind was suddenly racing, flipping over thoughts like pages in a wind: the stolen manuscript; the skylight she’d forgotten to close, a chance burglar, the private investigator, the visitor she’d been warned to expect. The cat! But before relief had time to distil she gasped as Ruby slunk past her legs and padded into the bedroom.

  Her heartbeat was loud in her ears as she tried to make herself think straight. If there was someone upstairs, then there was a good chance they were here searching for her interview with Ashby. If she was right, the noises she was hearing was someone going through her computer and backpack. So how long before they came looking for her?

  Fear was hampering her decisions. Could she get along the hall and out of the front door without anyone hearing? What about the bedroom window? But no, the underground garage made the drop too far. It had to be the front door.

  Very carefully she eased the bedroom door wider, squeezing her eyes shut as the hinge squeaked. Stopping, she listened again. The sounds continued. It didn’t seem anyone had heard. Pleading silently and fervently with God to get her out of here before anyone found her, she started forward until horror suddenly froze her to the spot. The wooden floor of the sitting room was creaking, which meant someone was walking on it right overhead. She had to get out of here, now!

  Swiftly she ran along the hall, her feet silenced by the thick pile carpet. Reaching the door, she frantically, but quietly turned the handle. To her horror nothing happened. Oh dear God, she’d locked it and put the keys next to the bed. Having no choice, she ran back to get them, trying not to hear the floorboards groaning. Her heart was erratic, and her hands shaking so badly it was all she could do to grab the keys. Then she had to sort out which one it was. Taking a breath to steady herself, she forced herself to look through, found the right one, then started back to the door. She was halfway along the hall, when she heard a heavy tread on the stairs. Her head jerked up. She saw two feet moving cautiously downwards. In panic she ran for the door. Suddenly the footsteps were thundering. Her fingers fumbled manically with the keys. She swung round. He was masked and dressed in dark clothes. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. She spun round again, trying to force the key in. Grabbing her, he flung her back against the wall. The keys fell to the floor. He stooped to retrieve them. Without thinking she slammed both fists into the back of his head. He staggered only slightly, but it knocked her laptop from his grasp. Quickly he scooped it up, then he was towering over her, eyes lasering through the slits in his mask. He didn’t speak; she barely even saw him move, she just felt the blinding pain that shot through her head as he slammed her computer into it. For an agonized and blurred few seconds she was aware of being dragged and lifted before her senses were swallowed into a swirling, smothering ocean of black.

  It was seven in the morning Monte Carlo time, making it midnight in Fort Worth, Texas. Leonora and Marcus Gatling were in the bedroom of their luxurious Monaco penthouse that overlooked a harbour full of rich men’s yachts to the south, and confronted the imposing majesty of the Alpes Maritimes to the north.

  Leonora was lowering the blinds against the early morning glare of the sun, diluting the vivid orange glow to a more muted amber wash, while her husband sat propped up against an avalanche of pillows, talking into the phone. In contrast to his wife’s sublime elegance, he was a short, thuggish-looking man with receding wavy grey hair, dark spiky eyebrows, a pockmarked nose and moist fleshy lips. His voice was between alto and tenor, its staccato delivery scaled it to just short of rude.

  ‘Where are you now?’ he demanded into the receiver.

  ‘At Hank Wingate’s ranch in Texas,’ Abe Kleinstein’s voice responded. ‘I’ll be there by five your time tomorrow. What time’s the meeting?’

  ‘Seven, here at the flat. Is Wingate coming?’

  ‘Yep, he’ll be there. We’re using his Gulfstream.’

  ‘Do we need to organize a hotel?’

  ‘My secretary’s on it. Now before we get into it, what’s new on Ashby? I don’t mind telling you this situation’s getting us all a tad worked up.’

  ‘Then relax,’ Gatling told him. ‘We’ve got the reporter’s computer. It’s on its way here now.’

  ‘Did anyone check the interview’s on it?’

