The Tides of Change

by Joanna Rees

  ‘Maybe.’ His accent was American, hard to place, his voice gravelly and uncaring.

  ‘There’s a plaque outside. It says these are the offices.’

  ‘I can’t help you,’ the man said.

  Emma bristled at his lack of manners. It was time to get to the point. ‘But you know of Platinum Reach?’

  The man held up his chubby hand to stop her. He was wearing a gaudy ring on his little finger with a ruby set in gold.

  ‘Please,’ Emma persisted. ‘My husband, Julian Harvey is – was – a director. It’s his company.’

  The man’s expression altered at the mention of Julian’s name. His eyes narrowed, sparking with interest. Or was it wariness? He must know Julian. They must have met. Did he know what had happened?

  ‘I need some information,’ she hurried on, keen to press home her advantage. ‘You see, a lot of money came through here and I need to know where the money went. I mean to which account when it left here.’

  ‘You got power of attorney?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Because if you haven’t, I can’t tell you anything, lady,’ he stonewalled her.

  ‘But I’m his wife.’

  ‘Let me tell you, you wouldn’t be the first wife to come snooping round here trying to find out where the money went.’

  ‘So you do know something? Does that mean you know the directors?’ she probed.

  ‘It makes no difference what I know. I can’t tell you. Everything and everyone I deal with is confidential.’ He turned back to his papers. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.’

  Emma felt her voice crack with desperation. ‘Please,’ she begged. ‘I need your help. I’ve come here all the way from London. You have to tell me . . .’

  The man rocked back in his chair. ‘I don’t have to tell you diddly squat.’

  How dare he be so rude! Emma felt her patience snap. She was getting nowhere. ‘Fine. I’ll get a lawyer to do this, if that’s what you want. I can get someone to investigate Platinum Reach, all these other companies . . . and you.’

  The man shrugged, unfazed by her threat. He leant forward and stubbed his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray, then took his cell phone from his jacket pocket and laid it on the desk, like a gun. His fingers never left it. The implication was obvious. If she didn’t clear out, he had people he could call to make her go away before she started any trouble. ‘I’m going to count to ten . . .’

  ‘I’ll stay here for as long as it takes for you to tell me the truth.’ She could tell her stern tone shocked him. It shocked her too. How strong she sounded. How determined.

  Slowly, he leant back in his chair, looking her up and down. ‘My, my,’ he said, whistling through his teeth. Then he smiled – a thin, mean curling of the lips. ‘Ain’t you a feisty one?’

  Emma opened her mouth to protest.

  ‘Watch it there, honey. It’s too early in the morning for dramatics.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’ll tell you what. Seeing as how you’ve come such a long way, and how much this seems to mean to you, perhaps I might see my way to coming to some sort of arrangement after all.’

  ‘You mean you will help me?’ Emma said, taken aback by this seeming volte-face.

  The man rubbed his fat hands together and looked her lingeringly up and down. Emma felt her skin flush and sudden adrenalin pump through her. She glanced quickly at the closed windows.

  ‘What I’m suggesting . . . yes, seeing as we’re all alone . . . is that we indulge in a little asset information. I let you in on a little information regarding Platinum Reach, then you allow me to . . . familiarize myself with your assets.’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking.’

  ‘I never joke about business.’ His eyes glinted with menace.

  Emma stared at him with revulsion and horror. He couldn’t be serious, could he? But as she stared at the fixed smile, she knew that he was. She watched him flick his tongue over his yellow teeth, waiting for her answer. Daring her.

  She had to take control, she thought, panicking, before he took control of her. She had to remember why she was here and that he had the information she desperately needed – maybe enough to solve the mystery of Julian’s death. Certainly enough to send her on the next part of the trail that might lead to that solution.

  She swallowed hard and stared once more into his dark, unblinking eyes. She knew what she had to do. She had no choice. And she no longer had anything left to lose.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, walking round the side of the desk. She held his eye as she slowly unbuttoned the top button of her shirt. This was all just an act, she reminded herself, but if this was the way he was going to play it, she’d set the rules. ‘If a lady has to do what a lady has to do, I guess I don’t mind . . .’

