Risky Business

by W. Soliman

  “Starting to look their age.”

  “Aren’t we all, dear.”

  Paul paused to examine his reflection in the hall mirror. About the same height as me, he could never pass a mirror by without checking on his appearance. Today, though, the mirror didn’t detain him for long. He was also less than his usual sarcastic self, leading me to suppose that he was worried about something. If he was responsible for sabotaging my beloved boat then he had good reason to be. But if he was behind my mother’s murder…I suppressed that thought. If it crept past my guard I’d lose all objectivity, and I needed to be at my sharpest in my dealings with Paul.

  How to start our conversation? Small talk was the last thing he’d expect so that was the route I took, hoping to catch him off guard.

  “Enjoying working for Hal?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “It has its compensations.”

  “Like travelling the world at someone else’s expense.”

  “Someone has to do it.”

  “True.” I looked round for a waiter, in need of something to do with my hands. Needless to say, there wasn’t one in sight.

  “So, brother-dear,” he said. “What brings you here?”

  Like he didn’t know. “Any reason why I shouldn’t come?”

  “None at all except that whenever Hal’s invited you before, he’s mentioned that you either couldn’t make it or had to cancel at the last minute.”

  “That was when I was in the job. I’ve retired now.”

  “Hmm, so I hear. And nowadays you take your house with you wherever you go, a bit like a mollusc.”

  I refused to let him rile me. “I enjoy my comforts.”

  “Goes well, does she?”

  We’d wandered outside and perched ourselves on the terrace in much the same place that Cleo and I had eaten our supper. Paul nodded toward my boat moored at the end of the garden as he posed the question. As far as I was concerned that was all the proof I needed of his guilt. He was burning to know what damage his sabotage had done.

  “Like a dream. The trip down was as smooth as silk.”

  “Go on, then,” he said a little too casually, brushing imaginary specks from his trousers with the back of his hand. “Ask me whatever it is you want to know.”

  I took my time responding, trying to read his body language without making it obvious. It didn’t tell me much. “I guess you’ve already been primed,” I said laconically.

  Paul scratched his chin and pretended to think about it. “Well, unless you’ve undergone a character transplant since giving up sleuthing for a living, I assume you’re still looking for answers about your mother’s untimely demise.”

  Up until then I’d felt in control of the situation. That in itself was something of a rarity in my dealings with Paul. But his taunting tone, his deliberate provocation, now made me want to hit him.

  I clenched my fists, aware of the indolent smile playing about his lips as I strove to remain calm. “Actually I’m not.” He snorted. “But I’d still be interested to learn why you persuaded your mother to borrow money from Marianne on your behalf.”

  “Even though you no longer care who killed your mother?”

  I flinched. “Exactly.”

  He wagged a finger at me. The nail was covered with clear varnish. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “If there’s an innocent explanation it can’t hurt to indulge my curiosity.”

  “Now isn’t that just like a policeman, always assuming the worst about everyone?”

  It was my turn to pretend indifference. “Perhaps that’s because you’ve never given me any reason to think well of you.”

  “My, my.” He placed a hand mincingly on a jutting hip. “Aren’t we the grouchy one today.” But his ostentatious display of contempt lacked bite.

  “It seems to me,” I said, staring at some of the revellers now spilling out onto the lawn, “that neither of us is enjoying this encounter. So why prolong it? Just tell me what I need to know and I’m out of here.”

  “Ah, now that is a tempting offer, but you’re wrong, little brother. Marianne didn’t lend the money to mother. She lent it to Dad.”

  He’d deliberately referred to my father in that possessive way to irritate me. Usually it worked but this time I felt implacably calm, immune to his childish attempts to rile me.

  “And he lent it to you. No,” I amended, “make that he gave it to you.” I lifted my shoulders. “You have to admit it’s enough to make anyone curious.”

  He quirked a brow. “If not resentful?”

  “Not at all. I just want to know why a kid of…what were you, twenty-one at the time?” He neither confirmed nor denied the accuracy of my maths but his amused expression showed signs of strain. “What I want to know is why a twenty-one-year-old would require such a large sum of money. I’d also quite like to know why Marianne was so keen to give it away.”

  “Yes, dear, I expect you would, but it’s none of your bloody business.”

  “Well, that’s up to you, of course.” I fell silent, staring off toward my boat with an attitude of detached indifference. Since I’d never displayed indifference when speaking about my mother it was safe to assume that his interest was piqued.

  He confirmed that suspicion by speaking first. “What strange little habits you’ve developed, darling. Going all dark and moody on me. It really is rather fetching. Such a shame you’re not gay.”

  “Have the police been to see you yet?”

  The change of subject clearly surprised him and he responded for once without putting on an act. “What do you mean?”

  “The man murdered in your building. They’ll want to speak to all the neighbours, just in case they saw anything.”

