Guardian to the Heiress (17 page)

“How does this happen?
Why
does it happen?” Damon asked, not understanding it at all.

“She used to say she loved him. She was terribly upset when he lost his job at the restaurant—his temper, I’d say. She said Tarik was raised to believe it was no big deal hitting a woman in the family. His father beat his mother. He told Tracey that.”

“And that wasn’t enough to warn her off? Some women must be easy to brainwash.”

Carol had to agree. “Tracey always appeared quite normal, but there must be something seriously amiss with her. The funny thing is, I’ve seen her go out of her way to provoke him. And she did it at the worst possible times. Weird!”

“The police will continue to keep an eye on him,” Damon said. “The matter is not closed. I’ve hired another man, by the way. Whoever did this is known to you, Carol—maybe even to me. They
will
be caught.”

But when?

* * *

The weeks passed and no one was caught. Neither did the incident get into the papers; Damon made sure of that. He had done everything he could do to protect Carol, all too aware her great inheritance had only brought danger into her life. So all the while he was on high alert, as were the bodyguards who continued to shadow her. One private investigator had been given the exclusive job of following Tracey’s boyfriend. The agency had an excellent reputation. He knew Carol had her fears but she didn’t speak about them. She went about business in a highly professional way. He was proud of her.

He drove her to and fro; she hadn’t wanted a new car. He knew the whole incident weighed heavily on her. And him. If anyone decided to attack Carol, they would have to attack him first.

Information came to him all the time. He made sure Carol wasn’t trapped in her apartment. As the Chancellor heiress, she was now being invited everywhere, as was he. He knew people were talking, but he couldn’t help that. There was too much at stake. They didn’t go to restaurants. Too many people had formed the habit of coming up to their table. He didn’t think there was any danger at functions where many people were gathered. No one could attack Carol and hope to get away.

Unless they were certifiably mad.

* * *

With February came the return to university. This was her final year, a big year. Sometimes she sighted Gary Prescott leaving the building as she came out of the lift. He had stopped leaving messages for her, accepting the fact she had little intention of taking up his invitations. In another lifetime, she might have had coffee with him. But her present life had changed to the extent she had a driver to take her to and from classes. It was all a bit much, but Damon considered it necessary. And there was no use complaining.

A few days later she rode down in the lift with Gary. She had a class that morning at the St James campus in the centre of Sydney’s legal and business district. Nearly all her classes were held not at the central location but at the new law school building at Camperdown, opened by the Governor General of Australia, Quentin Bryce, in 2009.

“I guess you know Dad has gone back to Mum,” Gary told her with some satisfaction. “I have the use of the penthouse until he sells it.
If
he sells it. For all I know, Dad could run off the rails again.”

“I sincerely hope he doesn’t, Gary.” She studied his face. “It upsets you, doesn’t it?”

“Mum is so good.”

“I’m sure your father realises that.”

“I hope so.”

The lift door opened and they stepped out into the foyer. “What’s with the driver?” he asked. “I see him there all the time. Can’t you drive yourself to uni?”

“Accident to my car,” she said briefly.

“Troy never told me that.”

She stopped in her tracks. “You know my cousin?”

“Of course I know him. We went to uni together. Can’t say he’s a friend of mine, but I know him. I run into him now and again. He reckons that lawyer guy of yours is making a big play for you.”

Carol gave a definite sigh. “That’s the story he’s putting around. It’s not true, Gary. I’d appreciate it if you’d quash the rumour. Damon Hunter is a man of integrity.”

She spoke so forcefully, Gary laughingly backed off. “Okay, I believe you. Never liked your cousin anyway. Hear he got the big bucks—he’s more up himself than ever. He’ll get more when his mother kicks the bucket. She got plenty from her old man.”

Carol looked surprised. She knew little about Dallas’s family.

“Surely you know Barney Lebermann was her old man?” Gary stood looking down at her.