  He laughed, as if unable to believe that she was cooperating so easily. She continued slowly, unbuttoning her shirt a little more, until her lacy black bra was showing against her pale smooth skin.

  She stopped, just out of reach, leaning both hands on the desk so that he could see a tiny glimpse of her cleavage. ‘But you go first,’ she said.

  ‘Kind of like strip poker,’ he said. His eyes were bulging. A small white cluster of spit lodged in his lip. ‘I show you mine, you show me yours.’

  ‘Kind of like that.’ She watched him unfasten his belt. ‘But you know, if we’re going to get . . . um . . . intimate . . . surely you should at least tell me your name?’

  ‘Vincent. Vincent Detroy,’ he said, staring at her bra.

  She smiled, playing the game. She could tell he was eager. Too eager. Ready to be undone by his filthy desires.

  ‘So, Vinny, tell me something. You’re a bit of a hot shot, aren’t you? Running all these companies? Or do you own them?’

  He smiled, running his tongue around his filthy teeth. ‘They ain’t mine.’

  ‘Oh?’ Emma tiptoed her fingers across the desk towards him. She stared into his eyes.

  ‘Most of them are subsidiaries of Matryoshka-Enterprises,’ he said, unzipping his fly in a hurry, desperate to claim her before she changed her mind. ‘And you’re shit out of luck. The sole director of them all is coming tomorrow to shut ’em all down.’ He tapped his computer screen. ‘Got all the paperwork lined up to be signed.’

  ‘Matryoshka-Enterprises? Does that have anything to do with Platinum Reach?’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’

  Emma smiled. ‘Oh, come on, Vinny. You can tell me. Why don’t you tell me the director’s name?’

  ‘Not a chance. Until you come right over here.’

  ‘I can find out, if you won’t tell me.’

  Vincent Detroy laughed. ‘No you won’t. Once he’s signed, there’ll be no trace of any companies here. There’ll be nothing here but bricks. So the best advice I can give you, lady, is to get on with the rest of your life. Starting right now, right here.’

  Emma was pleased she’d made her decision. It had been the right one. She hadn’t trusted Detroy as far as she could throw him. There was no way this low life would ever or could ever have laid one fat finger on her.

  She stood up and backed away, buttoning up her shirt.

  ‘Hey?’ Detroy said. He had his hand in his fly. ‘Where you think you’re going?’ He stood up. He had his stubby, revolting cock in his hand and his cheap suit trousers fell around his ankles, preventing him from running after her.

  ‘Oh, put it away,’ she said, fixing him with a withering look.

  ‘But . . . but . . . we had a deal!’ he spluttered.

  ‘Believe me, Mr Detroy, you have absolutely nothing of interest to me whatsoever. Good day.’

  Emma walked quickly through the door and slammed it as hard as she could. She hated the fact she’d had to stoop to the tactics of a whore to get what she wanted, but they had worked. She ran down the stairs and out on to the street.

  Hot rain hammered down on the ferry landing dock. Low thunder rumbled out in the bay. Rufu
s, David’s groundsman, crouched down beside the table where Emma, David and Eli sat in the Jolly Roger bar in Soper’s Hole. Rufus’s huge black biceps shone beneath his white T-shirt as he petted Louis, David’s Labrador, who whined as another fork of lightning split the grey sky.

  ‘Easy, boy,’ David said to his beloved dog. Emma thought that David looked more stressed today than usual, his easy grin replaced by a worried frown. He’d certainly dropped everything to help her as soon as he’d heard the news about Julian. Emma knew that losing Julian had hit him hard. And now David couldn’t be more determined for her to prove her theory right about Julian being set up.

  Eli was Tortola’s police chief. He’d come as a favour to David, to see if there was any way of forcing Vincent Detroy to tell them more about what he knew. Eli had got caught in the downpour on the way over from his office. He was wearing khaki long shorts and flip-flops and a soaking Hawaiian print shirt.