  His taunting attitude fell away and just for a moment I thought I detected genuine grief in his expression. He gathered himself quickly but still looked as though I’d thrown a bucket of cold water over him. “Well, I wasn’t there so I couldn’t have.” He paused. “But I gather you were.”

  If that was supposed to unnerve me he didn’t know me very well. “Can you prove you weren’t there?”

  “That’s what CCTV’s for.”

  “Not if you park in the garage beneath the building. There are no cameras down there.”

  He looked rattled now. “If you say so, dear.”

  “But the dead solicitor, you knew him socially?”

  “Did I?” He quirked a brow, trying to look bored, but it wasn’t working. I had his complete, undivided attention and we both knew it.

  “Rather well,” I said, enjoying myself.

  “Bullshit!”

  I’d rattled him. I felt a childish need to run circuits of the garden, punching the air and letting out delirious whoops.

  “Even so, you’d prefer not to be questioned too closely about your friendship,” I said mildly.

  “You’re way off the mark, little brother.”

  “Am I?” I paused. “I wonder if my ex-colleagues would agree?”

  He produced an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, what do you want?”

  “What I’ve always wanted. I’m not interested in any scams you had going with the dead solicitor.”

  He let out a long breath. “Why do you always think the worst of me?”

  “Because you’ve never given me any reason to think otherwise.” I met his gaze and held it. “I need to know what happened to that money. If I believe what you tell me, then there’s nothing more to be said about the other business.”

  “If you really think I spent that money on having your bitch of a mother done away with, then you’ve lost what few brain cells you used to possess.” He was speaking straight into my face, his lips twisted with malicious spite. “I’m many things, Charlie, but a coward I am not. If I’d done the world a favour by
ridding it of your mother, don’t you think I’d have done myself one at the same time and made sure you went with her?”

  “Contact me by the end of the week,” I said, letting his words wash over me. “I’ll keep the police off your back until then. But when we speak again I’ll need some answers about that money. Understood?”

  With that I turned on my heel and disappeared into the night.

  The party was in full swing, loud and raucous. In no mood to socialise, I headed for the boat. Cleo would be fine and she’d know where to find me. I was still some way off when I noticed a barefoot figure silhouetted on the aft deck, swinging her legs casually over the gunwales. I liked Cleo but right now I could do with being alone so I could figure out what precisely I’d just learned from Paul.

  “Hi,” I said. “I thought you’d want to dance the night away.”

  “Not without you.”

  “I’m not very good company right now.”

  “Was it as bad as all that, talking to Paul?” she asked, resting a hand lightly on my arm.

  “He enjoys winding me up and I always seem to let him.”

  “I find it hard to imagine anyone getting the better of you for long.”

  “I’m bushed,” I said, turning to unlock the salon and trying not to look at her. It wasn’t easy because I liked looking at her. Gil came bounding out and made a beeline for Cleo. She ruffled his ears and made cooing noises. Gil lapped it up and then rolled on his back for more. “I’m too old for all this hell-raising so I’m gonna turn in.”

  “Surely you’ve got enough energy for a nightcap.”

  “No, really I—”

  “Charlie, don’t make me beg.”

  I knew when I was beaten so I headed for the drinks cabinet and poured us both hefty measures of brandy.

  She stood to take her glass from me. “I didn’t know you could play the piano like that. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t play much anymore.”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about jazz but it sounded pretty good to me. Everyone was talking about it.”

  “That was a nasty trick you played on me.”

  “Sorry!” She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “It was Gloria’s idea. She said if you knew what she was planning, you wouldn’t have gone anywhere near that room.” My expression must have told her Gloria was right. “Well,” she said smugly, “there you are then. You enjoyed it so don’t bother denying it. It showed on your face.”

  I acknowledged that with a reluctant nod. “I didn’t realise I was such a pushover.”

  “Subconsciously you must have wanted to do it.”

  “Don’t go all philosophical on me.” I drained my glass and placed it on the galley counter. “Well, that’s it then. Time to hit the sack.”

  Before I realised what she had in mind, she scooted across the seating unit until no space separated us, plonked herself on my lap and kissed me. It was a searing, tongue-down-the-throat sort of kiss, and my heroic attempts at resistance last for all of five seconds. Quite why I was trying to resist wasn’t altogether clear to me. It was just that Paul had shown his vulnerable underbelly, I needed to think, and I still felt confused about Kara, and…oh, what the hell.

  We were naked and in one another’s arms in seconds.

  * * *

  Hal joined us for breakfast on the boat the following morning.

  “It’s a three-ring circus up at the house,” he said with a martyred sigh. “Musicians pretend they don’t like parties but they’re certainly not averse to the drinking bit.”

  “It went on a while then?” I said, chuckling.

  “After four, I think. Can’t say for sure. Hope it didn’t disturb you.”

  “Didn’t hear a thing.”

  “That’s good. Anyway, I left them to it when it started to get silly.”

  “Very wise.”

  “Coffee?” Cleo asked, waving the pot in our direction. We both nodded.

