What Happens at Christmas

by Evonne Wareham

  ‘Well!’ Benita exhaled loudly, opened her mouth, shut it, then opened it again. ‘Cassie, that is the most outrageous load of bull I’ve ever heard in my life!’

  ‘Yes, I thought so too,’ Cassie agreed. ‘I was about to walk out. That was when he mentioned the fee.’

  She delved into her bag and produced a banker’s draft, putting it down carefully on the desk.

  Benita’s eyes nearly fell out of her head when she read the amount.

  ‘That’s … that’s …’

  ‘Incredible,’ Cassie helped her out. ‘I know, but it’s legitimate. I rang the bank. There are enough funds to cover it.’

  ‘The cheque might be legitimate, but the job can’t be.’ Benita shook her head slowly. ‘No one pays money like that for something so stupid. It has to be something else. Something big and nasty. Drugs, money laundering – or worse.’

  ‘Yes. And I would really like to know what.’

  ‘Hey! Come on! This is way beyond our pay grade. We shouldn’t be touching it with a ten foot pole!’

  ‘If we don’t do it, someone else will.’ Cassie tapped the cheque. ‘This money is good. We need it. I propose we do the job, but we also try to find out what Benson is up to.’

  ‘No way! You could get hurt. You could get arrested. You could get me arrested!’

  Cassie puffed out her lower lip. ‘I can take care of myself.’

  Benita looked sceptical. ‘Cassie, you do realise that doing this job involves helping someone commit fraud?’

  Cassie pouted. ‘Only a little, little bit.’ She held her finger and thumb up, to illustrate just how little.

  The set of Benita’s mouth told her how much she wasn’t convinced. ‘Still fraud.’

  Cassie’s bravado collapsed abruptly. ‘You think I don’t know that?’

  She cast a quick glance around the office. The premises were rented, the furniture and technology very definitely pre-loved, but everything here represented years of dreams, followed by months of hard work. Panic squeezed her heart. Now their successful enterprise was under threat from lack of funds. They had serious cash flow problems. And if they had to give it up …

  Could she still manage to carry on, somehow? Hold the business together using the old computer on the tiny kitchen table of her flat? She closed her eyes for a moment. If she had to …

  But what if this whole thing is genuine?

  ‘If it was only about Benson inheriting some money, I wouldn’t think of it.’ She really hoped that was true. ‘But this was his childhood home. Where he grew up. He’s clearly loaded and willing to pay stupid money to keep it away from the nasty cousin. You didn’t see him, Bennie. There were tears in his eyes when he spoke about the place.’

  ‘So now you think he’s for real?’ Benita gave out a frustrated huff.

  ‘I don’t know!’ Cassie didn’t hide her own frustration. ‘It all sounds mad, and suspicious as hell. But maybe, just maybe, it is real. Maybe that’s why it’s so mad. Tomorrow is only the first step. He’ll be able to fulfil all the other conditions with the real Mrs B, if we can help him with this …’ She shifted in her chair. Is it worth it? ‘I don’t know why he picked us. But he did, and that might just save us from going under. And if it’s not real, then it’s something big, you said that yourself.’

  A shiver ran along her spine and settled in her stomach. Why had Benson selected them? It wasn’t pleasant to think that someone believed she was desperate enough to bend the law, even if only in a small way. She’d always been scrupulously honest in her dealing with clients and the business community, and so far she’d managed to keep the full extent of their financial problems from common knowledge too.

  Does someone suspect something?

  With an effort she shook away the feeling of a shadow tiptoeing over her grave. ‘If the thing is criminal. More criminal,’ she amended, when she saw Benita’s face. ‘Then what we’re doing is investigation. And we are absolutely the best people to do it. It’s the only way to find out more about Benson. He’s invited us into his scheme, after all. If we do the job and find out more, then we can take the whole thing to the authorities.’ She sighed. ‘We’ll probably lose Benson’s money, but maybe there will be a reward, or something. She tilted her head inquiringly at Benita.

  ‘Inspector Brown.’ Benita said decisively. ‘We tell him. He owes us one, after he sent us that woman who’d lost her Great Dane.’