  Emma hadn’t told Eli or David about the trick she’d pulled to loosen Detroy’s tongue. She was still horrified by her encounter with him. Just the thought of what he’d proposed made her skin crawl. And in retrospect she was amazed too. Amazed that someone as disgusting as Detroy could have thought she’d give herself to him, just like that. It was unbelievable. One thing was absolutely clear, Vincent Detroy had absolutely no scruples.

  ‘So what do you know about him?’ David asked.

  ‘Detroy? Well, he describes himself as attorney-at-law,’ Eli said, folding one flip-flopped foot on to his knee. ‘One-man band. Specializes in offshore accounts. Holding companies.’

  ‘Tax avoidance,’ David explained to Emma. ‘If American or European companies register here, they save themselves a hell of a lot of money. All they need is a plaque and an attorney with enough paperwork to show that the company is registered here.’

  ‘But isn’t that illegal?’ Emma asked. ‘All those millions running through here unregulated?’

  Eli smiled. ‘There are regulations. Just a lot fewer of them. Less red tape. But these companies still abide by the British Virgin Islands’ law. That’s what Detroy does. He dots the i’s and crosses the t’s. Files the accounts and makes it look as if it’s all above board. We’re subject to money-laundering laws here, the same as anywhere else. But Detroy’s good at what he does. He might not break the law, but he does bend it. As far as he can.’

  Emma cut to the chase. ‘Surely you must be able to get a warrant or something so that we could search the offices and the accounts.’

  ‘Not unless you’ve got hard evidence that the law has been broken, by him, here on the island. Otherwise there’s no way a judge is going to give a warrant.’

  ‘But all the money that was in Platinum Reach, it was stolen.’

  ‘So you say. And for what it’s worth, I believe you. But my answer’s the same. Unless you can get me proof, there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry,’ he said, turning to David, ‘I really am.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’ Emma asked after Eli had gone. ‘I’m sure there’s a link between Platinum Reach and Matryoshka-Enterprises. Think about it, it sounds Russian. And if the director of Matryoshka-Enterprises is coming tomorrow . . .’

  ‘. . . then I think we should keep watch on the building. See who’s going in and out of there,’ David said.

  ‘I’ll stay in the café opposite,’ Emma volunteered.

  ‘You can’t stay all day,’ David said. ‘Not in this weather.’

  ‘I’ll stay day and night. I don’t care,’ Emma replied.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Rufus said, standing up to his full height of six feet five. His voice was deep, yet soft. ‘No one will notice if I’m hanging around.’

  ‘I think it’s a good idea, Emma. You’re exhausted,’ David reasoned. ‘Let Rufus keep a lookout. As soon as anything happens, he can call us.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Emma asked.

  ‘I’m sure. I want you to go back to the house. You need some rest.’

  Emma smiled weakly at him. He was right, of course, but she’d rather be there herself. Would someone really turn up at the offices? she wondered. Someone who could give her the information she needed? She couldn’t believe she had no legal recourse to get at the information on that computer. In spite of all those millions that had been lost. The thought of poor Pim and all the other investors; a low-life toad like Detroy was getting away with murder. Literally.

  Well, perhaps it was time she stopped playing by the rules, Emma thought as she stared at the distant lightning. Perhaps it was time she prepared herself to fight fire with fire.

  Much later that night, Emma sat in the corner of the old snooker room on the low sofa with David, beneath a copper hanging light. A fan whirred beside them cooling the humid air. Louis lay curled up at their feet, gently snoring.

  On the glass chess table beside them was a bottle of Balvenie, Julian’s favourite single malt whisky, two tumblers and a pile of battered photo albums. Ella Fitzgerald played on the sound system. Emma had begged David not to play the songs that reminded her so much of Julian, but David had decided that some nostalgia would be good for them both, to banish the disappointment of their meeting with Eli and to get them back to themselves.

  David poured another finger of whisky into Emma’s glass.

  ‘I’m getting pissed,’ she said with a sniff.

  ‘So am I,’ David said. ‘Julian would approve.’

