Scandalous Lies: An addictive, sexy beach read

by Nigel May

  Nova looked confused.

  ‘Splash out. Go shopping. Buy something fabulous?’

  Nova obviously liked the notion. ‘Well I did pack light this trip so maybe we could take in a few boutiques. I’m sure I could pick up a dress or two. Always good to have choices of what to wear at Evie’s party, eh?’

  Georgia nearly sprayed her rosé wine across the table. ‘Packing light! I’ve seen less cases on the carousel after an entire flight to Ibiza have disembarked. It would take a pack of sniffer dogs several days to root their way through your luggage, Nova.’

  Nova was unapologetic. ‘I learnt the art of packing after hearing a quote from the designer, Diane Von Furstenberg. She said, “I get ideas about what’s essential when packing my suitcase.” So do I, and it’s pretty much everything. You can never have too many clothes, shoes, handbags and jewellery with you. Besides, I want to have exactly the right outfit for Evie’s gathering. What are you wearing?’

  ‘I honestly haven’t given it a moment’s thought as yet,’ half-lied Georgia. The truth was that whatever she was going to wear she wanted to outshine Tanya. She guessed that her father, a big supporter of Evie and her charities since her rise to fame in Hollywood, was on the guest list and that would mean that sadly, by default, so would her stepmother.

  ‘You’ll meet my father and stepmother at Evie’s charity event, I suspect. That should be fun.’

  ‘Yes, Charlie’s mentioned her. The Russian oligarch’s daughter. Apparently we’re very big in the Baltic States. They adore me. Maybe she’ll be a fan.’

  ‘Somehow I’m not sure you will be,’ deadpanned Georgia, choosing to gloss over the fact that, if her geography and history served her well, then the Baltic States were Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia, which had gained independence from the Russian Empire and Tanya’s homeland many years before.

  ‘Will I not like her, then? How glamorous is she?’ Nova’s suddenly panicked at the thought of potentially being outshone at Evie’s charity event by the other ‘mother of the bride’ as it were. For Nova it was a fate not even worth contemplating. She would not let it happen.

  ‘She’s very glamorous, but let’s just say that class and taste are not necessarily bedfellows of glamour. And she’s young. Just a few months older than me.’

  ‘Bitch.’ The word had slipped out before Nova had a chance to stop it. She hadn’t planned on her potential daughter-in-law’s stepmother being glamorous and young. A flawless, unblemished young skin could disguise any lack of class.

  Georgia found it hysterical. ‘I believe she is!’

  Georgia’s giggling was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. ‘Maybe this is her now. Perhaps she’s phoning to tell me that she’s disappearing back off to the dark and dingy alleyways of Moscow to leave my father alone.’

  It wasn’t Tanya. Georgia hadn’t expected it to be. It was much more likely to be Charlie or somebody from work. It wasn’t either. In fact she didn’t recognise the number but she could see it was from abroad.

  She considered letting it click through to her messaging service but curiosity took hold and mouthing ‘sorry’ to Nova, she pressed the answer button.

  ‘Hello ...’

  It was two minutes later that she pressed the end button. She’d hardly said another word. All colour had drained from her face.

  ‘What is it, dear girl? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?’

  Wide-eyed at what she’d just heard, Georgia took a swig of her wine before speaking.

  ‘That was the authorities in Mexico. I gave them my number when we left Tijuana. They said they would ring me if there was anything to discuss.’

  ‘And what did they say?’

  ‘They rang about Mitzi’s body. They’ve extracted it from the wreckage of the camper van and examined it. They are sure it can’t be Mitzi.’

  Nova looked confused. ‘But how can they tell? One burnt body is going to look exactly like the next one, surely? They must be mistaken. You saw her go up in the explosion.’

  Georgia’s expression portrayed that there had been no mistake. ‘They’re sure. There’s no way it could have been Mitzi. The body from the wreckage wasn’t female … it was the body of a man.’

