Deception and Desire (15 page)

‘Well – anyone. Anyone Ros might have talked to or confided in.'

‘I have already explained we are totally in the dark,' Liz put in. ‘I took Ros's call and she didn't say anything by way of explanation to me.' She was still looking extremely hot and bothered, Maggie thought, and she clearly had no intention of finishing whatever she had been about to say when Steve Lomax had put in his appearance.

‘I was rather hoping Ros might have mentioned something of her plans to your mother,' Maggie said. ‘They are quite close, I imagine.'

A corner of Steve's mouth twisted. ‘You imagine right. As a PA Ros is invaluable to my mother, who is not actually the most efficient person in the world. Ros organises her beautifully. But I don't think Dinah has any more idea where Ros is than the rest of us. She's pretty miffed with her at the moment, actually, for leaving her in the lurch, as she sees it.

Maggie nodded. ‘ I'd still have liked to speak to her myself, though. There might be something … could I make an appointment, perhaps?'

‘Her diary is very full …' Liz began defensively.

‘I wouldn't take up much of her time. Surely if she's missing Ros it would be as much in her interests as anyone's to try and track her down.'

‘Well this afternoon is right out, I'm afraid. And tomorrow …'

‘I have a far better idea,' Steve said. ‘We are having a small dinner party tomorrow evening. Why don't you come and meet my mother then?'

‘A private dinner party? Oh no, thank you, but I couldn't possibly intrude.'

‘You wouldn't be. It will only be my mother, Don Kennedy, her accountant, Jayne Peters-Browne, the new designer, and her husband, and myself. All Vandina people with the exception of Drew Peters-Browne – one of them might be able to shed some light on your problem.' He smiled, that smile that could turn the hardest-nosed female into a jelly of desire. ‘Actually Ros should have been making up the six. Since she's not here I would be delighted if you would come in her place, and I know Dinah will agree with me.'

A slight rustle of papers made Maggie glance at Liz. The secretary was bending over her desk, fiddling conspicuously with a pile of documents and looking rather put out. Perhaps she would have liked to have been invited to dinner in Ros's place, Maggie thought.

‘Well, can we make it a date?' The look in Steve's eyes might almost have been a challenge. ‘ Unless, of course, you have other arrangements …'

Maggie made up her mind.

‘No – I don't. And thank you, I'd be very pleased to accept your invitation.'

‘Good. Do you have your own transport or shall I send a car for you? In fact, that might be an idea in any case. Then you'll be able to have a drink without worrying about having to drive. Where are you staying?'

Maggie frowned slightly, wondering how Steve knew she was ‘staying' anywhere. Unless of course Ros had talked about her sister in Corfu. That must be it.

‘At Ros's cottage,' she said. ‘You know where that is?'

‘I do. I'll have the car pick you up at around seven. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm trying to wade through some of my mother's paperwork – one of the jobs Ros would normally do. And Liz – give me five minutes and then bring your notebook in, if you would. I'd like to dictate some letters.'

The dismissal was polite but firm. That young man knows what he wants and goes for it, Maggie thought.

‘Thank you, Mr Lomax, I'll look forward to it,' she said.

In the doorway he turned, cool glance appraising.

‘So will I. And please, do call me Steve.'

‘Can you find your own way out?' Liz asked. ‘Perhaps I'd better show you.'

‘There's no need. I'm sure I can manage.'

‘It's no trouble.'

She accompanied a rather bewildered Maggie down the stairs and out of the building into the car park, where it quickly became obvious that there was something she wanted to say.

‘Mrs Veritos, you were asking me just now if I knew what Ros has been so screwed up about lately.' She hesitated. ‘I couldn't talk then because Steve was in the next room and I'm not really sure I should say anything at all. But as you are Ros's sister I suppose it would be all right for me to trust you with it … and if it might help you to find Ros … though I can't honestly see what it could have to do with her disappearing …'

‘What?' Maggie asked.

‘Well …' Liz glanced around, as if to make sure no one was within earshot, then went on: ‘Ros thought there might be a mole at Vandina.'