  Emma let out a weary laugh. ‘I can’t believe you kept these photos.’ She stroked the photo of her, David and Julian, and a whole gang of other people at a yacht regatta twenty years ago. Cosmo was just a boy, laughing as David held him high on his shoulder, a trophy in his hand. ‘And what’s even more unbelievable is that you put them into albums.’

  ‘Why’s that unbelievable?’ David asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d have had the time. Too busy partying.’

  ‘You may disapprove of my lifestyle, Emma, but some things are precious and worth preserving. Like pictures of all my favourite people. Good memories are what it’s all about.’

  ‘Are you telling me that underneath it all you’re an old softie?’

  David pulled a face at her over the rim of his glass. ‘You found me out.’

  Emma smiled at him, feeling a surge of affection. She knew how hard he’d taken Julian’s death and how much he was looking out for her.

  ‘I don’t even know where my photo albums are any more,’ Emma said. She rubbed her face. ‘It’s all such a mess. When I think about all the ones of Cosmo as a baby . . .’

  She trailed off, tears overwhelming her again. David moved in closer next to her and put his arms around her. He kissed her hair as she cried.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be.’

  ‘Ugh. It’s just so damn painful.’

  ‘It won’t be for ever,’ David said.

  She looked up at him sharply. ‘But don’t you see? I don’t want the pain to stop. If it does, then it’ll mean I’ve got used to him being gone. And I never want to do that. I never want it to be normal that he’s not here any more. Or OK that I’ll sleep alone every night now for the rest of my life. I can’t bear it. I can’t.’ She buried her head back in his shoulder, shuddering as tears ran down her face.

  ‘Shh,’ David soothed, stroking her hair.

  It felt so good to be held. To be comforted and protected. This was how Julian had always made her feel: safe and loved. But at the same time she knew that David wasn’t Julian. They were just friends and she was too old to be relying on him like this. He had no magic wand: he couldn’t bring Julian back, couldn’t turn back time. She pulled away from him and took a deep breath, forcing herself to smile.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m ruining this. We’re supposed to be thinking happy thoughts. Remembering the good times.’

  ‘That was the plan,’ David said, pouring her more whisky.

  ‘OK,’ Emma said, pulling herself together. ‘So tell me what you remember about hi
m.’ Would that help? Would talking about the wonderful man Julian had been make her stop thinking about his death? Well, it was certainly worth a try.

  ‘So many things. Mostly that he was always so much better than me at everything,’ David said with a sad laugh. ‘I don’t think I even beat him at tennis.’

  ‘You were always much better at chasing women,’ Emma teased with a smile. It still felt good to have David’s arm around her. She leant back against him and felt herself relax.

  ‘But he was the one who always caught them and kept them. He managed to keep the best one, anyway.’

  David paused. Emma took a sip of whisky, lingering as she looked at the bottom of the glass, amazed that he’d raised a subject they’d never discussed on their own before.

  ‘You know, Ems, you could always stay here. I mean, if you wanted to. My door is always open. This could be your home too.’

  Emma could hear the sincerity in his voice. ‘That’s very sweet of you, darling, but I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.’

  ‘You’re the last person in the world who could do that.’ David’s voice was so tender that Emma looked up. She could see how serious he was. ‘You don’t have to say anything, or commit to anything,’ David hurried on. ‘Only I want you to know that the offer is there.’

  There was a beat as they stared at one another, but David’s telephone rang and he quickly got up to answer it. As he did, Emma realized how woozy the whisky had made her. She watched David talking. She was unsure of what the moment just now had meant. Was he offering her friendship? Or had he meant something more than that? Had he really been carrying a torch for her all these years? Could he still find her attractive? Even now?

  He turned to face her. ‘That was Rufus,’ he said.

  Emma felt as if she’d just been thrown into an icy lake. ‘What’s going on? Has anyone been in or out of there?’

  ‘No. He rang to tell us that he thinks someone else is watching the building too.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Frankie watched a road sign whizz past. They were speeding out of Road Town along the coast road. The huge black guy sitting beside Frankie in the front of the jeep had introduced himself as Rufus.