by Mary Birk
“I’m not sure what your game is, but I’m not playing. If you want to help, maybe you could start with telling me the truth about what Lawrence was doing for the Von Zandts.”
She held out her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t know.”
“I think you know more than you’re telling.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You know the kind of things Henry and Walter are involved with.”
She shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”
“Glynnis, there are other jobs, other flats, you know. You’re not Moira, and you’re not Barbara. You can leave.”
“That’s what you think.”
“You know what I think? I think Lawrence found out you were embezzling from the company and told Henry. Then Henry used the threat of prosecution to make you, as you say, start letting him visit you at the flat. And he holds that over your head.”
Her mouth fell open. “How did you know?”
Reid shrugged. “Made sense from the timing.”
She sat down on the sofa. “So, you see why I can’t leave him.”
“I don’t think the Von Zandts would ever prosecute you. It would open the company’s books up for examination from the police as well as your solicitor. They’d never do that.”
She eyed him, as if she were trying to determine if he were telling her the truth. “Really?”
“Really. Of course, I don’t know about what Henry would do instead. He may come after you. That I don’t know, but you probably do. Have you paid the money back?”
“Yes, and Henry never told his father. He said he’d keep it just between us as long as I did what he wanted.”
“So he’ll not want to tell his father now that he’d kept this from him. Henry’s in a bit of a spot himself.”
“I never thought about it like that.”
“Think about it. The Von Zandts have done so much harm to so many people. Standing by and saying there’s nothing you can do doesn’t cut it.”
“What can I do?”
Reid took a deep breath. He decided to trust her, at least with one thing he needed done. “You know about their involvement in prostitution.”
“Not really. At least, not much.”
“There’s a young girl whose life is being haunted by something she did when she was younger and desperate. Henry has films of her that he’s holding over her head.”
“What can I do?”
“Get the films. The originals and any copies.”
Glynnis scowled. “How? Even if I found the films, how would I recognize the girl?”
“You’ve met her.”
“I have?”
“She’s Bert Ramsey’s girlfriend. Patty Cady.”
Glynnis’s mouth fell open. “Does Bert know?”
“No, and she doesn’t want him to find out.”
She pursed her lips. “I can try.”
“Thank you. I have something else I want to talk to you about.”
“What?”
“I’ve asked you this before, but I need the truth. Did you have anything going on with Richard Ramsey?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Did Richard ever do or say anything to indicate he was attracted to you?”
She smiled flirtatiously and put her hands on her hips. “Most men are attracted to me. You would be, if you’d let yourself.”
“Did anything ever happen—did he ever make advances to you?”
Glynnis sighed. “You aren’t comfortable with this subject, are you? The answer is no. He never approached me, and I never gave him any signal his interest would be returned. Oddly enough, considering how things turned out, he was in love with my sister, at least until her drinking got so bad. So if he was attracted to me, it was probably because I reminded him of her before she became such an incorrigible drunk.”
Reid frowned. “When I first saw you at your sister’s house, you said that Richard Ramsey didn’t deserve to have his murder investigated. That he wasn’t a nice man.”
“Maybe that was a bit of an overstatement. What he did to Barbara destroyed her, but I don’t think he meant for that to happen.”
“What did he do to her?”
“She has such a talent. She’s an incredible singer, and when they married, he stopped her performing. He didn’t want to share her like that.”
“What about Moira? Sending her to live with Walter Von Zandt?”
Glynnis smoothed her hand over her knee. “I like to blame Richard, but the truth is that was more Barbara than Richard.”
“What do you mean?”
“If Barbara’s voice is beautiful, Moira’s is ten times more beautiful. But Barbara refused to allow Moira to have voice training or to do anything to pursue her talent. I hate to say it, but I think Barbara didn’t want Moira to have what she couldn’t. She was jealous of her own daughter. So she fell right in with Walter’s suggestion that Moira be turned over to Walter, and packed her off without giving it a second thought. Richard went along with it, of course. He needed to keep Walter sweet to get that money in on the most favorable terms.”
Reid tried to hide how stunned he was at this revelation. He remembered Moira scurrying away from the piano when her mother came into the room. Now he understood.
“I see. Thanks for telling me all this.” He looked at his watch. “You’d best be going if you’re going to get back before you need to be in the office. How did you get here?”
“Taxi, but I haven’t finished my tea.”
“All the same, you need to leave. Did the doorman at your building hear you say where you were going? I assume he reports to Henry on your comings and goings.”
“I pretended I was going for a walk and got a cab a few blocks down. I sometimes go for a walk in the morning when Henry doesn’t stay over. But you’re right.” She stood, suddenly assuming a confident brusqueness. “He may come over before the office opens. I’ll catch a cab around the corner.” She waved and slipped out the door.
Reid took a clean kitchen cloth out of a drawer, went over to the framed picture of Anne that Glynnis had handled, and, using the cloth, picked it up. He took a paper bag from under the kitchen sink and placed the photograph inside. Finally, still using the cloth, he gingerly picked up the mug Glynnis had used, dumped the liquid, wrapped it in the cloth, and placed it in the bag with Anne’s picture.