“Well, yes, I did know her maiden name was Lebermann.”

“The country’s biggest luxury car dealer,” Gary said. “Centurion bought him out years ago. The guy had a whole collection of vintage vehicles. He collected them like works of art. All European—even had an old London taxi. Not a lot of people knew about his collection. My dad did—he’s a car enthusiast. Troy’s mother used to drive a very nice Italian sports car when she was young. Used to look after it herself, according to Troy, if you could ever believe him.”

That struck a dismal chord. “Well, that’s something I never knew. I was estranged from the family from age five.”

“But you’re back together again now?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Carol said. “Can I give you a lift anywhere, Gary? I’m going into the CBD—class at the St James campus.”

“That’d suit me fine. Dad told me to show up early. This is as early as it gets. I’m working for him, you know.”

* * *

Class over, Carol rang her driver to let him know. He told her to wait outside the Philip Street entrance. He was only five or six minutes away. Carol caught up with two of her fellow students who fired off a couple of questions. Everyone knew Carol Chancellor was
very
smart and she could always be relied upon to clarify difficult points in their lectures.

Outside the front of the building on her own, Carol saw a taxi drop off a passenger. It was Tracey. She hadn’t heard a word from Tracey over the last month or so. In short, having gone back to Tarik, Tracey had cut herself off from her friends who had so disapproved of him. There was no doubt in Carol’s mind that she had to speak to her.

She moved forward as the taxi moved off. “Trace?”

There was a moment when it looked like Tracey was about to bolt.

“Please, Tracey, a word. I won’t keep you.”

“I know, I know. I should have got in touch with you, Carol.” Tracey’s embarrassment was evident. “You were always so nice to me. So kind and supportive.”

“But you’re back with Tarik now?”

Tracey cast her eyes onto the pavement. “He’s so sorry for what he did. We’re having counselling. He hasn’t laid a finger on me—I’ve told him I’ll leave him for good if he does.”

“And will you?” Carol asked gravely.

“I really believe he’s going to change. You look so beautiful, Caro. I’ve missed you. I want you to know Tarik had nothing to do with that accident the police spoke to us about. He was with me.”

“All the time?”

“All the time,” Tracey said, not defensively, but most emphatically. “Tarik wouldn’t dare to hurt my friends. He’s all talk. He knows what would happen to him if he did. We were nowhere near your grandfather’s country house—I mean
your
country house. We were in Sydney the whole time. I swear to you, Caro, Tarik is a changed man. I’m pregnant.”

Oh, God!
“Tracey!” Carol said, leaning forward to give her old friend a big hug. “You don’t show.”

“Only just found out. Tarik is thrilled out of his mind. Look, it’s lovely to see you, but I must fly. I have an appointment.”

“I’m here if you need me, Tracey,” Carol said. She didn’t trust Tarik so she didn’t give out her phone numbers. “Damon Hunter is my go-between. He will let me know.”

“I’m fine, Caro. Honestly. You take good care of yourself.”

“You, too, Trace.”

Tracey sped off. Carol knew she was unlikely to hear from Tracey again. Tarik controlled her. At the same time, would Tracey lie for him, given her old friend Amanda could have been killed? Hard to tell.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I
T
WAS
WELL
after six before Damon could leave the office. Carol had rung him saying she had some news and could he call in at her apartment. Emotion had coloured her voice. He had asked her what she’d found out, but she wouldn’t tell him, saying she didn’t want to speak on the phone.

“Just come if you can.”

“I’ll be there.”

He would always be there for her. It was as simple and as difficult as that. He had come to accept he would go to hell and back to keep Carol Chancellor safe.

“Hi,” she said, looking up at him. The irises of her eyes were the most intense blue.

He bent his head to brush her petal-soft cheek. A lovely rose scent came from her skin and her hair. “So what’s up?” It was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms. Surely the control he continued to exert was a powerful gauge of his love? He was madly in love for the first time in his life. It was an extraordinary sensation, not being able to give in completely to his deepest desires. But there was such a thing as a code of conduct.

