The First Cut (Terrence Reid Mystery Series Book 2)

by Mary Birk

  Von Zandt opened a gold cigarette case and took out a cigarette. He offered one to Reid, who shook his head. Von Zandt lit the cigarette with a matching thin gold lighter, and inhaled deeply before answering. Only a man not brought up with money needed such trying-too-hard trappings, Reid thought.

  “It was a mutually beneficial business relationship.”

  When Von Zandt said nothing else, Reid prompted, “How so?”

  “A few years ago, Ramsey International needed an influx of cash. I provided the cash, gained an interest in the company. You might say, a significant interest.”

  “You’re on the Board of Directors of Ramsey International.”

  “I am. That was one of the conditions of the investment I made.”

  “As is your son. Henry?”

  “Yes, my eldest. His seat on the board was also one of the conditions.” Von Zandt blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke.

  Reid silently apologized to his lungs. “How will Ramsey’s death affect the structure of the board? Who will be in control of the company?”

  “No way to know.” Something sinister slithered from Von Zandt’s eyes.

  Reid suddenly realized what he should have seen all along. Why Von Zandt had gotten involved with Richard Ramsey. Von Zandt wanted control of Ramsey International. Out loud, he said, “With the control of Ramsey International comes the control of millions of pounds and many different businesses.”

  Von Zandt’s smile was glacial but he didn’t say anything.

  Reid went on. “One of those businesses is a pharmaceutical company.”

  Von Zandt said nothing.

  “And one an aeronautics company.”

  Again, no response.

  “Weapons?” As Reid said the word, a chill froze his body and the truth exploded in his mind. This was what Von Zandt was after.

  “I don’t think you need me to tell you what companies Ramsey owned. Look it up.”

  Reid’s mind was churning feverishly. Von Zandt had more of a motive to kill Richard Ramsey than just because he’d been about to spill Von Zandt’s secrets. It might also explain the real reason Richard Ramsey had agreed to help Reid.

  “When’s the vote?”

  Von Zandt shrugged.

  Reid kept his voice placid. “It won’t be hard for me to find out. You may as well tell me.”

  “The meeting is next week.”

  Reid considered. “Who is the solicitor in charge of the estate?”

  “Really, Superintendent, I’m surprised you didn’t get that information from Mrs. Ramsey.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me?”

  “Ramsey used the same solicitor as I use. Cyrus Rothman.”

  Reid absorbed the information, then asked, “When did you last see Ramsey?”

  “Friday afternoon. We met on some issues concerning the company. Henry was there, as well. The meeting ended at half five.”

  “We have reason to believe Ramsey was planning to meet a woman the night he was killed. Do you have any idea who it could have been?”

  Von Zandt raised his eyebrows in a parody of surprise. “None.”

  “Did he have a girlfriend?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Where were you Saturday night?”

  Von Zandt looked amused. “I was with my family for dinner, and spent the night with my wife at our home here in the city. It was her birthday. My sons were both there, and Henry’s wife as well, in case you need to know that—although my son Frederick did leave to take Moira to her parents and then back to the flat afterwards, as I believe Moira told you.”

  Reid inclined his head in assent.

  “On the off chance that you think I might have had something to do with Richard’s death, please accept my reassurances that not only would I never be involved in such a thing as murder, but I would be a fool to do so when it would focus the police’s attention on me. I am not a fool.”

  Reid stood up and moved toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  Von Zandt stood up. “Superintendent, always a pleasure. Perhaps next time we meet it will be a more pleasant occasion. We could have dinner. I’ll bring my wife, and you can bring yours—or,” he frowned, “is she still with her lover?”

  Reid didn’t say anything and kept his face impassive.

  Von Zandt smiled. “That must be awkward for you, but every marriage has its challenges, doesn’t it? Seriously, I’d like to meet her. I enjoy beautiful women.”

  Reid opened the door to leave. “I thought teenagers were more your style. Believe me, there’s a world of difference.”