  The two women looked at each other and shuddered simultaneously.

  ‘Good call,’ Cassie approved, as soon as she’d recovered.

  ‘Huh!’ Benita aimed an accusing finger at Cassie. ‘I vowed I’d never even think about that case again. It should have been a lesson to both of us. That was a job we should never have taken.’

  ‘But the lady was very grateful when we found him. And she did stay and help clean up the office.’

  ‘Yes, she did. And paid up promptly, with a bonus on top,’ Benita admitted, laughing. Then her face sobered. ‘Seriously, Cass, I think you should put that cheque from Benson in an envelope and send it straight back. Tell him we don’t want his job or his money.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Cassie shook her head. ‘The trouble is, we do.’ The euphoria that had wafted her back from the meeting with Gerald Benson had all but evaporated. ‘I know it’s scary, but we do need this cash. We’re going to have a hard time keeping the business afloat with what we make from finding hot tickets and collecting dry cleaning. What with the utility bills and next quarter’s rent due.’ She fingered the cheque. ‘Look, let’s just say that we consider it as a short-term loan until we get back in the black? We won’t touch it unless we absolutely have to, but it will be there if we really need it.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Of course, absolutely the best thing would be to get our stolen funds back from that toad, Jason Fairbrook.’

  Cassie’s stomach was tying itself into a knot. It always did when she thought of Jason. Her hands itched too – to wrap themselves around his neck and squeeze. She’d given him her heart and the keys to the safe. He’d broken one and emptied the other.

  She’d moped for three weeks.

  Now all she wanted was to hunt down the good-looking, sexy cheat and get back what he’d stolen. She was working on it, between paying customers. He’d let slip once that his aunt had a place in the South of France that he visited often. I am going to catch up with you, Fairbrook. And when I do …

  ‘I know we have a cash flow problem, but this doesn’t feel right,’ Benita persisted. ‘We shouldn’t be taking this money.’

  Cassie dragged her mind away from her dismal taste in men. ‘Look, sweetie, we both have some funny little habits, like needing to eat regularly. If we don’t get cash soon, there’s a real danger the firm will go belly up. In the grand scheme of things we don’t need a vast sum to keep going, but you know the bank won’t help.’ Cassie ground her teeth. She’d provided every set of accounts, every projection, every bit of paper the bank manager had asked for, but the answer had still been no. As a small business, with few assets except their skills, they didn’t have enough to offer in the way of security. They ran on a shoestring, but it was a successful shoestring. Until Jason.

  He’d chosen his moment well. The weekend of their biggest, most prestigious event yet. She’d had no time to do more than wonder, in passing, why so many clients had chosen to settle their accounts in cash on that Friday, but she hadn’t dwelt on it. She’d found out afterwards, of course. Jason had asked them to, offering substantial discounts as an incentive. Those missing payments, and the regular sums he’d managed to skim out of the current account, had left them with almost nothing. She’d taken justified pride in her business savvy and organisational skills, but she’d still been taken for a fool. The fee from that big event was keeping them going, day-to-day. And every week more enquiries were coming in, from recommendations and word of mouth. In a few months … but she might not have a few months. Frustration simmered in her veins. She’d been so close to all her dreams, onl
y to see them melting away. Because of a con artist.

  But now …

  She nodded at the cheque. ‘If we have to, that cash is rent and wages and the whole damn thing.’ She dropped her voice persuasively. ‘Come on, Bennie. Let’s go for it.’

  She saw her friend hesitate. She knew what she was thinking. They’d both put too much into the agency to let it go without a fight. Benita took a very deep breath. ‘All right.’ She nodded. ‘I must be mad.’

  ‘Not so that you’d notice, and you’re in good company.’ Cassie rubbed her hands. ‘To work. Got to get me a temporary husband. Ring Simon and—’ She broke off when Benita shook her head.

  ‘Simon is backpacking in Peru.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘He left yesterday.’

  ‘Oh well – Michael then.’

  ‘Still in traction.’

  ‘Paul?’