“Come into the living room,” she invited. “Would you like a drink?”

“A shot of whisky would be good. It’s been a long day.”

“Let me get it for you.” She moved off in her graceful way.

“How’s everything going?” He took off his jacket.

“I’m working hard, Damon. I won’t let you down.”

“I didn’t mean that. How
are
you?”

“A bit different from yesterday.” She came back with his drink. She was wearing indigo-blue cotton denim jeans with a sleeveless hot-pink shirt that, far from clashing with her hair, made a fine colour contrast. She took the sofa opposite him as though she, too, was trying to adhere to a code of conduct.

He took a gulp of the single-malt Scotch. “I’m all attention.”

“I could be making a lot out of nothing.”

“Not you, Carol. Anyway, let me be the judge of that.”

“Okay.” Carol launched into the events of the day: her meetings with Gary Prescott and the accidental meeting with her old friend Tracey, now pregnant to her formerly abusive lover. Tarik, according to Tracey, was a changed man.

Could a leopard change its spots?

Damon listened without once interrupting. “Let’s not rush to judgement. But your uncle knew all this without saying a word.”

“I think Dallas has some power over him.”

“That could well be. He certainly doesn’t love her. Maybe staying with her is a form of self-preservation. Dallas probably shared her father’s passion for cars. She lived in the world of cars, luxury cars. I don’t know whether she would be capable of servicing a sports car. I think not, but she’d know a lot. She’d know how to disable a car. Any car.”

“Do we really think she’d be capable of trying to injure, even kill me? That’s a giant leap.”

“It sure is.”

She could see how intent he was. “Has she gone mad, for God’s sake?”

“She might feel she had enormous
provocation. She’s lost too much over the years. She lost her husband along the way, unfaithful to her with your mother. One can’t discount naked jealousy. Then there’s the fact she no more wants to leave Beaumont than your uncle. She knows you are going to ask them to leave eventually. In her eyes, you humiliated her son. Your mother humiliated her. There’s a sick reasoning to it—enough to suspect her, anyway. When the police questioned her, you would have thought she didn’t know one end of a car from the other.”

“I supposed Uncle Maurice always did the driving. Stupid of me. If she tampered with the brakes of my car, she has to be stark-raving bonkers. I mean, what’s she going to do next, wave a gun at me? Get someone else to do it? She was going out on the shoot, you know. Uncle Maurice is the country squire and she’s the lady of the manor. In a way, she’s a whole lot tougher than my mother. Uncle Maurice truly doesn’t believe Roxanne had anything to do with my father’s accident.”

“But he backed Dallas in order to survive. There has to be something she has on him worth investigating. Maybe a spot of embezzling? I wouldn’t be unduly surprised.”

“Maybe Uncle Maurice never thought for a moment she would deliberately sabotage the brakes?”

“She had motive. She had opportunity. You had garaged your car. Troy took his own car. He left early. His mother saw him off. It’s very plausible.”

“And simply too dreadful if it’s true. Amanda and Summer could have been badly injured, even killed. No wonder she went as white as a sheet when the police arrived. I thought she was showing a bit of heart.”

“Well,
you
were the target, not your friends.”

“So what do we do with this? Leave it alone?”

“All actions have consequences, Carol.”

“Can you imagine what a scandal it would create if we pointed the finger at Dallas?”

“People love scandals, especially among the rich.” Damon masked his deep concern with sarcasm.

“Do you think Troy would have stepped back and let me die?” she asked in horror.

“Do you think he could have helped his mother?” The very thought robbed her of breath.

“No, I don’t.” Damon had already arrived at his conclusion. “Troy might be a lightweight with too much money for his own good, but he’s leading a fairly normal
life. He’s so arrogant he had thought it could include you. He isn’t after the money or the huge responsibilities. He would find them an enormous burden. He had hopes for the two of you. You successfully crushed them. He’d be angry and mortified but he’d eventually shrug it off. Make a future joke of it. Can’t you see him?”

