Nine Ten Begin Again: A Grasshopper Lawns affair

by EJ Lamprey

  She hesitated. ‘You know I was planning to invest, and you and I discussed how much I could put up? I’ll be putting it in under his name, for exactly the reasons you gave. He’s seen as a safe bet. If it looks as if he’s backing it, it could sway others. And he does think it has real potential,’ she added hastily. ‘I’m not being fraudulent. He’s trying to free up funds. He thinks he can bring in up to forty thousand, but it will take a couple of months. He can’t leave his shows in the lurch, and I wouldn’t want him to. In the meantime, he’s happy to lend what he calls the doubtful benefit of his name to the list. It will need every string we can pull, the funding is nearly two hundred thousand short at the moment.’

  Patrick smiled reluctantly, and nodded past her. ‘He’s about to lend what I’d call the doubtful benefit of his presence to our date.’

  She turned her head as Donald strode lightly towards them and dropped gracefully into the chair next to hers, his hand covering hers where it rested on the chair arm.

  ‘Hello, Patrick, do you hate me?’

  ‘I do, yes. And I owe you an apology. I had a nosy through your finances. Just protecting my favourite girl, but she’s furious with me. I thought I’d better man up about it.’

  ‘Quite right. I’d have done the same. She’s my favourite girl too.’ Donald met Patrick’s eyes squarely. ‘I hope you reassured her.’

  ‘He said you took risks but were good at it and he wanted to get tips from you. And we’re all sorted out on the Jemima front. He also said if you ever make me feel neglected, he’ll invite me out to dinner and pat my hand and call me pet.’ Edge lifted her fingers to lace them through Donald’s covering hand and the slight tension dissipated. Both men smiled and Donald shook his head.

  ‘You can’t wait that long for a dinner. We’ll have to set up something before that. Is that cake as good as it looks? I might get some.’

  ‘Pretty much, but rich. You can have the rest of that slice if you like,’ she told him and he made a long arm to put the plate on his lap.

  Patrick sighed, then rallied. ‘What was that all about, the Jemima thing?’

  ‘Edge thought you were involved in something unsavoury,’ Donald told him around a bite of cake. ‘She was devastated. I told her you’d have a good explanation, and I gather you did.’

  ‘Yes, she said you’d defended me. But what did you think was happening?’

  ‘We didn’t know.’ Edge turned to Patrick spontaneously. ‘What could happen? I mean if somebody crooked had access to all our bank details and passwords, someone really good at finance?’

  He frowned thoughtfully. ‘Apart from the obvious, empty your current accounts? Hmm. Let me think about it. You’re wondering what she might have left in place that could cause future problems. She could have done any of the identity fraud things, of course. Set up new accounts, credit cards, new credit lines. She could have pushed your credit limits way up. It would be worth getting everyone to check theirs—even if she never got to use them, no point leaving a window for someone else. Set up medical records—although that wouldn’t need your personal banking details, I’m thinking aloud here—to get access to drugs. Money-laundering checks are in place in every financial institution, though, so she’d be severely limited. Simply wouldn’t have been worth giving up her professional credibility, and any future as an MSP, to steal at most a hundred thousand. Anyway, she didn’t.’

  ‘How about all her odd employment ventures?’ Edge was frowning in thought. ‘She could have organized passports, credit cards, identities for her waifs and strays, couldn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she could. Again, I can’t see it would be worth it. We’re punching smoke here, but this is really not a good time for the Lawns to be without a bursar. I can’t help out, the family starts gathering next week for Christmas, and Jules is holding the fort so he’s over-committed too. I’ll check in every other day if I can, but you really need someone keeping a proper lookout. Katryn’s good, but she doesn’t have the audit training.’

  Edge looked at Donald, who leaned forward. ‘We might be able to find Hamish. Any good?’

  ‘Yes, Hamish is one of the best. I thought no-one knew where he was?’

  ‘Oh,’ Donald was vague, ‘we’ve got a lead on that. No idea whether he’ll agree. I’m getting a cup of tea, that cake was a bit much.’

  Edge watched him go and Patrick cleared his throat.

  ‘Still besotted, then. I’m surprised you got any work done at all. My dear girl,’ as she turned wide eyes on him, ‘you looked for a moment there as if there was no-one else in the room. In the world.’