  Chapter 27

  DARBY LEANED OVER to see Oscar’s computer screen, making sure the V of her shirt revealed a generous glimpse of cleavage. She’d been trying to ascertain the man’s exact position on her brother’s team. Terrence was undoubtedly not telling her everything, and she needed another source of inside information if she was going to take over this investigation.

  Oscar indicated some columns on the screen. “Four times we’ve located accounts suspected of being used to launder international funds. Four times, we tied them to Von Zandt, and four times, right before we got in, they’re cleaned out and closed down.”

  “You’re right; there’s definitely a leak.” Darby put her hand lightly on Oscar’s arm, in a way she often did to invite intimacy and interest from a man.

  No reaction.

  “Do you think the leak’s plugged now?”

  He turned to her, and she parted her lips in the soft signal of receptive female.

  Oscar didn’t look at her lips, didn’t steal a peek at her chest, didn’t register any sign of being aware of her being just slightly too close. His face was all business. “We hope so, but now they’re making the accounts harder to find.”

  “Any new leads?” She looked intently into his eyes, and put all the heat she could muster without being ridiculous into her voice.

  “Maybe. The guv’s friend, John Stirling, just deciphered some encrypted transmissions that might help.”

  Darby’s heartbeat sped up at the mention of John Stirling. God, she really might see him soon. But she breathed down her excitement. Right now her focus had to be on Oscar. “Where’s the money coming from that’s feeding into the accounts?”

  Oscar shrugged. “That’s the question, but we’re pretty sure it’s coming from Muslim extremist supporters. The guv says MI5 thinks the faction behind the university bombing plot is Nigerian, although we’re not entirely certain about that.”

  Darby didn’t need a primer on money laundering. She knew the backers couldn’t give the money directly to the terrorists because then they’d be tied to the attacks—so they went through people like Von Zandt who cleaned up the money and redirected it to the people actually doing the dirty work. And presto, once the money was cleaned, the tie between the givers and the receivers became invisible. “Then the money sitting in the accounts isn’t Von Zandt’s.”

  “Most of it isn’t, but he takes a cut of what’s there as a fee for the wash job.”

  Darby tapped her fingers. “If the money disappears from the account, I assume both ends of the transaction will be annoyed at Von Zandt. That wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “Not as long as we’ve followed the trail each way from the middle before that happens. Otherwise, they’ll just find another way to wash the money.”

  “Right. So this is where I might be able to help. Interpol has some sources that might be helpful. Okay to take the controls?”

  Oscar nodded, got up, and let her take over his computer. She talked while she accessed the websites she needed, but dropped her flirtatious maneuvers. She would never be able to recruit this man to ally with her, or to keep her informed of things Terrence didn’t share with her. Oscar was not vulnerable to her at all.

  The man was either the coldest fish she’d ever met—or he was gay.

  Chapter 28

  “TERRENCE REID came to see me today.” A large, rather mangy, calico
cat with one ear half chewed off, wound its way around the burgundy leather chair that was reserved for Walter Von Zandt’s exclusive use in lounge of the City Centre flat. Von Zandt moved his legs to avoid letting the animal shed its hair on his clothes, then gave it a hard kick with his foot. He spoke curtly to the bodyguard nearest to him. “Throw Moira’s fucking cat in her room.”

  The girl was in her bedroom doing whatever it was she did when she was alone. She was supposed to be studying, but he still could not understand how she could concentrate on her schoolwork when she had ear pieces plugged in her ears, feeding her the raucous noise she considered music. At least she wasn’t singing again. He remembered Reid’s remark about teenagers and was irritated again, thinking how close to right the man had been.

  The bodyguard moved swiftly to remove the disgusting creature. Von Zandt motioned to the man seated across from him. “How much exactly does Reid know?”

  Before DI Lawrence could answer, Von Zandt nodded to the largest of his bodyguards. “Stay at Moira’s door, and make sure she doesn’t come out while we’re talking.” His eyes moved around the room, checking that his other two bodyguards were in place: one at the flat’s front door and the other by the glass doors to the balcony. Then he brought his attention back to Lawrence, and waited for an answer.