He was fairly certain Glynnis hadn’t been the woman with Richard Ramsey the night he’d been murdered, but one never knew. If any fingerprints or DNA surfaced, they’d be able to determine whether she’d been involved.
Chapter 58
HARRY LOOKED UP when Darby Reid leaned against the corner of his desk.
“Something I can help you with?”
“I thought we could talk. Do you have a minute?”
His guard went up. She was up to something. Harry knew exactly what she thought of him. She was rotten at hiding her disdain not only for him, but for the rest of the team. Except for her own brother, of course. Although even when Darby dealt with the guv, there was an undertone of something Harry couldn’t identify in her manner, something he didn’t like one bit.
“I’m all ears.” He treated her to a display he’d learned as a boy, and wiggled his already prominent ears.
She ignored his little trick and gestured to the conference room. “Can we go somewhere more private to talk?”
“No need. There’s no one else around, and I’ve just had my midmorning tea. Go ahead.” He could tell that she didn’t like not getting the reaction from him that he assumed she was used to getting from other men. Even though she didn’t want him, she wanted him to want her. Too bad, Toots, he thought. Not going to happen.
She lowered her voice to an almost whisper. “I’m worried about Terrence.”
“The guv can take care of himself.” Harry didn’t for one minute believe that Darby’s concern was genuine.
“I agree that’s usually true.”
“Then what’s
the problem?”
She lifted her elegant arse to sit on his desk. “Anne. As always, Anne’s the problem.”
He couldn’t think of a response to that. At least this one time, Darby might be right.
She leaned down to bring her face closer to his. “You and I are the only two here who know about her working for Von Zandt.”
Harry shook his head slowly. “No, not quite. The guv knows.”
“Of course, besides him.” He could tell she was getting exasperated with him, but she managed to push it off. “Harry, I don’t think he realizes what this could do to his career if people find out and he’s still in charge of the operation. It could ruin him.”
Ruin him? How ruined could the guv be? No matter what happened with the brass, Harry thought, Reid would still be the brilliant and immensely wealthy heir to an earldom.
“That’s his problem, luv, isn’t it? Or are you thinking of telling them?”
“No, of course not. I don’t want his career destroyed.” Her tone took on a hint of wheedling. “Maybe you could convince him.”
“Convince him to do what?”
“To recommend that the operation be turned over to Interpol. If he’s not in charge, Anne’s working for Von Zandt won’t be such a big deal.”
Harry didn’t even have to feign his surprise at that. “You’ve got to be daft.”
“Terrence is acting like he’s daft.”
“The guv can take care of himself.”
“You think so?” Darby’s green eyes darkened. “Do you realize what would happen if people find out and he’s still in charge of this investigation?”
“Above my pay grade, sweetums.”
She slid from her perch on his desk and hissed, “They’ll pull him off this operation.”
“Then they’ll pull him off. There are other operations. He’s only got the one wife. She’s certainly not working everywhere.”
“Are you being deliberately obtuse, Harry? His career will be in shambles. And it won’t do any of us any good if that happens.”
Ah, that was what she was really worried about. Not her brother, but that her own career would be hurt.
“Yes, well, we peasants are sometimes a bit thick. It’s our nature, we can’t help it. Just like you can’t help being a snobby bitch.”
She raised her hand as if to slap him.
He grabbed her hand. “I wouldn’t do that, sweetheart. I’m just ill-bred enough to slap you back.”
“Swine.”
He grinned as she flounced away, then picked up his ringing telephone. Harry only had to listen to the woman on the other line for two minutes before he knew it was important.
When he hung up, he went into the Superintendent’s office. His boss was staring at his computer screen and frowning.
“Guv?”
Reid looked up, then made a notation on the paper in front of him. “Yes?”
“I just got an interesting call.”
“From?”
“The wife of one of DI Lawrence’s mates. She said Lawrence got her husband’s car smashed up in an undercover operation. He promised to take care of getting it fixed, but never did. Now that Lawrence is dead, she’d like to know who’s going to pay for the repairs.”
Reid was quiet, then said, “Where’s the car?”
“She said he told her husband that the car couldn’t show up in a repair shop for a while because it would blow the operation, so Lawrence had her husband keep it hidden in a friend’s garage.”
“The repairs haven’t been done yet?”
“She says no.”
“What’s the mate’s name?”
“Billy Forester.”
“Send someone to talk to her husband. And her. See if they’ll agree to letting us search the car without a warrant. But before they do, get the address of the garage and I’ll get a warrant request going, in case they won’t agree. If we’re lucky, SOCO will be able to get trace evidence linking the car to DC Parsons’s murder.”
Harry tasted bile in his throat. “DI Lawrence killed the kid, didn’t he?”
Reid nodded. “Sounds like it. Or provided the car to someone else who did.”
“Why?”
“The only thing that makes sense is that Lawrence wanted Parsons to leave off the surveillance of Ramsey and Parsons wouldn’t agree.”
“Do you think Lawrence killed Ramsey?”