  She blushed and half-laughed. ‘I used to tell Clarissa that the way he walked proved he was gay. Far too graceful for a straight man. I was noticing it again and thinking how wrong I was.’

  ‘Well, don’t. It’s very uncomfortable for anyone else around. I was wrong about the cold fish. I’m going to leave before you dispense with the niceties and start mauling each other right here in front of me, but if you can get hold of Hamish that would be a very good thing. I’ll put a bit more thought into what could be done with access to a series of personal accounts.’ He heaved himself up, then looked at her severely. ‘Don’t you dare watch me walking away.’

  She held out her hand, laughing. ‘Are you going to leave now, or go up to the offices? You can pull me up if you want to be walked out.’

  ‘I’m leaving, but I want Donald to walk me out. I’ll see you soon, pet. Keep well.’

  He bent to kiss her cheek and went into the main hall, standing back politely to let Sylvia through into the conservatory.

  ‘Cheating on Donald already? He’s in the hall, if you didn’t know.’ Sylvia perched on the arm of Donald’s chair. ‘Bit of a surprise for us, you and Donald suddenly swinging into a tango. Matilda said she expected it, mind. I think you’re incredibly brave.’

  ‘Oh Sylvia, please don’t you start. I’ve had about as much as I can take for one day. Patrick told me I look older.’

  ‘Men, honestly.’ Sylvia, with one of her sudden shifts, was suddenly supportive. ‘I’ve been married four times and never yet found a man who could say the right thing at the right time.’ She cocked her head. ‘You look grown up. That’s what he meant. You used to drift around like a slightly wrinkled schoolgirl, as if life was something puzzling but potentially amusing. Now you look like a woman. About time. Anyway, I do think you’re brave but I would have gone for it without a second thought in your place. Carpe diem.’

  She stood up as Matilda came through into the conservatory and, not noticing them, walked to the far end.

  ‘I’ll leave you to your hand-holding. Just remember, nothing is forever, enjoy yourself. And don’t overthink things.’

  ‘Thanks, Sylvia. Every now and then you do come through with good advice. When does Matilda leave on her cruise?’

  ‘She’s away Tuesday, and I’ve decided I can’t face any more bloody cold. I’m off to Barbados on Friday. There’s hardly going to be a soul left here over Christmas. Not going away?’

  ‘No, but maybe next year.’

  Sylvia nodded and walked away and Edge found herself idly wondering why she and the other three stayed put over the winter. Hardly anyone else did. The Lawns grew increasingly deserted as the weather became colder, with barely half a dozen residents last year for the actual festive season. Vivian used to go back to Africa every other Christmas and should, with her beleaguered lungs. Edge hadn’t returned to Africa since Alistair’s death but now, as the rain lashed onto the glass roof from a cold grey sky, she had a sudden warming vision of sun-baked veld stretching to the horizon, acacia trees offering a tiny scrap of shade to basking lionesses, a distant elephant or two, the nearby smell and crackle of a braai hissing and spitting as beer was judicially trickled onto the flames. . .

  Donald had his mobile phone to his ear when he finally returned, and was looking concerned. ‘Oh aye, of course we will,’ he told the phone. ‘And we can keep him overnight, as well. It’
ll be fine.’

  He ended the call, sat carefully so as not to slop his cup of tea, and glanced across at Edge.

  ‘That was William. Vivian’s upstairs in Frail Care. He says he can take Buster in but can’t walk him, so I said we’d manage between us, no problem.’

  ‘Oh, poor Vivian and her bronchitis! I was this minute thinking she shouldn’t be here in winter!’

  ‘Not bronchitis. Pneumonia. Ironically she didn’t seem to have bronchitis as badly as usual, then this morning she woke with the whole package and hit her panic button. Sit. William’s just left, she’s sleeping, you can’t see her.’

  ‘But pneumonia’s a killer!’ Edge’s eyes were enormous with horror and he shook his head at her reprovingly.

  ‘Keep the head, Edge. Bad enough William running round in panicky circles. She’ll be fine, it’s a mild case. I know she has bad lungs but she’s strong and healthy. It got picked up straight away, and Matron wouldn’t be keeping her here if she thought she should be in hospital.’ He drank his tea, watching her over the rim of the cup and she shook her head distractedly.

