Deep Blue Sea

by Tasmina Perry

  ‘I want to know how M and A deals work.’

  ‘Well we can’t cover that in ten seconds. Why don’t you speak to Patty? Do you have her number? She’s driving down to Greenfields this morning. Give her a ring.’

  He hung up. Slapped down by a hot towel perhaps, although Rachel doubted very much that that happened to first-class passengers.

  Patty’s mobile number was in her book. She tried calling, but it went straight to message. No doubt Patty was still on the A3, heading south to their rural retreat. She should go and see her. Patty Reynolds was sharp as a whip but could be gossipy and indiscreet under the right circumstances – a face-to-face meeting was definitely better than a phone call. She couldn’t recall the exact address but remembered its New Forest location, having wangled an invitation to Michael’s fiftieth about five years ago, after they had all been in Tuscany together.

  She grabbed a piece of cold toast and stuffed it into her mouth as she started to pack. Her phone beeped and she picked it up hoping it would be Patty returning her call, but it was just the device running out of juice. She sent a quick message to Diana to tell her where she was going, then switched off her phone to conserve the battery. She had to check out. She had to get going.

  61

  It was a grey and miserable day when Diana got out of bed and flung back the curtains. Although it was morning, swollen black clouds hovered over the grounds and the lonely-looking Lake House, making it seem like dusk. Diana watched as fat droplets of rain hit the window; it was the first storm she’d seen this summer, but she welcomed it. The lawn was beginning to brown, the earth crack, and a good downpour would clear away the muggy heat that made shirts and dresses stick to you. She heard a distant rumble and smiled. A few days earlier, she knew, she would have seen a sudden squall like this as a black omen and would have been plunged into a depression, but now? Well, nothing could get her down. She touched her hand to her belly, trying to remember how long it was before you felt that first kick. In previous pregnancies she would never have dared think such a thing; it was unlucky, tempting fate. But this time she had an overwhelming feeling of well-being, a premonition that everything was going to be fine with this baby. Julian’s baby. Her child. How could that not make her smile?

  She turned as her bedside telephone rang.

  ‘Hello?’

  There was a pause, then a slight echo of her own voice.

  ‘Diana?’ said a male voice. ‘Is that Diana?’

  ‘Yes. Who’s this?’

  The pause again.

  She felt a growing sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, but at the same time, she wasn’t panicking. She felt strong, in control. She could deal with this. Her hand slipped down to her belly again. She could deal with anything now.

  ‘It’s Liam. Liam Giles.’

  ‘Liam,’ she said with relief. ‘How are you? Safe trip back to Thailand, I assume.’

  ‘I’m trying to get in touch with Rachel,’ he said without preamble. His voice contained the same anxiety she had felt a few moments earlier.

  ‘She’s in London. Have you tried calling her?’

  ‘I spoke to her last night.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Probably nothing,’ he said. ‘She’s just not answering her phone.’

  ‘It’s still early. You know Rachel. Given the choice, she’d stay in bed till lunchtime, or have things changed that much?’

  ‘I just hope she’s not done anything stupid . . .’

  Her smile vanished. He was starting to worry her.

  ‘Tell me what’s wrong, Liam.’

  He waited before he spoke.

  ‘She gave me a DVD of the CCTV footage from the night of the party before I left, and when I went through it, I noticed that one of the guests never left the party.’

  ‘Never left the party?’ she queried.

  ‘I sent the footage to Rachel, and she identified the person as Greg Willets’s guest.’

  ‘Can you send the image to me?’

  ‘Sure. Are you near a computer?’

  There was an iPad on the dressing table. She switched it on, and within seconds she was looking at the picture that Liam had sent her.

  ‘That’s right. Her name was Eva,’ said Diana, recognising her instantly. She had barely spoken to her all evening. She was blonde, foreign, with an incredible gym-toned body, and she had not seen her since. But then it wasn’t unusual for Greg’s girlfriends to be seen once or twice then never again.

  ‘What are you thinking, Liam?’

  ‘I just don’t want Rachel going places alone. Not after what happened to Ross.’

  ‘You mean we don’t know who to trust?’

  ‘I think you should get in touch with the officer in charge of the investigation. I think the police have missed this. And I don’t want her seeing Greg, or anyone else for that matter, by herself. If you can’t make that happen, I’m going to be on the next flight back from Thailand to bring her back home.’

  ‘You love her, don’t you?’ she said softly.

  ‘I won’t ever let anything happen to her.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after her until she’s back home with you, where she belongs.’

  Liam’s call had distracted her from Adam’s arrival, but it had also given her another thing to feel unsettled about. She tried Rachel’s mobile but like Liam was unable to get through.

  The rain had faded to a gentle drizzle by the time Adam’s Aston Martin pulled up at the front door. She was glad it wasn’t blazing hot, glad that the weather didn’t remind her of their day out in Dorset. How stupid she had been, she told herself. How could she have let herself be seduced like that?

  She watched him jump out of the car, shocked by her lack of feeling as he approached. She thought about all the emotions he had dredged to the surface in New York. All that passion, desire and belonging. Had they ever really been there? Or had they just been a mirage, conjured up by her own sense of stupidity and loneliness?