  “So,” Hal said, leaning back in his chair. “Any blindingly obvious suspects for the sabotage, Charlie?”

  “I spoke to quite a few people but no one stands out.” I paused. “But then we could be coming at this the wrong way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we’re assuming it’s someone directly connected to the team, trying to queer your pitch. But you’re a businessman.”

  Hal lifted his shoulders. “Yes, and no successful businessman gets to the top of his tree without treading on toes and squelching egos.”

  “And presumably if the powerboat team folded, then you’d be disadvantaged financially.”

  “Yes, I would.” He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “Very much so. To say nothing of my own ego. I hadn’t considered that possibility.”

  “It’s no secret that the team’s your abiding passion, so if someone was out for revenge it would be a prime target. And since none of the sabotage has been technical, anyone with a bit of gumption could have organised it.”

  “It’s possible, I suppose. I’ll give it some thought, and if I come up with any candidates I’ll let you know.” He paused, frowning. “But if it was a business rival they’d still need someone on the inside, wouldn’t they?”

  “Possibly. Where were all the team before last night, by the way?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. Just curiosity.”

  “Were they closeted together, scheming to bring about my downfall, is what you’re asking?”

  “Humour me.”

  “Josh Harling’s the only one who’s employed full time. The rest are paid to work for me during the season, when I need them.”

  “Which isn’t yet?”

  “No, another month before we join forces.”

  “So, what does Josh do for support staff?”

  “He uses people from my organisation for PR and stuff like that.”

  That would explain the two women he’d brought with him. Someone mentioned that they worked for Hal’s organisation. “Everyone arrived from different points for the party?”

  “Pretty much, yes.”

  So Paul could have been in Brighton and could have sabotaged my boat.

  “When do you plan to leave, Charlie?”

  “In about an hour, with the tide.”

  “Oh, but Gloria was hoping—”

  “Cleo has to work tonight and I’ve got some other stuff on.”

  “Of course, I should have thought. But don’t leave it so long next time. And come up to the house to say goodbye before you go, or my name will be mud.”

  We made our fond farewells and put to sea as planned. My engine room checks were extra diligent but everything appeared to be in order. The boat behaved beautifully, and the weather was calmer as well, so Cleo was saved a repeat bout of seasickness.

  As soon as we were tied up in Brighton, Cleo dashed home to change for work. I hit the phones and asked Jimmy Taylor if he could meet me for a pint later. I also asked him to check a few names out before he did so. Then I got on to the internet and did some background research on Peter Garnet.

  Jimmy and I settled at a quiet table in the back of his local, two foaming pints of beer in front of us. Jimmy didn’t look comfortable and I got the impression he’d suggested the location because no one else from the job was likely to see us there.

  “Cheers,” I said, raising my glass in salute. “And thanks for making the time.”

  “My pleasure.” He paused, grinning over his beer. “I think.”

  “I’m still public enemy number one then.”

  “Oh, Slater’s busting her balls trying to pin the murder on you. Well,” he amended, grinning again, “she would be if she actually had any, but you get the picture.”

/>   “Sure.” I tried not to show how unsettling I found her determination to nail me.

  “No one else suspects you for a moment, not even the boss.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “Yeah, and I think Slater realises she’s overplayed her hand. You know what she’s like about self-image and keeping in with the people that matter. The guvnor’s told her to back off you and since she hasn’t got anything definite linking you to the crime, she’s pretending to look elsewhere.”

  “But still having me followed.”

  Jimmy’s eyebrows shot up. “Is she?”

  “I’m pretty sure she was.”

  “Well if she is, it’s not official.”

  “Much good may it do her.” I took a long draft of beer. “Did you bring those crime scene pictures I asked for?”

  “Yeah.” He reached into a document case and produced an envelope. They didn’t show the body but then those weren’t the pictures I wanted to see. I was more interested in that lounge I’d caught a brief glimpse of. My ex-colleagues had done a thorough job of photographing it from every angle. That was how I knew the silver-framed photograph I’d seen was missing. The frame that I was sure held a head and shoulders shot of my stepbrother.

  Paul’s reaction to my accusations at Hal’s party had all but confirmed it. It accounted for his despondency and so much more. Miller didn’t look gay but he probably hadn’t come out and didn’t want people to know. Men in his profession often didn’t. The picture’s disappearance gave me a pretty good idea who’d offed Miller but I tried not to let it show in my expression. It was a delicate situation for all sorts of reasons, and I needed more proof before I started throwing accusations about.

  “Thanks,” I said, handing the pictures back to Jimmy.

  “Find what you were looking for?”

  “No.” Or rather yes. “About those names I asked you to check out, Jimmy. Any news yet?”

  “Nothing on Tommy Mallet. He hasn’t got a record but he does have a few brain cells and is known to be Peter Garnet’s fixer. Anything he wants done.”

  “And Garnet’s clean too, I take it.”