  ‘My first husband died of pneumonia. It also seemed like nothing at the start.’

  ‘James was recovering from cancer. Chemo pneumonia can be a bugger.’ Donald was stern. ‘And that was years ago. Treatment leaps ahead all the time. She’ll be okay. A week in Frail Care at most, I promise. Now, ask me why Patrick made me walk him out.’

  She tried to smile. ‘To tell you if you hurt me he would hunt you down? That’s what Seb said to me.’

  He grinned. ‘Did he really? And yes. Not quite as dramatic, mind. Nice to know our friends don’t trust us to behave towards each other. Do you want to scrub going to the play tonight? I know you weren’t really looking forward to it, but I enjoy your lateral view on things. We can go another time.’

  ‘I’d rather be here. I’m feeling the biggest heel on earth. I’ve been thinking about Vivian all day, but I had an early lunch with Jayenthi and Olga and then came here instead of going to see her. And I haven’t done much work today. I can put in an hour or two while I’m waiting for her to wake up.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ He stood and offered her a hand to get up. ‘I’ll stay and stop you bashing yourself up unless you’d really rather be writing. I’ll walk both dogs before I go. At least with both of them I know you’ll be safe until I get back.’

  ‘I think I’d be safe anyway. I’m beginning to think this is a mare’s nest and we’re so used to seeing plots and intrigues everywhere that we invent them.’

