by Tricia Jones
“I’d like to speak to your father alone,” Saul said. “Just for a moment.”
Mia crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin in his direction. “Not happening.”
Armstrong moved across to his daughter. “This is a private matter.” He took Mia’s arm in a firm hold and led her to the door. “I insist you give me the courtesy of conducting a conversation without having to explain myself to you or anyone else.”
And with that Mia was bundled into the hallway. The door shut in her face and she stood there, exasperated. Seconds later, her aunt came down the hallway carrying Mia’s coat. “Put this on.”
Mia shook her head. “He just slammed the door in my face.”
“Because he didn’t have any other option. Honestly, Mia, you need to calm down. Now put this on and come with me.”
Mia noted that her aunt hadn’t yet taken off her own coat. “Where are we going?”
“Out,” was all Sylvia said as Mia shrugged into her coat. “And don’t even think of arguing.”
It would be a futile exercise anyway, Mia thought, following her aunt down the steps and into the street. It didn’t happen very often that her aunt played the power game, but when she did nobody argued with her. Even her father slinked away when Aunt Sylvia was in one of her determined moods.
They walked down the quiet residential street and out into the flow of foot traffic that led toward the park. Neither spoke until Sylvia went toward a café/bar situated on the edge of the leafy green. “Why are we going in here?”
“We’re going to have afternoon tea together,” Sylvia said, patiently. “Now find a table while I go to the ladies room.”
She didn’t want afternoon tea, she wanted to get back to the house and find out what Saul and her father were talking about, but she dutifully found a table and accepted the menu from a young waitress.
While she waited for her aunt to return, Mia pulled out her phone, tempted to call Saul. He wouldn’t answer, she knew that, and it made her temper hike again. How dare they? How dare her father push her out of the room like a recalcitrant child? And how dare Saul demand he speak with her father alone?
Like it had nothing to do with her. Hell. She was surrounded by bloody alpha males who thought they could beat their chests and run the little woman out of the scene to go enjoy her domestic frivolities. Afternoon tea, for God’s sake.
By the time her aunt returned, Mia was positively seething. “He’s being unreasonable.”
“Give him some leeway.” Sylvia examined the menu. “He’s under pressure right now.”
Mia’s heartbeat kicked up. If her father was stressed for some reason, it was even more important that she knew what was going on. “What kind of pressure?”
“A few things he needs to sort through.”
Because her aunt wouldn’t give her eye contact, Mia guessed this was yet another smoke screen. “You know something.”
“I know a lot of things.”
Mia leaned across the table. “You of all people should know how I feel.”
With deliberate ease, Sylvia put down the menu and clasped her hands together on the table. She looked straight at her niece. “And how is that, my darling?”
“I’d have to be an idiot not to realize that whatever is stressing Dad has something to do with me. In which case I have a right to know and be involved in whatever decision-making process is going on. He won’t even tell me the name of this man who’s been sending me the notes. And now Saul is acting all suspiciously and pushing me out of the scene, too.”
That was perhaps the most mysterious thing so far. Up until he’d arrived at her house, he’d been on her side. What could have changed in the short journey from his place to hers?
“Your father is doing what he feels he needs to do in order to protect you. It’s been his job since the moment you were born, so I doubt he plans to stop now. As for Saul, you’ll have to talk to him about that.”
“But you know, don’t you? You know what they’re talking about right now?”
“I have no idea what they’re talking about at this moment. Now what would you like to order?”
Since the waitress had arrived, Mia lost the immediate opportunity to grill her aunt further. Not that she intended to let it go. “Just tea.”
“Tea for two, please,” Sylvia said. “And bring a couple of scones with jam and cream, if you would.”
“Did you know that Dad knew Roger Colcannon?”
Sylvia raised her eyebrows, but she wasn’t that good an actress so Mia saw right through the feigned surprise. “The politician?” She shook her head. “Well, it’s hardly surprising. Your father moves in the same eminent circles, I would imagine.”
“And yet he’s never mentioned him. Not even with all the current buzz about Colcannon becoming the next Prime Minister. Come to think of it, you haven’t been drawn into talking about politics lately.”
In fact, Mia had missed the lively discussions over the dinner table with her aunt. Because Sylvia always had such a good argument to make, Mia often put herself in conflict with her aunt’s views even though she actually agreed with her. Like her father, Aunt Sylvia just wouldn’t back down when she believed in something, and her informed argument could persuade almost anyone over to her side.
“Since it’s unlikely Colcannon’s party will be elected,” Sylvia responded. “I don’t see there’s much to discuss on the political scene at the moment.”
Which was complete and utter bullshit, to use Saul’s term. Lack of meaty things to discuss rarely discouraged her aunt from voicing her opinion. Sensing she was on to something, Mia refused to let the topic drop. “Do you know Colcannon?”
“Not personally.”
Again, no eye contact. Why was it everyone refused to meet her gaze when she asked probing questions? “I haven’t only been receiving notes,” she said, keeping her attention firmly on her aunt to gauge her response. “I also received an item of jewelry. It was delivered to me at the university.”
“Jewelry?”