  ‘Not yet. There hasn’t been time.’

  ‘What about Mrs Ashby?’ Hank Wingate’s Texan drawl demanded. ‘How y’all coming along with her?’

  Gatling’s small, incisive eyes moved to his wife as she sat on the bed beside him. ‘We got a report yesterday,’ he answered. ‘She’s been engaging in some unusual behaviour.’

  ‘And what would that be?’

  ‘Sexual encounters with strangers. She’s back in the UK now.’

  ‘So what’s with these sexual encounters?’

  ‘We don’t know. It’s uncharacteristic. She’s also dyed her hair blonde.’

  ‘Any significance there?’

  ‘She’s starting to look and behave like somebody else. What does that say to you?’

  ‘She’s getting ready to start a new life?’

  Gatling’s eyes met Leonora’s. ‘She’s already got the name,’ he responded.

  ‘So what’s this adding up to?’

  ‘It’s our guess they’re trying to throw out some kind of smokescreen with talk of a divorce, but how they’re reckoning on getting him off this murder charge, or where this new promiscuity fits in, we don’t know. It’ll be interesting to find out how much Ashby divulged during his chat with the reporter.’

  ‘What about the manuscript? Did anyone read it yet?’

  ‘Leonora’s taking care of it. Nothing to concern us so far.’ His eyes were a question, so she nodded confirmation.

  ‘So what’re your instincts telling you here?’ Kleinstein demanded. ‘Does Mrs Ashby know anything?’

  ‘About the syndicate? My instincts say yes. Leonora’s say no.’

  ‘Normally I’d trust the woman on instinct,’ Kleinstein said. ‘In this case I’ll err on the side of caution, and go with you.’

  ‘Y’all still keeping an eye on her?’ Wingate wanted to know.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. So what’s on the agenda tomorrow night? Who’s going to be there?’

  ‘We’ll be five,’ Gatling answered. ‘Brunner’s coming in from Hong Kong. Wesley’s going to be here. He’s completed his analysis of the latest reports on the euro from the French and German Treasuries.’

  ‘Do you have a bottom line there?’

  ‘Not yet. He’ll give us one tomorrow, but we’re still waiting for the ECB forecasts for the coming year.’

  ‘So the euro stays down?’

  ‘It might gain some ground in the next few weeks, but it shouldn’t be anything to worry about.’

  ‘And the mood in Britain is still anti?’

  ‘Generally. Yes.’

  ‘What about the Heiler-Janks investment deal? Are we pulling out of that?’

  ‘Probably. We’ll discuss it tomorrow. The US NMD programme’s on the agenda too.’

  ‘Ah, Son of Star Wars,’ Kleinstein responded, giving it its colloquial name with the pride of a father. ‘We’ve still got some way to go on that. What’re your guys saying?’

  ‘Still hedging. Manley’s updated his long-term evaluation. It’ll be on the table tomorrow. I’ll email you a full agenda so you can look it over before you get here. I’ll use the Fielding code.’

  ‘Sure.’ Kleinstein was on the point of ringing off when Wingate suddenly said, ‘Y’know, I’m kind of concerned about this here uncharacteristic behaviour of Mrs Ashby’s. I think y’all need to speak to her again.’
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  ‘We’ll discuss it tomorrow,’ Gatling responded and ended the call.

  Half an hour later both Gatlings were in the enormous his-and-hers bathroom that ran alongside the bedroom, when the downstairs buzzer sounded, heralding the arrival of Laurie Forbes’s laptop. No sooner had it been handed over than one of the mobile phones rang, bringing a call from London informing them that Ava Montgomery’s agent was negotiating a deal with an interested producer to turn the book into a movie – and get his client out to Hollywood.

  The Gatlings looked at each other as they digested this proposed new turn in Beth Ashby’s curiously changing life.