In a way she could. “How can anyone know? Barely six months have gone by since my grandfather died and someone is trying to get me out of the way. What do they
want?
Was it
wrong
for my grandfather to make me his heir? Didn’t he consider for a moment he could be putting me in danger? He
knew
his family. He
knew
Dallas.”

“He may have had little time for them, Carol, but I’m certain he didn’t see them as potential murderers.” Damon tried to calm her.

“He had no trouble believing it of my mother,” she said bitterly.

“Carol, Selwyn Chancellor lost his adored son and heir.
Your grandmother, Elaine, lost her son. They said the things they did because they were off their heads with grief.
They were looking for a culprit. Roxanne fitted the bill.”

“Well, she wasn’t exactly squeaky clean, was she?” Carol said dismally. “Two brothers shared her. At least we now know Adam was my father.” DNA tests had been conducted and the results delivered. Carol had avoided telling her mother, not actually believing her mother would care.

“All we have is circumstantial evidence. No proof. I could confront Dallas,” he suggested, wanting to spare Carol further trauma.

“
We
can confront her,” Carol said. “She’s not innocent.”

Damon shook his head. “We don’t know that, Carol. Tracey could well be covering for the father of her coming child. If she’s crazy enough to go back to her abuser, to allow herself to fall pregnant to him, we have to assume she’s capable of lying for him, as well.”

“Let’s start on Dallas first.” Carol felt suddenly beyond fear. She had Damon on her side. Who else did she need?

* * *

They left their visit to the following Saturday. Carol informed her uncle she would be coming. She didn’t say why; for all she knew, Dallas could arm herself with a weapon.

“There comes a time to confront people,” Carol said determinedly as the massive gates to Beaumont opened.

She didn’t sound angry or afraid. She sounded ready to go into battle. “Allow the possibility we could be wrong, Carol,” Damon warned.

“Only we’re
not
wrong.”

Maurice Chancellor himself greeted them at the door. “This is a pleasant surprise. Come in. Come in. You’re staying for the weekend, I hope?”

“Just today, Uncle Maurice, as I said.”

“Mrs Chancellor at home?” Damon asked, raising his glance to the gallery.

“As a matter of fact, she’s not. She’s visiting a friend.”

“Might I suggest you ring her and get her to come back home?” Damon said. “Where exactly does her friend live?”

Maurice looked from one to the other. “Is anything wrong? You’ve found out something about the accident? You could have told me on the phone. We were terribly anxious.”

Carol thought it was going to get a whole lot worse before it got better. “So, how far away is Dallas? Please don’t tell me Hong Kong.”

Maurice Chancellor flushed. “My dear girl, she’s down the road.
Mayfair—
you would have passed it. Not that you can see the house from the road. But come in, come in. You’d like coffee, I expect?”

“Thank you, Uncle Maurice,” Carol said. “I’ll go through to the kitchen while you ring Dallas. It’s most important she be here.”

Maurice knitted his brows. “What for? Dallas knows nothing.”

“About what, sir?” Damon intervened. “We haven’t said why we want to speak to you both.”

“
We
now, is it?” Maurice looked more accepting than disapproving.

“I am Carol’s lawyer and advisor,” Damon pointed out smoothly. “It was your father’s wish.”

“Of course it was. I’ll ring Dallas from the study.” He made off.

He must have had some difficulty persuading his wife to return because when they saw him again, his colour was high and he looked thoroughly rattled.

“Didn’t want to come?” Carol asked.

“Isn’t that the truth,” he responded wryly. “A very tough lady, is my wife.”

“What’s she got on you, Uncle Maurice? We know it’s something.”

The wryness shifted to extreme nervousness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Carol.”