‘A mole?'

‘An industrial spy – checking out our sales figures and contacts on behalf of some third party, even making copies of designs and project sheets for new ideas and passing them back to whoever it is that really employs them. It sounds far-fetched, I know, like James Bond or something, but it does happen. Competition in any industry is very fierce; in the fashion world it can be absolutely cut-throat. It's so terribly important to be the first with original ideas, you see – anyone who can forecast a trend and get in ahead of the field is going to make a killing. Vandina have been leaders for so long now it's almost inevitable that they suffer from this kind of espionage from time to time. Ros believed it's happening now – and I think she may be right. This morning one of our competitors, a new firm called Reubens, broke cover with an idea for a range of bags to be launched in the spring that is practically an exact copy of Dinah's latest idea. It could be coincidence, of course, but I don't actually think that's the case. I think Ros was right – there is someone in a position of trust here at Vandina who is actually working for another company – probably Reubens.'

She stopped, flushed and breathless, and Maggie stared at her in frank amazement.

‘Good heavens! That's creepy! But why should it have anything to do with Ros disappearing?'

Liz shook her head. ‘I honestly don't know. But you asked me what she was worried about and I'm suggesting a reason. Look – I'll have to go. Steve wanted me for dictation and I'd rather he didn't know I'd been talking to you about this. It's terribly sensitive.' She hesitated, that ready flush deepening again. ‘Oh, and Mrs Veritos, please – would you mind not mentioning this to Miss Marshall when you meet her tomorrow evening? I know for a fact Ros didn't want her to know anything about it until she was certain who the mole was. Dinah can get in a dreadful state about things – Ros tries to protect her as far as possible.'

‘But surely she'll have to know?'

‘Eventually, yes. She already knows Reubens have duplicated her idea. When it was in the newspaper this morning I was bound to bring it to her attention. Something like that creates a dreadful situation. There will have to be a major rethink on the whole spring launch, but I'd really rather she didn't hear the worst of it until Ros is here to break it to her herself.' She looked over her shoulder nervously. ‘I'm sorry, but I have to go. And please, you will treat what I've said as absolutely confidential, won't you?'

Before Maggie could question her further she had gone, hurrying back across the car park, and Maggie stood for a moment looking after her and thinking about what she had said. If there really was an industrial spy at Vandina then perhaps it was possible that Ros had gone off to do some checking up. But why should she have been gone so long? It didn't explain anything – only posed more questions. And it had done nothing to dispel the underlying sense of apprehension for her sister's safety that had been with her from the moment she had first heard Ros was missing.

Oh Ros, where the hell
are
you? Maggie asked silently. And if you are all right, why, oh why, don't you get it touch?

Here, as at the cottage, it seemed there was no satisfactory answer.

She told Mike what had happened at Vandina that evening over a casual meal in a country pub – the type of place Maggie still missed desperately in spite of all the lovely alfresco tavernas she had become used to in Corfu. It was pleasant, of course, to eat at tables covered with neat checked cloths within sight and sound of the sea, pleasant to watch the sun dip towards the horizon so suddenly that it was there one moment, a ball of fire, and gone the next, leaving only a scarlet stain on the dark water, pleasant to listen to the strains of the balalaika while eating freshly-caught seafood and to see the taverna owner performing traditional Greek dances with one or more of his small sons, but enjoying these things did not stop Maggie from longing for the typically English atmosphere of a smoky crowded pub.

The Haywain was everything she could have wished for. The bare wood tables were set around the centrepiece of a great stone fireplace – though thankfully, poor as the weather had been, it was not so bad as to require a fire to be lit in midsummer – the walls were decorated with horse brasses and there was a shelf housing a collection of eccentric Toby jugs. From a varied menu and a blackboard announcing the day's specials Maggie had chosen home-made steak and kidney pie, that most English of dishes, but when it arrived, steam issuing invitingly from vents in the thick pastry crust, she found she had very little appetite. Ever since leaving Vandina the knot of anxiety in her stomach had been growing, and now the delicious aroma of the steak and gravy made her feel slightly queasy.