Come on Aunt. You can do better than that. “A ring. From the Calypso collection.”
Her aunt remained silent, smiling at the waitress as their tea arrived. She busied herself arranging the cups as the waitress placed the teapot and milk on the table. Another waitress brought the scones, complete with jam and cream.
“These look delicious.” Sylvia slid a plate in front of Mia. “I’m sure you can manage one.”
“What’s strange,” Mia continued, ignoring the scone. “Is that the last registered owner of the apparently very expensive ring was Roger Colcannon.”
“What a coincidence.”
“So I’m putting two and two together here,” Mia went on, still watching her aunt closely. “And I’m coming up with Colcannon sending me that ring because it has something to do with Dad.”
“If you’re right, then it’s their business.”
“It involves me, which makes it mine.” Her aunt didn’t reply, but poured the tea. Impatiently, Mia went on. “Saul saw them meet last Friday. He took a photograph, so don’t even try and convince me he must have been mistaken. It was Dad, I saw it.”
“As I said, they likely move in the same circles. Now drink your tea and have a scone.”
Her aunt’s tone signaled she had slipped into stonewalling mode, and Mia knew from experience the futility of pressing further when that happened. Sylvia was fiercely loyal to her brother and wild horses couldn’t drag information from her unless she was willing to give it.
Mia drank the tea but refused the scone. Her head ached, her stomach felt heavy, but she wasn’t about to let things drop. While she felt a little calmer, she still wanted answers, and when she got home and confronted her father again, she would get them.
****
Despite her pounding head, Mia entered the house in full fight mode. She was surprised to find her father waiting in his study with the door open, and even more surprised when he called to her.
&nb
sp; Mia shrugged out of her coat. “Where’s Saul?”
“He left.”
Disappointment pushed through her, but since she was mad at him she refused to dwell on it. “I suppose you’re about to say that you won’t be telling me what you two talked about.” Mia dropped her coat over the back of a leather armchair.
“Sit down,” Armstrong said, waiting until Mia obeyed before continuing. “Mr. O’Donnell told me he knows about the notes and the ring you’ve received. He also told me about the man who’s been following you for some time.” He crossed one leg over the other and steepled his fingers. “The man was doing so at my request.”
“What?” Well, that was one of the last things she’d expected to hear. “You had me followed—why?”
“A precautionary measure, and perhaps a little overzealous of me. But I didn’t want to take any chances, especially after you were mugged. Mr. O’Donnell told me in confidence that he’s here in London to follow up on a story about Roger Colcannon. His paper received an anonymous tip that the man misappropriated party funds several years ago and he’s been assigned to see if there’s any mileage in further investigating the issue. It’s purely coincidental that Mr. O’Donnell’s business here interweaved with ours. One of those quirks of fate, if you like.”
“So how does it affect us?”
He took a breath, as if planning his words carefully. “Many years ago I was involved with Colcannon in a personal matter, which I won’t be divulging to you. Please don’t argue with me or press me on this, Mia, I won’t be pushed into revealing private matters.”
She gave a reluctant nod.
“Colcannon has held a grudge and now wants to pay me back after all these years. He chose to hit me in the place I’m most vulnerable.” He met her eyes. “You.”
“It was him who sent me the notes?”
Armstrong hesitated, but then nodded. “He wanted me to know that he could get to you, unnerve you, and in the process get to me.”
“He was responsible for the mugging?”
“He arranged for it to happen, yes. Which is why I asked an ex-colleague from Scotland Yard to keep an eye on you.”
“You thought I’d get mugged again?”
“No, but I took steps to make sure you were protected.”
Mia thought for a moment. She’d never noticed anyone, and it was weird that she’d never had a sense of being watched. “Saul knew,” she said with a kind of pride. “He knew we were being followed.”
Armstrong gave a wry grin. “According to Laurence, Mr. O’Donnell latched on to him almost immediately. The young man seems to be good at his job, although at one point I did consider that he might be working for Roger Colcannon. He wasn’t too happy when I accused him of the same.”
Mia’s eyes widened. “You accused Saul of being part of all this?”
Armstrong shrugged. “Thought the timing seemed off. O’Donnell comes on the scene right at the time all this started. He was with you when you were mugged, and since then has been very much a constant companion.”
Mia felt her face flush at her father’s last comment, but she looked him straight in the eye. “He has nothing to do with it.”
“I know that now. And I apologized to him during our meeting this afternoon.”
“So why did he leave? Why didn’t he wait until I came home?”
“Because I asked him to allow me some time with you. I wanted to explain all this.”
Mia nodded, although she couldn’t shrug off her disappointment. “What made you realize he wasn’t involved?”
“He saw me meet with Colcannon. Took a bloody photograph, if you please.” Mia wanted to smile at her father’s exasperation, but she was too busy trying to piece all this together. “I realized that if he’d been doing Colcannon’s bidding, there was no reason for him to question me quite so vehemently about my involvement with the man.”
“Why were you meeting with Colcannon?”
“To put an end to the matter. To make him stop using you to get to me. He now knows there’s no longer any mileage in it.”