  ‘First,’ Leonora said, ‘I need to finish that manuscript to make sure it doesn’t contain any nasty surprises. Then we should do as Kleinstein suggested and consider speaking to her again. I’m not really for it at this stage, but I can see your blood pressure is in danger of rising up against the angst.’

  ‘Just remember,’ he snapped, knocking her soothing hands away from his chest, ‘we wouldn’t be in this position if you hadn’t had the brainwave of inviting Ashby in.’

  Leonora smiled her surprise. ‘Oh, now you know very well there’s more to it than that, darling,’ she said smoothly. ‘But we won’t get into another fight about it, will we? I’ll just go and tuck myself away with the manuscript, while you open up that computer and find out what Miss Forbes has to tell us.’

  Chapter 15

  BETH WAS SITTING on the edge of the lawn, watching as Georgie dug gently and precisely into the soil, lifting out the spring-flowering bulbs to place in her basket ready for winter storing. There had been a couple of showers while she was in Spain, which had softened the earth and apparently cooled the air for a while, but today the temperature was rising towards thirty again, and the garden could hardly have looked more beautiful, or felt more tranquil.

  ‘So do you think this man was following you?’ Georgie said, stroking the loose earth from a bulb.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Beth answered. ‘Maybe it was just the coincidence that shook me up.’

  ‘But why would anyone be following you anyway?’

  Beth gazed up at the high, rose-covered wall. ‘I’m not sure,’ she answered. ‘But sometimes I feel as though there’s a whole other dimension to all this. Colin was involved in something with Gatling, I’m certain of it, and Gatling’s afraid I might know what it is.’

  Georgie sat back on her heels and smeared dirt across her face as she swept the hair from her eyes.

  Beth looked at her, then, hugging her knees to her chest, she said, ‘I can’t tell you how much calmer I feel now I’m back here. Hardly twenty-four hours and already I feel sane again. I swear, I was close to losing it while I was over there with her.’

  ‘I’m sorry it went like that,’ Georgie said. ‘I’d hoped, when I didn’t hear from you, that it was because things were going well.’

  ‘We should both know better,’ Beth responded. ‘Especially after all these years.’

  Georgie’s eyes showed her concern, but the longer she looked at Beth the more her smile grew. ‘I just can’t get over it,’ she laughed. ‘You look so different. Gorgeous, but totally unlike you. I’m still getting used to it.’

  Laughing too, Beth touched her hair. ‘It was a mad moment,’ she confessed, ‘but I’m not sorry.’

  ‘Nor should you be. It really suits you, and if it gets you into the kind of adventures you were telling me about last night – well, all power to you.’

  Beth was still incredulous, not only of Georgie’s reaction, but of the way she herself had embellished the stories of the shop and taberna to make them sound as though much more had happened. ‘I honestly thought you’d be horrified,’ she said. ‘I was, after. Three men in one go, in the middle of a wine bar.’

  ‘Don’t, you’re getting all my fantasies going again.’ Georgie shivered. ‘Not that I’d ever have the nerve.’

  ‘I never dreamt I would either,’ Beth confessed, ‘but something really got into me while I was around that woman. My head just wasn’t my own. First I was Ava, then I was Beth, then I didn’t know who the hell I was. I wanted to kill myself, then I wanted to kill her. Then Colin topped the list. Then, when that man turned up on the side of the road … But you know how you can turn a simple coincidence into something creepy and sinister if your mind’s not in the right frame.’

  ‘Do you think he saw what happened in the shop?’

  ‘He might have. He could have been lurking around the bar too, for all I know. So maybe he was following me, getting his kicks out of watching.’

  ‘Probably,’ Georgie responded. She felt strangely doubtful about all this, but wasn’t entirely sure why.

  Beth chucked her under the chin. ‘Don’t look so serious,’ she chided. ‘It was nothing, I’m sure.’

  Georgie smiled, then looked down at her hands that were covered in dirt.

  ‘Georgie?’ Beth said, half-laughing, half-worried. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Georgie answered. ‘It’s probably just the heat.’