Damon cut in. “You’re being given the opportunity, sir, to come clean. If Dallas weren’t your wife, one might suspect her of blackmailing you into staying in a loveless marriage.”

Maurice Chancellor looked so badly shocked he might have been shot in the heart. “She could ruin me. It was in the early days of our marriage. My father was withholding money from me. He was always intent on pointing out how ineffective I was. Adam was the great hero, the son made in his own corporate image. I freely admit I’m no great shakes when it comes to business, but I managed to siphon off quite a few million. I was fool enough to tell Dallas. In the early days, she went through quite a lot of money, believe it or not. She always had to have a high-end luxury car. Of course, her father at the time was one of the country’s luxury car dealers.”

“And she threatened to go to your father when you became involved with my mother?” Carol asked.

“Exactly.” Maurice Chancellor hung his head. He looked wretched. “I’ll pay it all back, Carol. At least my father left me a rich man.”

“I have just the charity you can donate it to,” Carol flashed back. “How many million was it, Uncle Maurice? I dare say we can find out.”

* * *

Dallas Chancellor arrived thirty minutes later, half circling the drive fast and braking right at the foot of the stone steps. To say she looked furious wouldn’t adequately describe it. Dallas Chancellor had little difficulty working herself into a volcanic rage.

“What is this all about?” She stared around the group with over-bright, steely-grey eyes. They had finished coffee and were sitting quietly waiting for her.

“A chat,” Damon said. “Won’t you sit down, Mrs Chancellor?”

It said a lot for his natural authority that she did just that. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s so important it couldn’t keep?” She plonked herself down heavily into an armchair.

“The little matter of the car crash,” Damon said as though it was nothing to worry about. “We all know it wasn’t an accident. When the police questioned you, Mrs Chancellor, you acted outraged. It was a fine performance. You never said you knew a great deal about cars.”

“So what?” Dallas shot back. “It was irrelevant.”

“No, it was you concealing a significant fact.” His tone firmed. “The fact you know cars could explain what might have happened. On your own admission, you hate Carol’s mother.”

“Positively
loathe
her,” Dallas confirmed.

“We all know that. A couple of days ago, Carol ran into someone who told her all about your father and his collection of vintage cars. From all accounts, you loved cars as much as your father. You favoured an Italian make, I believe?”

“So what?” Dallas repeated as though she could keep it up forever.

Maurice Chancellor picked up a silver pot on a silver tray and poured himself some cold coffee.

“We’re hoping you’ll tell us what you’re trying to hide.” Carol forgot Damon’s lawyerly words of caution. “It was you who tampered with the brakes of my car. You had the opportunity when you saw Troy off. You had the necessary skill.”

Two things happened. Dallas laughed and the coffee cup fell out of Maurice Chancellor’s nerveless hand onto the beautiful rug. “God! Say something, Dallas,” he begged. “This can’t possibly be true. It’s that Tarik fella. The police thought so, though they mightn’t be able to pin it on him with his trumped-up alibi.”

“Of course it is!” was Dallas’s swift reply. “You’ve put two and two together, Carol, my dear, and come up with ten.”

Damon’s expression turned severely judicial. “We are, however, going to the police with what we’ve learned, Mrs Chancellor. There’s a tremendous amount of hate
in you. All those years of jealousy deepened and darkened. The police are not in possession of the true facts. They saw you as a rich woman who genuinely knows nothing about the mechanics of cars. They’ll have a fine time chewing over what we’ve since discovered. They’ll have questions. They’ll expect you to come up with the right answers.”

“Except you
can’t,
can you?” Carol felt pressure behind her eyes, tried to blink it away.

Cold coffee was seeping into the valuable rug but no one paid any attention. Maurice Chancellor sat back, staring around so woozily he could have been drunk.

“I saw Troy off then I went back upstairs
immediately,
” Dallas announced in her best ‘lady of the manor’ voice. “My husband will confirm that,” she added with utter confidence.