  Fifty-Nine

  The warmth of the bath water felt good against Victoria’s skin. As she lay back, allowing herself to be enveloped by the tendrils of steam that came up off the water she closed her eyes and let her mind drift, grateful that the cocooning of the bath, her ever-faithful anti-depressants and the swallowing of another painkiller were relieving her misery.

  Her whole being seemed to be built upon a foundation of hurt. As she stared at the greyness inside her own eyelids, she felt the sadness of her life wash over her. What would it take to immerse her head completely under the surface, to feel the heat of the water over her cheeks, her nose and her mouth? To open her mouth and let the hot sensation flood in, down her throat and into her lungs? How long would it take? Would it be a pleasing sensation? Would it cause pain?

  Doubtless it would cause a degree of pain to a few around her. Would Scott grieve? What about the children? Would they be young enough to forget their mother in a few years’ time? Who would find her? Would her own body turn cold before the water did? A constant flow of questions poured into Victoria’s mind.

  She focused on moments in her life. Her first ever Mardi Gras back in New Orleans, the vibrant colours of the floats and the technicolour characters passing in front of her. The softness and the delicacy of her prom dress and the crystal clarity of the jewels as she was crowned Queen on the most magical night ever. The rosy cheeks of Leo and Lexi beaming up at her from their cribs. It all turned to grey, colours staining with misery and hopelessness. Indistinguishable.

  No, maybe grey was the only escape. Like a blanket, one that she could be wrapped in for forever. One where hurt couldn’t find her.

  Victoria smiled to herself, the music of the radio playing from her bedroom the only sound as she felt the warmth rise up over her neck and across her face.

  Chloe let herself out of the front door and let it click silently behind her. Scott was at work, the children at school and Victoria was upstairs taking a bath. If she timed it right, she could be back before her employer dressed and returned downstairs.

  She had done what she needed to do. Located the invitation and placed it on the colour printer. Pressed the button for copy and thirty seconds later it was done. Printed out, identical but for the gold leaf around the outside of the original. She cut out the photocopy and placed it back in the drawer where she had found the original ticket. She’d seen Victoria stash it there. She put the original in her pocket and texted Jack to say that she was on her way.

  Chloe pulled the gate behind her and walked away from the house. Time was of the essence. At least if Victoria was alone in the bath, nothing could go wrong, could it?

  Sixty

  She’d given up trying to shout. There was no point. There was no-one to hear her anymore. The binding in her mouth had been removed, as had the ropes around her ankles and wrists. Hands tearing at her. Were they the same as those that had pulled at her skin and bruised her tender flesh that night in the open air? When was that? How could she tell? There was no clock. There was no day and night. There was no hope. Maybe she would try one final cry. All she could manage was a short, barely audible whimper. Now there was no voice either.

  Sixty-One

  There was a celebratory chink of decadence as the three heavy crystal wine glasses bumped up against each other, but not even the noise of such normally jubilant conviviality could do anything to thaw the gelid air that glazed the atmosphere of Devon and Tanya’s front room.

  ‘Cheers, darling. It’s wonderful to see you again and great to have you back home safely from America. I’m just so sorry to hear about your friend Mitzi.’

  Devon was pleased to see his daughter again and of the three people toasting her return, there was only warmth between Devon and his offspring. Georgia
and Tanya had hardly looked each other in the eye since her arrival and there was clearly a sub-arctic situation brewing between Devon and his wife as far as Georgia could make out. It would take more than a glass of Pinotage to liven up this party of three.

  Georgia was worried about her father. There was a jitteriness about his demeanor that suggested that he was preoccupied with something deeply troubling. She would have asked him outright but with Tanya hovering like a designer-clad misery too, she suspected that the Russian may have been the reason for her father’s chagrin. Maybe life with wife number two was not the bowl of Beluga caviar that her father had planned. She’d have to choose her moment.

  Georgia took a mouthful of the wine and sat herself down on the chocolate leather sofa at the centre of the room. Tanya sat awkwardly beside her as Devon placed himself on a matching armchair facing his daughter and wife.

