False Money (24 page)

‘For instance, Duncan and Julian were fast friends from prep school. They all knew about and deplored Shirley's habit of drinking and driving. Claudine and Hermia get on so well that they've been on holiday together. Hermia and Jamie have been pushed together by their families since childhood and, though they don't want to marry, there's a strong bond of loyalty there. I can't see Jamie bestirring himself enough to murder anyone, but he frequently played golf with Nick. Nick pestered women even before his wife left him. Nick was not much liked, but they put up with him because they've all known one another for so long. He seems to have deteriorated since his marriage went sour. He went out with Claudine at one time, but he also made a pass at Tomi, who slapped his face.

‘One of them – can't remember who – called Harry a cheapskate, and Hermia thought Tomi could have done better. The women both said how much they'd liked Tomi. They all admire Gregor and his ability to move money around, and none of them is willing to finger him to the police. They're ambivalent about Jamie's fiancée, but that might be because she isn't one of them.'

CJ said, ‘Don't stop to think about it, but tell me, do you trust Claudine?'

No hesitation. ‘Yes. If she didn't want to answer a question, she told me to mind my own business. She's too decisive, too busy to bother embroidering the truth.'

‘Hermia?'

Remember that bright, white, eager-to-impress smile. ‘Not entirely, no. There was something about the way she spoke of her career, her income . . . Did she protest too much that she didn't need the money?'

‘Duncan?'

‘At the time, yes. I thought he was whiter than white. Now, I don't know. The girl he wants to marry is Julian's sister, which means he's saddling himself with a gambler for a brother-in-law.'

CJ said, ‘I've been making some enquiries. Duncan's firm is in the process of being taken over by a conglomerate, and the word is he's facing redundancy.'

Bea threw up her hands. ‘He didn't say anything about that. He made out he was doing all right. I wonder if any of the others are in trouble, money wise. It would explain why they're all so cagey.'

‘What did you think of Jamie?'

Bea looked across at Oliver. ‘Oliver said he wouldn't trust him with a loan. I think he's had everything too easy, all his life. I think he's the kind who doesn't actually lie if he's in trouble, but somehow wriggles out of it. The others speak of him as if he were a slightly backward younger brother. Childhood links remain stronger than civic duty.'

CJ picked up his cup and took a sip of ultra-strong coffee. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he uttered no word of complaint. ‘If the police start interviewing them, those childhood links will break down.'

‘But not until Tuesday morning, by which time someone else may be dead.'

‘Who do you reckon is next for the chop?' asked Oliver.

Bea said, ‘How should I know? They're all taking Gregor's advice, I assume. Hermia has anchored Chris to her side. Jamie and Duncan have got themselves attached to women. Claudine has gone off to Brussels for the weekend; she has a new partner who . . .' Bea hesitated. ‘Now there's something else that's been bothering me. Suppose the murderer isn't one of these five, but someone whom they've talked to?'

‘What?' said CJ. ‘They all swore themselves to secrecy.'

‘Possibly some of them kept that vow, but we do know that some of them talked about it amongst themselves. For instance, Claudine mentioned her dream of buying a small independent school to me. She plans to run it herself, possibly with the aid of her new partner, who is also a teacher. I think that if I were in Claudine's shoes I might well have been tempted – in strictest confidence, of course – to confide in him.'

Oliver sipped his coffee with every evidence of satisfaction. ‘Which makes Claudine's partner keen to knock out some of the others, in order to increase her share of the proceeds?'

There was a considering silence.

‘Prove it,' said CJ, but he sounded half convinced.

‘It's human nature,' said Bea. ‘Keeping secrets is not easy; particularly ones which are going to bring you good fortune. For instance, Tomi's mother said she knew her daughter was due for a windfall. All right, I know her mother wasn't even in England at the time of Tomi's death – at least, I assume so – but she's not the only one who might have been given a hint that the future was going to be bright. Let's face it, if you were a man proposing to a girl, you'd probably give her a hint that you're going to be better off than she might have imagined.'

‘You think Duncan might have talked to his girlfriend?'

‘Dropped a hint, yes. The other possibility is that a partner or friend might have overheard one of the telephone conversations which Duncan and Hermia made to their friends, telling them of the big lottery win. Duncan said he'd made sure the people he phoned were alone, but all that means is that he asked them if they were alone, and they said, “Yes.” That might not have been the exact truth.'

Oliver drank the rest of his coffee. ‘Do you think there might have been a joint effort? One of the survivors, plus an accomplice?'

Silence.

CJ groaned. ‘This widens the field so much, it's practically all horizon.' He pushed aside his coffee, almost untouched, and got up. ‘I don't see that we can do anything more for the time being. Each one of the five has been warned of the danger. Monday sees the division of spoils, and after that we can hand the matter over to the police. And it's way past my bedtime.'

Oliver snapped shut his laptop, said, ‘I'll see you out,' and left as well.

Bea, exhausted, stretched out on the settee, shucked off her shoes and put her feet up, only to start upright on hearing an altercation at the front door. Oliver put his head back into the room, but before he could speak a tall figure in black pushed past him. Piers, her first husband. In some kind of trouble?

‘Sorry to barge in on you like this,' he said, shutting the door in Oliver's face.

‘Trouble?' said Bea, imagining a thousand different tragedies affecting her family. She waited, sending up an arrow prayer.
Dear Lord, it's bad news
,
I'm sure of it. Give me strength, courage. And common sense.