  ‘Hello, Di.’ He kissed her lightly, awkwardly on the cheek. It was the first time she had seen Adam do anything awkwardly.

  ‘I’m glad you came.’

  ‘I didn’t want things to be uncomfortable between us.’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  ‘I meant what I said in New York.’

  Is that what you say to all the girls? Including my sister? she wanted to shout. But it wasn’t worth it. As he said, they didn’t want things to be uncomfortable between them. He was still part of her life; he was still going to be her baby’s uncle. She didn’t want to jeopardise that with insults and recriminations. Besides, she didn’t blame him for being attracted to Rachel; not like Julian, who she could never forgive for what he had done.

  ‘Adam, these are strange times, and perhaps things have happened that wouldn’t happen under normal circumstances.’

  The trace of a frown appeared between his brows, and it almost made her laugh. She had been expecting relief, but instead he looked mildly irritated.

  ‘Absolutely. So you don’t want to talk about it . . .’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Do you fancy going for a pub lunch? Or we could go to Dot’s Bakery,’ he said hopefully.

  ‘Actually, I want to talk to you.’

  Adam had the look of a man cornered. A reluctant boyfriend pressed into discussing the future by a partner who had not yet realised that their relationship had passed its sell-by date.

  ‘Okay.’ He shrugged, with an awkward smile. ‘Let’s grab some coffee.’

  They walked into the conservatory, which was the brightest place in the house, even managing to capture some light despite the grey cloud cover.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about Greg Willets,’ she said, before telling him everything that Lia
m had discussed with her.

  When she had finished Adam looked confused.

  ‘I don’t understand why he thinks Rachel is in danger. Why he doesn’t want her talking to Greg . . .’

  ‘Rachel had a theory that someone might have killed Julian, you know that. She had the why – Rheladrex. She just couldn’t work out how they would have got into the house.’

  ‘Greg was his best friend,’ said Adam with disbelief. ‘They started off working for Denver on the same day; Dad got Greg a job, in fact. He’d come in for work experience during university and impressed everyone that much. He’s a very good friend of the family, my dad, Elizabeth, a good friend of mine, in fact.’

  ‘Why did he leave Denver?’

  Adam shrugged. ‘He was attracted to investment banking. Thought there was more money in it, I suppose, than being a salary man at Denver.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it. Check the film again, I’m sure you’ll find an explanation.’

  ‘Did Greg have anything to gain from Julian’s death? Last night Michael Reynolds said his business might be in trouble.’

  ‘Diana, Greg just wouldn’t do a thing like that.’

  ‘One thing I’ve learnt over the past few weeks is that you never know what people are thinking,’ said Diana softly.

  ‘Elizabeth’s the person to talk to,’ he said finally. ‘She knows more about business, Denver, investment banking than anyone.’

  ‘Call her,’ she ordered. ‘I don’t want my sister in any danger. For all we know, she could be on her way to see Greg Willets.’

  ‘Stop being so dramatic.’

  ‘I thought you cared about Rachel,’ she said sharply.

  He looked embarrassed, and she knew she had him.

  ‘Don’t worry, Adam, I know something happened between the two of you.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it to,’ he said finally.

  Confirmation of what she had suspected was like a punch in the stomach.

  ‘Of course not. Have one sister, have them both.’

  ‘Diana, please. I knew you were pissed off about New York. We should talk about it.’

  ‘What is there to talk about? That you just can’t keep your cock in your trousers? That you wanted to have something that Julian couldn’t have? Not now, not then. His wife. His sister-in-law who had the guts to turn him down.’

  She saw the flash in his eyes. The look of being caught out.

  ‘That’s it, isn’t it? Thing is, you don’t even realise it yourself. You probably thought you were attracted to me, to Rachel. But really it was all about you and your ego.’

  Adam was shaking his head slowly.

  ‘Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. Save your explanation and just make the call to Elizabeth. At least this way you might be able to redeem yourself.’

  He reluctantly picked up his phone and went to stand by the window. Whilst he was calling Elizabeth, Diana tried to ring Rachel again. She was still unable to get through, but she felt some relief that her sister had sent her a message to say that she was going to see Patty Reynolds. She texted her back asking her to contact her immediately.

  62

  Rachel had heard about microclimates, but this was ridiculous. London seemed to be in the grip of a summer storm, people holding newspapers as they sprinted for shelter, the rain sending spray into the air, the whole city brooding under dark clouds. But as she drove south-west along the A3, it was as if she were moving not just from the outer suburbs of London into Surrey and Hampshire, but from winter straight into summer. The sky ahead of her lightened, the clouds parted and bright blue sky poked through. She saw two rainbows in the space of half an hour and by the time she had arrived at the southern reaches of the New Forest, the sun was slanting through the trees, her car was dry and the Beaulieu river sparkled in the light.

  There was no mistaking the Reynolds’s place. On the outskirts of Beaulieu, it was set back off the main road, and she could see the slate roof of the Queen Anne manse gleaming in the sunshine even from a distance. The iron gates were open, so she drove straight towards the house, which loomed like the sort of place you’d only usually see in TV period dramas, surrounded by ladies in crinoline dresses.