  ‘Thank you, but I’m not really sure what to think about the whole Mitzi disappearance anymore. Charlie and I thought we’d seen her go up in smoke in Tijuana but now it appears that it wasn’t her after all.’

  Georgia explained the phone call that she’d received from the Mexican authorities. Their jaws dropped as she unfolded the tale.

  ‘The body was male! So some man was pretending to be Mitzi. Now that is some fucked-up weird. Some macho Mexican running around in heels and a skirt.’ It was a disbelieving Tanya who spoke, her seemingly mocking tone immediately annoying Georgia. The crease of anger scratched across Georgia’s face did not go unnoticed by her father.

  ‘That still doesn’t make the tragedy of Mitzi’s ongoing disappearance any easier for Georgia, does it Tanya? The two of them were very close. At least it means Mitzi could still be alive.’ Devon wasn’t sure he believed his own words. He looked at Georgia. ‘Do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think. The whole thing is definitely a bit, as she puts it, “fucked-up”.’ Her eyes snapped onto her stepmother as she spoke. ‘Why would a man be dressed as Mitzi? Charlie and I were certain it was her. And how would the authorities know? The body would have been destroyed beyond recognition.’

  ‘Speaking with my scientific head on, it’s incredibly easy to see the differences between a male and a female skeleton, even one that has been through an explosion,’ said Devon. ‘For one, in general, a female skeleton would not be as large as a male’s, it would be smoother and the hollows that serve as muscle insertion points would be less accentuated. The lumbar curve would be greater in a woman and the angle of the pelvic bone would be different too. Plus there are major differences in hip width and things like that.’

  ‘So they can’t have re-sexed it by mistake?’ questioned Georgia, still desperate for a definite piece of closure about the dancer’s disappearance.

  ‘I’m afraid not, darling. Their findings will be very conclusive. If they say the body was a man, then it was indeed a man.’

  ‘And therefore not Mitzi,’ sighed Georgia.

  ‘Unless she’d been a man underneath all of those sequins all along.’ Tanya let out an inappropriate giggle. She wasn’t sure whether it was the glass of Pinotage or the fact that she always became somewhat snippy when in the same room as her stepdaughter, the animosity between them causing her to lose any sense of tact or decorum, but either way she didn’t really care.

  Devon obviously did. ‘For Christ’s sake, Tanya, if you don’t have anything useful to say then just shut the fuck up.’

  It was unusual for Devon to swear in front of his daughter. Georgia could see that he was riled. As was she. Something inside her snapped as her father’s lamentable appearance and her stepmother’s tactless, uncaring ways smashed into each other at full pelt.

  ‘Yes, that’s not exactly helpful, Tanya. It’s my best friend who is missing.’ Georgia was becoming more fired up, her anger rising. She couldn’t stop herself. ‘You sit here with your barbed comments and your poker-faced iciness and you have no idea about what I’ve been going through. It’s alright for you isn’t it, sitting here without a care in the world other than which fashion house creation is next on your shopping list or which of my father’s credit cards needs using next, but you haven’t got a clue about anything.’ Georgia placed her hand over her chest. ‘I’m hurting in my heart. Something you’d never know about, being such a heartless bitch.’

  Georgia’s mind was red with rage. The confrontation with Tanya had been a long time brewing.

  ‘You may be Dad’s wife but I don’t trust you and I don’t like you. I don’t know what you’ve been doing to him, but he looks a wreck.’

  Georgia turned to face Devon, her entire body now shaking with anger. ‘I’m sorry, Dad, but it’s true. You look so tired. It’s not like you. What’s happened?’

  Devon remained silent, a deep sadness spreading across his already melancholy features.

  ‘You seem so miserable, Dad. You were never like this when Mum was here. Never. Those were happy times.’

  ‘Enough!’

  It was Devon who shouted. He banged his wine glass down on the table as he did so, causing the stem to crack. The glass collapsed to one side, spilling its deep red contents across the surface. ‘Georgia, enough … you do not bring your mother into this.’ A tear fell from Devon’s eye as he stared at his daughter.