Piers paced the sitting room floor. He was almost, but not quite, wringing his hands, concentrating on some inner torment. ‘Bea, what do you know about Pippin's new nanny?'

‘Nothing, except that they've got one. Why?'

‘I don't know. Maybe I'm imagining things. I'm sure I am. But you could check her out, couldn't you?'

‘Calm down.' Her own pulse was racing. Piers wasn't one to get into a state for nothing. ‘Start at the beginning.'

He made a big effort to calm himself, and sat down. ‘I went round to Max's this afternoon. He'd gone off up north early, and Nicole was drooping around with some kind of fluey cold. She said you two had had a row and that he'd forbidden you the house for the time being. I told her that I thought that was rather harsh. I said she should look at it from your point of view, that you wanted desperately to help, but perhaps had not been altogether wise in the way you did it.'

‘Ouch,' said Bea. ‘Yes, I suppose I was tactless, but—'

‘Being a portrait painter is sometimes like being a psychoanalyst. People talk freely while I'm working. I've heard often enough how bereft women feel when their sons get married and cut down on communication. You remember that old saying, “my son is my son till he gets him a wife, but my daughter's my daughter all of her life”? That happens all the time.'

‘Yes,' said Bea, sighing. ‘I've learned that the hard way. I must never ever offer advice, even when I see things going wrong.'

Piers wasn't listening to her. ‘Pippin was awake and fussing, but not crying as he has been most of the times I'd dropped in. I asked if I could pick him up, and Nicole said we'd have to ask permission from Nurse, who had taken charge of him. So out popped this pretty little thing, and she said she'd heard all about me and knew I'd be careful. So I lifted him up and walked around with him, and he looked up at me, and we chatted away to one another. Well, I suppose I chatted, and he listened. It was the first time he'd ever listened to me, and I felt . . . honoured.

‘I said it looked as if he were putting on weight at last, and Nicole said that yes, he was, at long last, and it was all due to Nurse. Nurse dimpled away at me and made sure I saw the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. Now I'm used to women throwing themselves at me, hoping I'll fall at their feet and ask them to sit for their portrait. She didn't do that, but she . . . she was sizing me up, far more than was usual for a casual encounter.

‘I got quite a shock when I met her eyes, because the way she was looking at me . . . I couldn't pin it down at first, but it came to me later that inside that pretty little head lived Tyrannosaurus Rex, and that she'd been sizing me up for the kill.'

‘Oh, really?' Bea was tired and wanted to go to bed.

He was stubborn. ‘All right, I didn't take to her. It might have been a trick of the light. A moment later she was all soft and maternal. She took Pippin from me and cooed at him. He stared back at her, but he didn't smile and for some reason I felt extremely alarmed. You'll say I'm making this up, and I can't prove anything. Afterwards, I couldn't get her out of my mind. I went home and tried sketching her in charcoal and she turned into a vulture.'

Bea pressed her fingers over her closed eyes. ‘You know I can't interfere.'

‘I got her name. Claire Stourton. She came through a day nannies agency. I thought you might check up on her.'

‘I can't do that without giving a reason. You know perfectly well that this spat with Nicole is all about control of Max and Pippin.'

‘Yes, I know that. Nicole's always been jealous of you, and with reason. Max does pick them, doesn't he? Well, I've done my bit. Warned you. I don't see what else I can do.'

‘Keep dropping in on them, will you?'

‘A spy in the camp?'

‘Precisely.'

He left, and she dragged herself up to bed, praying on each step.
Dear Lord, help. Dear Lord, what's going on here? Piers isn't usually fanciful. If there is something amiss here . . . Dear Lord, protect Pippin.

Tomorrow she'd check on Clare Stourton.

Bea woke to the sound of gentle rain falling outside, and to the feeling that the house felt warmer than it had been. Perhaps the temperature had risen. If so,
Thank You, Lord, and thank You for a good night's sleep. And please don't let me obsess about things I can't do anything about.

She drew back the curtains. There was no frost on the garden, and the light was growing brighter and stronger every minute. As she watched, the rain ceased and the sun broke through the clouds. A good omen?

Maggie was on the phone all through breakfast, first chasing up a tiler who hadn't finished a job to her satisfaction, and then to Zander, arranging to meet him at the station for a day trip to Brighton. Oliver brought a laptop to the breakfast table. He ate and drank absent-mindedly, frowning away. Perhaps he ought to have his eyesight tested?

When they'd finished eating, Bea shooed Maggie out, cleared the table around Oliver, and went down to see what if anything needed her attention in the agency.

Miss Brook was on duty and nothing needed Bea's attention that very minute, so she logged on to the Internet and made a list of agencies which specialized in day nannies. There were a considerable number. She told herself that Piers had been overreacting yesterday, and that there couldn't possibly be anything wrong with Max's new nanny. Still, it didn't do any harm to check. If she could find out where Claire lived, she could call on her, see if she really was a snake in the grass.

She struck lucky at the third agency. Yes, they had a Claire Stourton on their books, and did Mrs Abbot wish to book her for her new baby? Ah, wait a minute, Claire was with a Mrs Abbot at the moment. Was there something wrong? Claire came most highly recommended.

‘No, everything's fine,' said Bea, improvising. ‘She's with my daughter-in-law, in fact, but there was some talk of my paying part of the agency bill. My son wants to do everything himself, of course, but—'

‘Ah, yes. The Member of Parliament. Of course, we are accustomed to providing nannies for the very best houses.'