  “Nothing for you to worry about, Walter.” The cop’s jaunty attitude grated on Von Zandt. He was bought and paid for, and Von Zandt expected the man to show him respect.

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t be worried.”

  “There’s not much to tell.” Lawrence’s eyes darted toward the bar, but Von Zandt doubted the cop would be brave enough to ask for a drink. “He knows Ramsey was murdered. They suspect a woman was involved.”

  “I got that much from his questions. But that’s not what I want to know. Any reason to think he suspects you of being involved with me? Or that you’re providing information to me?” Von Zandt regarded Lawrence with a steely gaze and saw a muscle twitch in the other man’s jaw. Good, at least the shite knew enough to be afraid.

  “Not a chance. I’d know if he did.”

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely. As you know, I have connections. Besides, Reid says he now thinks he was wrong about you being involved in funding the terrorist attacks. He says he’s refocusing.”

  Von Zandt narrowed his eyes. “Bullshite. Tell me another.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  Von Zandt pursed his lips. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Von Zandt motioned to one of his men to bring him a drink. He didn’t bother to ask Lawrence if he wanted one. He might need to use Lawrence, but he didn’t have to drink with him. “Maybe he’s not telling you the truth. I’d heard there’d been trouble between you and him.”

  “Nothing to worry about. He’s just cheesed off that I didn’t direct my men to stay with Ramsey 24/7, and the idiot got himself killed. Reid went up the chain to complain about it, but as I’m still on the task force, I’d guess they gave him short shrift. He may be their golden boy, but I’ve got Steynton looking after me.”

  “I heard you’d been reprimanded.” He could tell Lawrence was surprised that he knew about that. “You’re not my only source of information, you know.”

  The cop’s face went red. “It was nothing. A slap on the hand to keep Reid pacified.”

  “Are you certain?” Von Zandt didn’t bother to keep the skepticism from his voice.

  “Yeah, it was just for show.” The detective looked uneasy.

  Growing up as stinking poor rubbish in the seedy part of Glasgow, Von Zandt had learned the vicious rules of survival. As a young man, to give himself courage, he’d imagined himself as a ruthless tiger. Right now he let his mind toy with the idea of being that tiger and tearing Lawrence’s throat out. “I’m not sure you’re much of a detective. I’ll wager you don’t even know that Reid’s wandering wife is back.”

  DI Lawrence squinted, apparently trying to register the news. “She’s here? In Scotland?”

  “She’s been in Glasgow since Sunday night.”

  “With him?”

  “Yes, with him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Von Zandt gave him a withering glance. “Don’t insult me.”

  “Right. You know everything.”

  Von Zandt made a mental note of the man’s sarcastic tone. He’d pay for that. “As a matter of fact, she and the man she works for are meeting with me Thursday about the renovation of the gardens on an estate I purchased. They’ve just accepted the job.”

  Lawrence’s jaw actually fell open. “You’re fucking kidding.”

  “Not at all. They’d been offered the job a few weeks ago, but Lady Anne wouldn’t accept until she cleared it with her husband. She was concerned he wouldn’t want her to work so far outside of Glasgow, but apparently he’s given his consent.”

  “And he knows she’ll be working for you?”

  Von Zandt smiled. “Not yet. The estate is still named for the family that owned it originally, and it’s titled in one of my more obscure companies’ name. The contacts have all been through our estate manager, and I gave instructions that my name wasn’t to be mentioned.”

  “He’ll never agree to have her work for you.”

  “The contract is signed.”

  Lawrence gave a rough laugh. “So apparently she doesn’t have a brain in that fucking gorgeous body.”

  Von Zandt was unaccountably irritated. “On the contrary, apparently she does. The man she’s working for is probably the best historical garden restorer in the world, and she’s his star protégé.”

  “She’s probably doing him.”