  ‘Come on, we know each other better than that, so spit it out.’

  Georgie sighed and looked over at Blake, who was screeching and splashing about in the paddling pool with her mother. ‘It’s hard to put into words,’ she said, ‘but I suppose it’s the way everything seems to be changing. First Colin being where he is, doing what he did, or is supposed to have done. Then refusing to see you. Then there’s you with your new hair and new career. And now there’s this Hollywood thing … I don’t know, like I said, it’s hard to put into words.’ How could she say that she felt Beth was hiding something from her, when she wasn’t even really sure if that was how she felt.

  ‘I thought you liked my hair,’ Beth said.

  Inwardly Georgie winced, for it was a surprisingly shallow remark for Beth, particularly in light of everything else Georgie had just said. ‘I do,’ she responded. ‘It’s lovely. It’s just … Well, Hollywood seems so far away, and with everything you hear about it …’

  ‘Oh, Georgie,’ Beth laughed, hugging her. ‘You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘Of course. And it’s only going to be for a couple of months.’

  Georgie’s eyes looked searchingly into hers. ‘What about Colin?’ she asked.

  At that Beth’s heart turned over and her smile faded. ‘Georgie, don’t please,’ she said. ‘You know I wouldn’t even consider leaving here if there was a chance he’d see me, but he won’t. You picked me up yesterday, what was the first thing I asked? How is he, and has he changed his mind about seeing me? Have you got any idea how it feels every time I’m told no to that question? It’s as though another small part of me dies, and if I go on like this I’m afraid there won’t be anything left. So I have to try to do something to make myself survive. Getting the book published, and now this film – don’t you see, it’s telling me that there really is more out there for me. But don’t think for one minute that I wouldn’t throw it all away if it meant I could have him back where he belongs, as though none of this had happened.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Georgie responded, squeezing her hands. ‘I suppose I just want you to know that you’ve always got a home here, so you don’t need to run away if you don’t want to. We love you and care for you. You’re safe here with us.’

  ‘I know that,’ Beth said, holding tight to her hands. ‘And I’m not running away. Well, maybe I am, but only in a good sense, because it might help me to get a better perspective on my life now, as Beth, as Ava, as a newly single woman, if that’s what I am …’ Her heart caught on those words, and her mouth trembled as she said,’ I wrote him a long letter while I was in Spain. I didn’t think I’d send it, but I’ve got it here, and I think I’d like him to have it after all.’

  ‘Then you must send it,’ Georgie told her.

  Beth nodded. ‘I just hate the idea of strangers reading it first,’ she said. ‘That’s partly what’s
held me back all this time. It’s so intrusive. As if being apart like this isn’t bad enough, having other people pick through all your private thoughts and feelings … I don’t know if it’ll change anything if I send it, whether he’ll want to see me after, or even if he’ll write back, but I really want him to have it. Do you think, if I asked, Bruce would give it to him for me?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he will,’ Georgie responded. ‘He’ll be home tonight for the weekend. He can take it back with him on Monday.’

  Happy with that, Beth put out a finger for a ladybird to climb on to it. ‘Three dots,’ she said, looking at its back as it scuttled over her hand. ‘One for each month Colin will be in prison? If it were, he’d be coming home any day. Maybe it’s one for each year.’ The ladybird’s wings started to spread, then a moment later it flew away. Beth smiled at the symbolism. ‘Three years,’ she said softly.

  Georgie didn’t comment. Now wasn’t the time to remind her that first-degree murder carried a sentence ten times the one she had mentioned, though, who could say, maybe Colin was going to end up on remand for three years before finally being acquitted? So she merely wiped her hands in her apron and reached for the cordless phone as it rang.

  Elliot had just finished a call to his office when Rhona came into the kitchen. ‘How is she?’ he asked, putting his mobile down on the counter-top bar that separated the kitchen and dining room, and going to help himself to coffee.