  ‘Last I heard he was helping the police with their enquiries.’

  ‘I don’t believe this! What are we going to do?’

  There was a long, anguished pause.

  At last Benita spoke, ‘There’s only one thing we can do.’ She stirred the pencils in a pot on her desk, without looking up. Cassie watched her expectantly. ‘You have to call in Kings,’ Benita announced in a rush.

  ‘Kings?’ Cassie frowned. ‘Wenceslas? Elvis? Kong?’

  ‘Jake McQuire’

  ‘Ahhhhh!’ Cassie sounded as if someone was pulling her toenails out with pincers. ‘No way! I would rather give you my best cashmere sweater than associate with that man.’

  ‘You only have the one cashmere sweater – and you shouldn’t make threats you have no intention of keeping,’ Benita warned. ‘What have you got against Jake?’

  ‘You have to ask?’ Cassie glowered, her mouth a stubborn line.

  ‘That was a long time ago. Get over it.’

  ‘I have. But that does not mean I want to be in the same room with him. Or even the same city,’ she added, muttering under her breath.

  ‘You know Jake is back in town. You’re bound to run into him eventually.’

  ‘Not necessarily. But I’ll deal with that when I have to.’ Cassie shrugged when she saw Benita’s disapproving expression. ‘Look, I realise the guy is your husband’s best friend from way back, but he and I – well, let’s just say we don’t get along any more, and leave it at that.’ She ran her eyes around the room, seeking inspiration. ‘There must be someone else. I know, ring the theatre and ask if they’ve got any actors going spare. There must be an understudy hanging about who’d be glad of the chance to earn a few extra quid.’

  Benita was shaking her head again. ‘Haven’t you seen the posters? It’s a one-woman show this week.’

  ‘Oh.’ Cassie hunched her shoulders. ‘The temp agency?’

  ‘This I have to hear.’ Benita pushed the phone towards her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You – explaining to Miss Potts why you want this guy.’

  Cassie huffed in exasperation. Benita saw her chance and took it.

  ‘Look – if you are going ahead with this crazy stunt, then you need someone who can handle themselves, in case it gets nasty. We have no idea what this man Benson might really be up to. If you’re going to investigate a potential crime, you could use some professional backup. All the people from Kings are highly recommended.’ Benita pointed her finger to stop Cassie breaking in. ‘A detective agency gets asked to do all sorts of things. They are not going to think this is weird. Well, not too weird.’

  Cassie’s head went back, but Benita didn’t waver. She just kept on with the stare.

  ‘I suppose it would be one of the men from the agency, wouldn’t it?’ Cassie said, at last. ‘Jake might not even get to know about it?’

  ‘No reason he should. He’s not there all the time.’

  ‘I don’t know why he’s there at all,’ Cassie said irritably. ‘The guy is loaded. He has a huge business empire to run. He should be out there, captaining industry, laying waste the stock market, taking over companies and stripping their assets – when he’s not dating supermodels and playing polo – or whatever else it is billionaires do.’ She was warming to her theme. ‘He should not be messing about with a detective agency!’

  ‘It’s his mother’s agency. An old family business. She’s been seriously ill and he’s helping out. You know all that. Give the guy a break.’

  ‘Excuse me? Jake McQuire is the last person to need any breaks. Didn’t he inherit half the world a few years ago? From his father?’

  There was a pause. Both women eyed one another.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Cassie capitulated. ‘Phone them and hire someone.’ She brightened. ‘Maybe they’ll send that cute blond guy who works out at the leisure centre.’

  Benita grinned. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Cassie stretched and stood up. ‘I’ll be in my office, if anyone wants me.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  Cassie put her feet up on her desk and stared at the ceiling. She was too restless to settle to work for the moment. Images of Jake McQuire floated in her mind. And she didn’t like thinking about Jake McQuire. Too many memories.

  Benita and Tony, Cassie and Jake. They’d been friends all through school, part of a much bigger gang, but their foursome had always been special. Everyone had expected them to pair off. Tony and Benita had.

  That last glorious summer, in the weeks before Jake went on to university, anything seemed possible. Cassie had been seventeen and wildly in love.