Mike, however, was not in the habit of letting worry affect his appetite. He too had chosen steak and kidney pie and within minutes both his dish and the one containing the extra chips – ‘Real chips, not French fries,' he had said with satisfaction – were empty.

‘Now tell me how you got on at Vandina,' he said, taking a long pull from his tall glass of lager.

Maggie told him. She had promised Liz Christopher confidentiality, of course, but in her book sharing it with Mike did not count.

‘Well,' he said when she had finished. ‘It's all good, fascinating stuff but I'm not sure how much further forward it takes us. Especially since Liz didn't tell you who she thought might be responsible for the leaks at Vandina.'

‘I know. And not being able to mention it to Dinah is another bind. I can't imagine what I can find out from her tomorrow night without raising the subject.' She toyed with a forkful of meat. ‘I spent the afternoon phoning everyone I could think of – all Ros's old friends – but I drew blanks there too. I feel as if I've run into a blind alley, Mike. I honestly don't know what to do next.'

He nodded thoughtfully.

‘I feel the same. It's the way I felt before I got in touch with you – absolutely helpless. When I knew you were coming over at least I felt purposeful again, but I think that was just an illusion.'

‘I'm sorry.' She gave up the attempt at eating, putting down her knife and fork. ‘Somehow we've got to make the police take this seriously. I still have the feeling something is dreadfully wrong but I just don't know what to do about it. What did they say about her car?'

‘I told you – it's parked outside the railway station. They maintain that is proof that she's gone off somewhere by train, and I suppose they could be right. It's all locked up and legally parked. Who else would have left it there but Ros? And why would she leave it there if she wasn't catching a train?'

‘Have they checked it out?' Maggie asked.

‘Checked it out?'

‘Looked inside to see if there's anything that might give a clue.'

‘I doubt it. They didn't say so. I would imagine they would take the view that they would need more evidence of something suspicious having happened to Ros before they break into a locked car legally parked. What sort of clue were you thinking of?'

‘I don't know really. But all sorts of things get left in cars, don't they? I wonder if Ros had a spare set of keys? If she had, and I could find them, I'd go and have a look inside myself.'

‘Could be an idea. But somehow I can't imagine Ros leaving anything of importance in her car.'

Maggie said nothing. He was right, of course, Ros wasn't the sort to leave things lying about. She was far too well organised. But that was exactly what was so disturbing about this whole thing – there was so much that simply did not fit in with Ros's character. Maggie had held back from voicing the thought that was in her mind; she did not want to add that what she really wanted to see was if there was any evidence of someone else having been in the car with Ros – Brendan perhaps?

‘Do you want another drink?' Mike asked.

She shook her head. ‘I don't think so.'

‘Shall we go, then?'

‘Don't you want another one? If you do, don't let me stop you.'

‘I'd better not. I don't want to fall foul of the breathalyser.'

‘We could always go back to the cottage and have a coffee.'

‘Good idea. I shall be glad to get away from that racket anyway.'

He jerked his head in the direction of an electronic gaming machine which stood in a corner. When they had first arrived Maggie had not even noticed its presence, but whilst they were eating a small group of youths had come in and were feeding it with money. The steady whirr and the occasional clatter as a shower of coins cascaded into the metal tray was annoying. Maggie wondered why a pleasant country pub specialising in good food should have resorted to such a thing.

‘There's money in it, I expect,' Mike said, reading her thoughts. ‘Tenants have to make what they can where they can.'

The sun had set now. As they walked to the car Maggie pulled on her cardigan – a long, loose Professor Higgins style in white cotton – but there was no real warmth in it and she shivered slightly as a cool breeze whipped across the car park.

‘Cold?' Mike asked.

‘I'm all right. It's just that English weather is a bit of a shock to the system after Corfu.'

‘It must be.' Mike unlocked the car and reached across to open the passenger door for her. ‘I don't think I've really thanked you properly, Maggie, for dropping everything at such short notice and coming over.'