“Maybe. Or maybe he was just tasked with making sure the surveillance was dropped so someone else could kill him.”
“Then why was Lawrence killed? Why not just keep paying him off? He had to still be valuable even if just for the intel he was collecting through Shelley.”
“Apparently Lawrence overestimated his worth.” The Superintendent’s voice was flat.
Harry grimaced. “Not for the first time, that.”
THURSDAY, APRIL 16
Chapter 59
REID APPROACHED the front desk of Anne’s hotel. Smiling, he nodded a greeting at the young man behind the counter.
Instead of returning his smile, the desk clerk nervously avoided Reid’s eyes, stammering. “Lord Reid, I don’t think Lady Anne was expecting you tonight. She said you’d be here tomorrow to pick her up for the weekend.”
Reid instantly got a bad feeling. He felt his face tighten. “Indeed, but here I am. My wife?”
The clerk looked down. “I could ring her room.”
“Is that where she is?” When he got no response, Reid asked again, “Is she in her room?”
“I don’t think so.” The young man looked up, then quickly blinked and looked down again.
“Where is she?” The iron in Reid’s voice sent a message that could not be ignored.
Without meeting his eyes, the clerk murmured, “The dining room, my lord.”
“Thank you.” Somewhere inside him he knew what he would find. Ice froze his heart as he walked into the dimly lit room and looked around.
Anne was not hard to spot. She was sitting at one of the elegantly appointed tables, a glass of sparkling water and a bowl of soup in front of her. Her golden hair shimmered in loose waves down her back. Across from her sat Andrew Grainger, drinking wine and gazing at her as if she held the soul of the universe in her eyes—or in her womb.
Reid debated whether to leave without saying anything or go over to the table and confront her. Anne’s head suddenly turned toward him, as if she sensed his presence. The blood drained out of her face and her eyes got huge, like a mountain hare realizing a hawk’s sights were fixed upon it.
She sprang up, dropping the napkin from her lap. Crossing over to where he stood, she reached out her hands to him. “Terrence.”
Stepping back, he kept his voice low, his words sharp and clipped. “I see you keep busy when I’m away. No surprise there. Have you two been up to bed yet? His turn, I suppose.” His words were cold, but a tremendous heat burned through his body. He wanted to knock over tables, throw things, hurt Anne, kill Andrew Grainger. He shoved his hands into his pockets to stop himself from doing violence.
“Of course not. He’s just come to see how I’m doing.”
“You neglected to mention he was coming.” Digging his nails into his fisted palms, Reid tried to concentrate on keeping his hands in his pockets.
“I didn’t know.” Her voice was a plea.
From the corner of his eye, Reid saw the other man rise and move as if to come to Anne. Anne saw it too, and motioned to Grainger to stay away. The man stayed where he was, but did not sit down again. Reid thought, dare to come over here, you bastard, and I’ll kill you. But Andrew Grainger stayed where he was.
Still keeping her voice low, she said, “I was telling him he needed to go. I don’t know how he even knew where I was staying. He just found out and came.”
“Don’t tell him to go for me, Anne. I’m done with this.” He took a deep breath and pulled his hands, now under control, out of his pockets.
Her face was taut with tension. “You don’t mean that.”
“Indeed, I do. I don’t like the way the hotel clerk looked at me with pity when I asked where you were. I don’t like the way I act when I see you with other men. I don’t like the way I feel when I see you sitting there with your lover. I can easily understand how men kill in situations like this. I would like to kill Grainger right now. Him and, God help me, you. I won’t because I’m civilized, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m finished with this mess.”
“Terrence.” Tears shimmered in her beautiful eyes, but he’d seen them before, and his decimated heart couldn’t feel sympathy for her.
“I’ll have my lawyers draw up the papers, but it can wait until the child’s born. On the off chance it’s mine, we’ll make sure it’s born in wedlock. If you need anything from me in the meantime, perhaps you can have one of your sisters contact me. Give my best to Grainger.” He smiled, a thin smile that held nothing but pain. “Actually, you already have, haven’t you?”
“Please don’t go.” From somewhere far away in his head, he heard her plead with him, but he had to get out of there. He couldn’t stand any more.
He turned to leave, and too late, saw the flash from the photographer’s camera.
Chapter 60
SHE’D GONE UP to bed right after she convinced Andrew to leave. The look on Terrence’s face when he saw her with Andrew—and his words—haunted her. She’d fallen asleep once and woke up crying, dreaming of him walking away from her—saying he was finished with this mess, with her—then she slipped back into a restless sleep.
Close to midnight, she was awakened by the ringing of her cell phone. She picked it up quickly, only to be swamped with dismay when she realized it was Darby’s voice on the other end.
“Anne, it’s Darby. I need to talk to you.”
“Goodbye, Darby.”
“Don’t hang up.”
“Give me one good reason not to.”
“I really need to talk to you.”
Tired, Anne prompted her sister-in-law. “All right, go ahead, talk, I’m awake.”
“No, not on the telephone. I’m not far from your hotel. I’ll come there.”
“Not tonight, Darby, I’m exhausted.”