  Recollection brought a lump to her throat.

  After years of absence, Trevor McQuire had swept back into his son’s life. And everything changed. Trevor was a rich, ambitious man. He’d wanted the same for his son. Instead of university, Jake had gone to New York. Cassie hadn’t seen him since.

  Looking back, she knew it had all been for the best. Their love had been just a teenage thing. It would never have lasted.

  From the safety of twelve years down the line, Cassie could be cool and mature about it. Which didn’t mean she wanted to run into Jake again. So, he was back in town? So what?

  Bath wasn’t that big a city, but now they moved in very different circles. Cassie’s experience of exclusive restaurants and society celebrations was strictly on behalf of her clients. She hadn’t encountered Jake at any of the events she’d organised. If and when that happened she’d be too busy to worry about it. And she wouldn’t be attending anything as a guest where he would be present. Which is fine by me.

  Yanking herself out of the past, she put her feet to the floor and reviewed the files on her desk, calling up a spreadsheet on her computer. The agency’s remit – sourcing goods and services – was pretty wide, everything from providing the maid and butler for a special dinner party to waiting at home all day for the gas man to call. But not usually impersonating a client.

  Not something she’d ever choose to do in normal circumstances. But circumstances hadn’t been normal since Jason disappeared with their money. Sticking rigidly to her scruples might mean the end of the agency.

  Shaking her head, Cassie scanned the spreadsheet. Jenni and Claire, the two postgraduate students who supplemented their funds by delivery sitting and running errands, had everything covered for the rest of the week. Benita would take care of birthday and anniversary reminders, with appropriate shopping, and sort out the final arrangements for a book signing on Wednesday and a gallery opening on Thursday. Which left Cassie with the one-off jobs.

  She opened the nearest file and closed it again. She was much too edgy to give her best to a project for kitting out a couple of holiday cottages. The next one was better – contacting old friends and extended family for a lady from Cardiff who was planning a surprise birthday party for her husband, and who didn’t want to be caught making calls. Straightforward and methodical. Cassie pulled the phone towards her and dialled the first Price-Jones on her list.

  Jake McQuire stood on the pavement in Walcot Street, staring at the
pillar-box red door in front of him. The colour was so typical of the Cassie Travers he remembered that he almost laughed. The single word Concierge was etched on a glass fanlight over the door. A laminated card, pinned to a shiny red panel, gave the opening times of the office. What had he expected? Sober colours and a brass plate? That wasn’t the Cassie he had known.

  He looked up at the first-floor windows. Her office was up there. She was up there. She didn’t want to see him. Benita had made that clear. But now there was a job she couldn’t do alone.

  He exhaled deeply. What he was about to do was crazy. On an insanity scale of one to ten, it probably hovered somewhere near eleven. He knew it, and he was going to do it anyway. It was too late to back out now. The thing has already started.

  He stepped up and gave the door a shove. It opened easily. He put his foot on the stair, and began to climb.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The sound of a small commotion in the outer office broke into Cassie’s phone calls. She was on her feet, ready to greet a prospective client, when the door swung open.

  ‘Hi, Slick. How you doing? I hear you’re prepared to pay money to sleep with me.’

  Cassie’s chair creaked in protest as she dropped back into it. Her legs had gone to water. She had just enough presence of mind to stop her mouth gaping. The only sound that came out of her throat, when she tried to speak, was a low moan.

  He looked … gorgeous. There was no other word for it. Dark hair, those incredible blue eyes, the mouth, the cheekbones, lightly tanned skin, wide shoulders. He was bigger, bulkier with muscle, under the expensive suit.

  He was in her office.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here, McQuire?’

  This time she got her legs under control and stood up. He was shutting the door behind him, smiling at Benita as he closed it. That smile …

  ‘Sorry, Slick? Is there a problem? Benita said you wanted to hire me. Something about needing a husband?’

  ‘Not you! Someone from the agency.’ The words came out sideways, through gritted teeth.

  He was looking around the room, as if he was valuing it. ‘Nice office.’