  He continued, ‘I trusted your mother. And look where that got me. She left me for another man. You can put her on a pedestal all you like, but the fact is we didn’t stay together because she left me. Your mother was not perfect. I was wrong to trust her. They say be careful who you trust as the devil was once an angel.’

  It was now Georgia’s turn to cry, the tears a woeful concoction of misery about Mitzi, the tainted reality of her late mother and her fears for her father.

  Devon stood up and moved to his daughter, sitting on the arm of the sofa alongside her and placing his arms around her as she cried. He pulled her close to him. Silence was sufficient, the comfort of his embrace speaking volumes. He kissed her on the top of her head, his own tears falling onto her hair.

  Tanya had remained silent and somewhat awkward throughout the conversation between her husband and stepdaughter.

  ‘Your mother and I were very happy together while it lasted but don’t now hate Tanya. You shouldn’t have that kind of hatred within you, Georgia,’ said Devon. ‘Your mother and I didn’t bring you up to hate. Tanya has made me a happy man, and that counts for something. I was alone after Sophia left and I was miserable, doubting myself and fearing the future. I needed something and I found that in Tanya. She helped me rebuild my life, regain control.’

  She wiped her eyes and stared at her stepmother. She didn’t hate Tanya. She just didn’t like her but if she made her father happy then she would have to respect that. So why then did Devon look so God damned awful? Georgia looked up into her father’s face. There was definitely a hurt etched across it.

  It was Tanya who finally spoke, feeling that her turn had come. ‘You see Georgia, I am here for a reason. Your father adores me.’ There was still an air of smugness in Tanya’s voice, insinuating that victory was indeed hers after all.

  She refilled her glass of wine without offering any to the others and was just taking her first sip when Devon replied. He was about to put his plan into action. Was that a smile that escaped from his lips? Not even he was sure.

  ‘Oh I did. I adored you. But then you let me down too. Just like Sophia. Into the arms of another man. But then I shouldn’t have expected any different really, should I? When you’re born in the gutter then you will always be a sewer rat, won’t you?’ Images of his wife and Aaron together swamped Devon’s mind, the images he’d seen on the hidden camera. ‘I should have left you where I found you, shouldn’t I?’

  Georgia felt her brow crease with confusion as she listened to her father’s words. ‘I think it’s about time you discovered the truth about Tanya, Georgia.’

  A few droplets of Pinotage splashed from her glass and landed on Tanya’s magnolia Tory Burch silk blouse as
the Russian began to shake with fear at what Devon was about to tell his daughter …

  Devon Bellamy lay back naked on his Moscow hotel room bed and felt a stirring between his legs. It was the anticipation of what was to come. He was primed and ready for what the evening of fun in his five star hotel suite was about to offer.

  He loved his time working in Russia. When Sophia had been alive he had often contemplated bringing his wife and daughter with him to make the trip into more of a holiday but it had never happened. Instead, he had furnished them both with souvenirs of his time in the Soviet Union, delighting Georgia with Matryoshka dolls that would fit snugly together and decorating Sophie with some of the finest diamonds in the world.

  But that was then and this was now. Sophia was dead and Georgia was all grown up and beyond playing with dolls. And Devon was alone.

  The days in Moscow kept him busy but the nights were when his solitude kicked in. More often than not, Devon would find himself alone in his hotel suite with nothing more than room service and an unintelligible Russian news channel to keep him company.

  It was the room service attendant on one of his visits who had suggested that maybe he would like ‘some company’ to help pass the time. At first Devon had been reticent. He had never paid for sex and didn’t really intend to start now, but after one too many lonely nights with nothing but his right hand for company, it didn’t take a scientist of his calibre to realise that money could satisfy any amount of loneliness and the deep seated horny desire that he had been experiencing.

  Devon was asked what he wanted by the hotel worker – everything from straight vanilla to bondage and fetish through to the more specialist kinks of watersports and erotic asphyxiation seemed to be on offer for those with the currency to pay.