  The cop’s response was pathetically predicable, Von Zandt decided. His analytical thinking seemed to consist of jumping from one stereotypical cliché to the next. “I doubt it, as he’s gay. And that’s beside the point. It will be hard for her to walk away from the job, even when she learns I’m involved. It’s going to drive Reid crazy.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t have guessed he’d take her back.”

  “Hard to fathom, I agree.” But convenient. Von Zandt had plans for Lady Anne. Screwing Reid’s wife would be a fulfilling way to stick it to Reid as well. And if she wasn’t agreeable, well, she just might not get a chance to say no. “I’m looking forward to meeting her. You haven’t, I take it?”

  “I’m not in Reid’s illustrious social circle.” Lawrence’s tone was sour.

  “Nor am I. But that’s going to change.” With control of Ramsey International, Von Zandt’s world would have endless possibilities. Neither Moira nor, for that matter, Elisa, fit in his vision of his future. He deserved more, and by God, he would have more.

  “Is that why you bought the place? So you could get Reid’s wife there?”

  Von Zandt shook his head. “No, that was just one of life’s unexpected ironies. My estate manager presented me with a couple of choices of garden designers that would have the experience to restore the estate’s garden, but he said that the top choice, if I was willing to pay for the best, would be Jonas Reveille and Anne Michaels. Then he reminded me who Anne Michaels was. That made the choice easy.”

  The cop grinned. “You’re going to fuck her, aren’t you?”

  Von Zandt gave the idiot cop a withering glance. “Don’t be coarse.”

  Lawrence flushed at the reprimand, then smoothed back his hair. “Speaking of Reid women, Darby Reid is here working with the task force. She’s with Interpol, you know.”

  “I am aware of her affiliation. When did this happen?”

  “She showed up this morning. I think it’s safe to say that she’s someone I should have no trouble keeping an eye on, if you get my meaning.” Lawrence’s smile was as contrived as his slicked back hair.

  “Don’t be too sure of yourself.”

  DI Lawrence didn’t back down. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s women.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first man to
make the mistake of believing that. You’d better make sure.”

  The cop scowled. “I’m sure.”

  “Do not disappoint me. I’m warning you, I am not nice when I’m disappointed.”

  “Nor am I.” DI Lawrence’s posture stiffened, and he stared back, but Von Zandt knew he’d won.

  He was ready to dismiss the cop, but decided to break the tension, and end the meeting on a better note. No point in having unhappy stooges wandering around causing trouble. “Good work, then.”

  The tension left the cop’s spine, and the man relaxed, his customary jauntiness returning. “So, did you get a chance to talk to Ramsey last night? I went through a lot of trouble to make sure he could get away to meet you without being followed.”

  Von Zandt glared. “I told you Ramsey didn’t show up. Henry and I waited for an hour, then gave up.”

  Lawrence looked at him, his skepticism barely concealed. “So you didn’t have anything to do with him getting killed?”

  “Absolutely not. I gave strict instructions that none of my men were to touch a hair on his head.”

  Lawrence seemed to retreat into thought, an odd smile playing on his lips. Von Zandt finished his drink, wondering how long he needed to put up with the idiot. Who knew what beetlebrained thoughts were wandering around his head? Keeping him around was getting more and more risky.

  Von Zandt stood up, signaling the meeting was at an end. “And for your information, nor did I have anything to do with that cop getting killed. I didn’t get to where I am today by being stupid. Whoever killed that poor young man did not have my blessing. And if I find out that one of my people had anything to do with that, they’ll be sorry.”

  Chapter 29

  ALLISON STARED at her computer, but she wasn’t concentrating.

  How did Darby Reid, who was just a few years older than she was, manage to always look so self-assured and competent? The guv had that same self-assurance, but he was older and had been in positions of command for many years, so that was to be expected. Would she ever be able to acquire that kind of polish, or was it something you had to be born with? Certainly the blokes on her search detail at the Ramsey house wouldn’t have treated Darby the way they’d treated her. They wouldn’t have asked Darby out, either. Even they would have seen she was out of their raggedy-arsed league.