The facts spun around in her head. “So this rejected admirer explanation wasn’t true? Nor was the police being involved?”
Armstrong grimaced. “I’m not proud of lying to you. There was no rejected admirer. But in a manner of speaking the police were involved. Laurence.”
“I think I deserve to know what happened between you and Colcannon,” Mia pressed even though she knew her father wouldn’t budge on the issue.
As expected, he shook his head. “There’s no need for that.” He averted his gaze and tapped on his thigh. “Since everything is now out in the open, all this should now die down.”
“Laurence won’t be following me any more?”
It was a weird feeling having your every step monitored. Even if it had been for her own good and she understood her father’s reasoning, it still gave her the creeps.
“For a few more days, just to satisfy me.” He looked back at her. “If you receive anything further in the way of notes or gifts, I want you to pass them straight to me.”
“Which means you don’t really think this is over.”
He gave a heavy sigh. “Colcannon advised me that the process of sending you items was set up in advance and that more notes or gifts might perhaps find their way to you as the process winds down.”
Which didn’t seem entirely plausible. She had a bad feeling things were far from over, but that her father wanted her to believe it so badly he was prepared to enter into all this subterfuge and sidestepping. It was so not the type of relationship she shared with him and she hated that this had driven a wedge between them.
“There’s still one thing that’s puzzling me in all this.”
Armstrong tapped his thigh. “Which is?”
“The ring? It was from the Calypso Range.” From her father’s stony expression, she knew she didn’t need to spell out the significance of that. She’d pushed away the niggling possibility, but it just kept circling back. “Whatever happened between you and Colcannon, did it have some sort of connection with my mother collecting the jewelry?”
Armstrong remained silent.
“What about the notes? Were they meaningful in some way?”
He shrugged.
“Beloved,” Mia said. “Mine. Then there was the verse.”
Armstrong’s eyes sharpened. “What verse?”
“By Mark Twain, ‘Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.’” Mia hadn’t realized that she had it memorized, but considering how many times she’d read the verse it shouldn’t be a surprise. “Is any of that meaningful to you?”
Armstrong picked up the tumbler of whisky on the table next to his chair. “I have no idea what any of it means.”
Slowly, Mia had been piecing information together. She couldn’t shrug away the feeling that Colcannon had perhaps once pursued her mother, but that her mother had then chosen her father. Maybe that was the grudge Colcannon held over her father and was back to avenge now that his own wife had died and he was alone.
The only problem was, it simply didn’t ring true, and seemed an unlikely focus for a man with leadership of the country on his mind. Didn’t he have other things to occupy himself with, like politics and the battle for leadership? Instead she was supposed to believe he’d been hell bent on revenge against the man who had won the battle for the woman they both loved.
Oh God. Her head was thumping now and she had a driving need to speak with Saul, to run all this past him.
Instead, she sat silently for a few more moments as her father sipped his whisky. He had all but closed down, which meant she’d get nothing further from him. Mia stood and went over to his chair. “Thanks for telling me all this. I know it can’t be easy for you.” Bending, she kissed him on the forehead then walked out of the room.
She wasn’t done quite yet. She intended to quiz her aunt some more.
Chapter Sixteen
Sa
dly, the interrogation of her aunt yielded little further information. Mia pressed the issue regarding the possibility of a relationship between her mother and Roger Colcannon, but her aunt had given nothing away.
Alone at her office desk having given her first class of the week, Mia recalled how her aunt clammed up almost as soon as Mia had begun her questioning. She couldn’t blame her aunt’s reticence, considering how fiercely loyal she was to her father.
Lily breezed in. “Saul’s rung twice this morning. First to check your cell phone’s working and the second time to ask you to call when you’re free.” She placed coffee on Mia’s desk along with two sticky notes with Saul’s number written on them. Mia glanced at the notes but then placed a file of student folders on top of them. Damned if she would drop everything when he’d finally deigned to call. “Did you two have a fight?”
“Something like that.” Mia gathered papers for her next student tutorial in fifteen minutes. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Looked like you needed it.” Mia sensed Lily’s hesitation, but she also sensed that her assistant wouldn’t let this go without further grilling. “Do you think you’ll work it out?”
Mia sat back in her chair and blew out a breath. “Not sure.” She looked up at Lily, glimpsed real concern in her eyes. It would be good to get someone’s take on things, especially someone like Lily who rarely pulled any punches. “Would you stay with someone who lied to you?”
Lily pursed her lips as she leaned her hands on the back of the visitor’s chair by Mia’s desk. “Not sure. It would depend on what the lie was and why it had been necessary.”
“Apparently it was to save me worrying, and it wasn’t an outright lie as such, more like something he omitted to tell me.”
“A white lie.” Lily came around the chair to sit, her eyes soft and empathic. “That’s not as bad as a flat-out lie to your face. In my experience, the flat-out lie to your face usually involves another woman.”
“It’s nothing like that. It’s to do with that package I received the other day when Saul was here. Do you remember?” Lily nodded. “Well, Saul found out who sent it, but he kept some information from me because he didn’t think I needed to know.”