  ‘Don’t give up, I’m sure we’ll have a murder to sort out soon enough. Phone Kirsty to reassure her about Patrick. I’m glad that was a mare’s nest, anyway.’

  ~~~

  ‘I’m glad you phoned, and very glad to hear Patrick checked out. Poor Vivian! But Donald’s right, pneumonia’s nothing like the pig it was.’

  ‘I know. I also know I have the most profound feeling of dread and I won’t shake it until she’s safely home again.’ Edge tried to laugh but it wasn’t a very good attempt. ‘You know me and my gloomy forebodings. I hate them sometimes. So it looks like we all got our knickers in a twist over nothing with this latest mystery, doesn’t it? I think we’ve become conspiracy addicts.’

  ‘Not entirely nothing,’ Kirsty said cautiously. ‘That photograph business was seriously creepy. And your Thomas Morrison isn’t a man you want to keep company with socially. I did a bit more digging after we spoke and he’s an oddity, no visible means of support. Doesn’t draw benefits, has a bank account with a minimal balance registered to Joey’s address, which is also the home address he gave to the Lawns. What forty-year-old man lives with his uncle and aunt? The invisible man. He’s on our records for one fairly unsavoury incident a couple of years ago, when a few men he was with got a little carried away, as he charmingly puts it, with a couple of women they met through a sex club. The women pressed charges. They freely admitted they joined the party but it turned into full-on multiple rape and was very nasty indeed, put them both in hospital and one nearly died. It was touch and go for a while. However, they both say he wasn’t behind the worst of it, and he finally managed to stop the others and call for an ambulance. He said he didn’t know the other men other than by their first names. Honour amongst rapists. You know what a grey area it becomes when women put themselves into high risk situations and yes-yes becomes no-no, so the case never got much further, although it’s still open. But I’d avoid him.’

  ‘I have every intention of avoiding him,’ Edge assured her. ‘But the invisible man bit almost supports the Simon Henderson link.’

  ‘Well, they both worked for the same giant banking group at the same time ten years ago, so they can’t be the same man. Thomas left there, and left banking, to go into corporate finance—not very successfully, to judge by his employment history. The last job on record before he turned invisible was selling second-hand cars. He still does a bit of that, but not enough to live on unless he does it for cash and doesn’t declare the income. Simon, on the other hand, was doing quite well until about two years ago when he suddenly dropped out of sight for a few months. He sent an email to his employers resigning on grounds of stress, with immediate effect. He joined Saltire Standard about six months later. They’re not the biggest bank, they must have been glad to get someone with his experience and credentials. I’ve been hearing rumours they’re about to be bought by his original employers, so he’ll be back on track after his little career detour.’

  ‘Kirsty, you’re remarkably good at this!’ Edge said admiringly and her niece laughed modestly.

  ‘I do enjoy it. I always thought Iain was brilliant at investigative polis work but I’ve been working on the Bentwood case with some of the best in the Force and it is breath-taking what you can learn by thinking a bit laterally and digging. Not only our records, but through social media and the internet. Every day a school day. Chin up, Edge, and say hello to Vivian for me. Honestly, she’ll be fine.’

  Chapter 11 – Monday

  December 23rd Two weeks later

  ‘You look like hell,’ Vivian said faintly and Edge, who had been staring bleakly into space, looked down, her dark-circled eyes brightening.

  ‘Oh, that’s nice. First sensible thing you say in weeks and you’re picking on my appearance? You’ve looked better yourself, must be said.’

  ‘Weeks? I feel as weak as a cat. What happened, was I in an accident?’

  ‘You had pneumonia, don’t you remember?’

  ‘Yes, but,’ Vivian shifted restlessly, ‘I was better. I was going home.’

  ‘Because you insisted, but you were still a bit spacey. Matron didn’t like it, she was watching you like a hawk. There was no obvious problem and you seemed better, but she overrode William’s protests and had you brought in here to hospital. If she hadn’t, when the crisis hit it might have been too late. You’ve been,’ Edge’s voice cracked slightly, ‘you’ve been really ill, for two weeks. Completely away with the fairies, you didn’t know any of us. For over a week it was touch and go. Then you went to sleep, nearly four days ago. They told us two days ago you were completely out of danger, but it would be best if you woke up by yourself. You took your time about it.’

  Vivian lay quietly against her pillows, absorbing the news, then managed a smile. ‘You must have been terrified, I know you have a phobia about pneumonia.’

  ‘Yes, well. Not only me.’ Edge blinked away sudden tears and smiled back. ‘William’s a basket case. Donald collected him to force him to eat some lunch not half an hour ago. So if you promise to stay awake, let’s get you looking more yourself for when he comes back in.’

  ‘William having to be forced to eat. That’s a first. And talking of eating. . .’ Vivian let Edge pull her into more of a sitting position, putting more pillows behind her. ‘I am really hungry. Oh, look, I’ve got a flat tummy! Cancel the food.’

  ‘Idiot. And yes, you’ve lost pounds and pounds. So has poor William. I’ll get some chick
en soup from the nurses’ station, there’s a semi-permanent pot of it there, I’ve been living on the stuff. It’s totally illegal, but not too bad. Don’t fall asleep again, I’ll be but a moment.’

  Vivian was gently prodding her face with her fingers when she returned, and started on the soup with good appetite but gave up with a sigh after half a cup.

  ‘Enough. Maybe more later. Did you phone them yet, let them know I’m awake? Because I’d rather see a mirror, see the damage, before he comes in. Do you have any makeup with you?’

  ‘Of course I do, and a sexy little bed jacket when you’re feeling better, but for now I’ve also brought a pretty fluffy thing to put round your neck and shoulders. Let me brush your hair. The nurses and I have been keeping it neat at the front but the back’s a bit Amy Winehouse. Here’s a mirror. Don’t be alarmed; you’re absolutely fine now and we’ll have you blooming in no time.’

  Vivian examined her reflection and handed the mirror back without comment, tilting her face up so Edge could do some running repairs and apply light makeup.

  ‘My teeth feel horrible. I should have brushed them before you started.’

  ‘Oh, I brought some of that teeth-cleaning gum as well. Start chewing. Frankly you could look like death warmed up, covered in boils and with green teeth, and William would still think you looked beautiful as long as your eyes were open. He adores you, did you know?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’ Vivian looked up at her a bit shyly. ‘He tells me often enough. It’s rather nice. Even nicer to know he really meant it when the chips were down. How’s Donald?’

  ‘I don’t think we would have held it together without him.’ Edge gave a little shiver and gave Vivian the mirror again. ‘Better?’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s more me. And look at my cheekbones, they haven’t stuck out like that for thirty years! Thanks for the scarf thing, I wasn’t crazy about the scraggy throat. You can phone them now.’

  ‘Let the poor man eat.’ Edge smiled down at her. ‘Try more of the soup. I’ve got to text your kids. They were on standby for flights for three days when you were sickest, both families, but this time of year, no chance. I promised I’d let them know as soon as you finally woke.’ She frowned over her mobile phone, tapping out a few words, then sent the SMS and looked up. ‘Vivian. Soup.’