  There were no cars on the drive, and the doors of the quadruple garage adjacent to the property where Patty could have parked her car were closed. It was an awfully long way to come if no one was home, thought Rachel, looking around for signs of life.

  She rang the bell and was relieved when Patty finally came to the door. Her ash-blond hair had been swept back off her face into a ponytail. She was wearing a short white Lacoste tennis dress, trainers and some sort of expensive wraparound sunglasses dangling on a lanyard. Rachel looked her up and down. Patty must have been pushing fifty, but her figure was still pretty sensational, only her slightly veiny hands giving away her age.

  ‘Rachel Miller,’ she said, looking startled. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘I did call,’ said Rachel, aware that she was intruding on the woman’s day.

  Patty wiped a bead of sweat off her brow with the palm of her hand.

  ‘I haven’t picked up my messages. I’ve been playing tennis. Everything’s fine?’ she asked with alarm. ‘Diana is okay, I mean?’

  Rachel nodded. ‘She’s fine. I just wanted to pick your brains about something. I spoke to Michael before he took off and he suggested I talk to you.’

  ‘He did, did he? Determined not to give me a weekend’s peace,’ she said with annoyance.

  ‘I’m sorry. If this is inconvenient, I can come back later.’

  Patty hesitated, and then beckoned her inside.

  ‘Don’t be silly. You’ve come all this way.’

  As Rachel stepped inside, she gave the place a 360-degree sweep of her gaze.

  ‘I forgot how fantastic this place is. Through my sister I’ve seen a lot of nice places, but if I had to choose one, I think yours would be up there in my top three. It’s truly . . . grand.’

  ‘You came to Mike’s fiftieth, didn’t you? Disappeared with a member of the jazz band, if I remember correctly,’ said Patty, taking a slug of water from an Evian bottle.

  Rachel smiled thinly as she recalled that particular evening. She had been thrilled to wangle an invite to the Reynoldses’ fancy party, but since she had known very few people there, she had ended up chatting to the drummer from the jazz band that had played after dinner. They had liberated a bottle of Dom Perignon from the catering supplies and played strip poker in the tennis pavilion, which had culminated in very vigorous and noisy sex that had apparently been overheard by some of the guests. He had gone on tour to Germany the following Monday and she had never heard from him since, but she could still remember the evening with hot embarrassment.

  It was typical of Patty Reynolds to have remembered too.

  ‘Well, thank you for your comments about the house,’ said Patty more kindly. ‘I still pinch myself whenever I wake up here.’

  ‘Pinch yourself?’

  ‘The house I grew up in was smaller than the garage,’ she smiled.

  ‘Really?’ said Diana with surprise.

  ‘I’m not from Julian or Michael’s sort of background. Actually I think it was the making of me. I went to the sort of school that rewarded success in football and woodwork, not academic achievement, but I always used to tell myself that it didn’t matter, because one day I would make my own money and buy a place by the sea.’

  ‘Well, what a place.’

  ‘You can see the Isle of Wight from our grounds; that was the only place my parents ever took me on holiday. I look at it now and remind myself how far I’ve come. Drink?’

  ‘Diet Coke if you’ve got it.’

  Patty produced an organic cola from her enormous Sub-Zero fridge.

  ‘So what di
d you want to know?’ She smiled, and Rachel felt more at ease. ‘I assume this is about the investigation you’ve been doing into Julian’s death. I wondered when it was my turn for a proper interrogation.’

  ‘Can I be blunt?’

  She smiled. ‘We don’t know each other well, Rachel, but well enough for you not to ask that question, surely.’

  ‘I think there was a multi-million-dollar motive for Julian to be murdered.’

  Patty didn’t look surprised by her remark.

  ‘You could probably say the same about any billionaire businessman found dead in unusual circumstances.’

  ‘In the weeks before he died, Julian was about to pull a potential blockbuster drug off the market. Doing so would have devalued the market price of Denver Chemicals, which was for sale. It’s still for sale; in fact the wheels are already in motion for finding a buyer.’

  ‘So what do you want to know from me?’ asked Patty, frowning.

  ‘Do you know if Greg Willets’s company Canopus was advising on the deal?’

  She was silent.

  ‘If you know anything, Patty, please tell me.’

  ‘Probably,’ she said after a moment.

  Rachel began to speak her thought process out loud. ‘And if Greg was handling the deal and the market value of the company suddenly plummeted, what would happen?’

  The older woman shrugged. ‘The sale price would be reduced or the whole thing might fall through.’

  ‘And what happens to the investment bank in that situation?’

  ‘They work on commission essentially. You can spend months on a deal and if it falls through – nada. So if anything went wrong with the Denver Chemicals deal, that would impact on Canopus’s fee, which could run into tens of millions on a multi-billion-dollar transaction.’

  ‘Ballpark on the investment banking fee with a blockbuster drug still on the market?’

  ‘I heard they were after thirty to forty billion sale price. Commission fees around one per cent . . . You’re talking thirty million.’

  ‘That’s a lot of money,’ whistled Rachel. ‘Would it have an impact in other ways?’