The Dead Lie Down (Adam Lennox Thrillers: Book One) (13 page)

While
Bel and Adam absorbed this piece of news a lower form of office life came in
and claimed Brad's signature on a number of documents. When they'd gone Adam
decided to try and push home his advantage, ruthless to the last, no quarter
given, whatever that meant.

Adam changed tack. "So who were John's enemies? Who would want him dead?"

"No-one. I told the police. His only enemies were commercial competitors and I
can't see them going to those lengths, especially when it doesn't actually
affect the company directly."

"So maybe his death was related to the death he witnessed on the Hermes?"
suggested Adam, heaving himself upright from the windowsill, having started to
lose feeling in his backside. "It seems a remarkable co-incidence."

That seemed to irritate Brad. "So you're suggesting that there was something
going on with the Hermes that led to John's death? That's ludicrous. I would
have known about it. Besides," a sneer started to grow across his face. "I
understand that the body was found in the trunk of your burnt out car, which
makes you prime suspect doesn't it? Haven't the cops picked you up and given you
the third degree yet?"

Adam
smiled slowly. "I've just come from there. They tried, got the baseball bats
out, the hose pipes, but apparently I have a cast iron alibi. But you seem keen
enough to point the finger at me. Why's that?"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," said Brad, "I just find it weird."

"What, weird, like Granger Bartlett's death," prompted Adam.

Brad frowned. "I don't get you. What's Granger Bartlett's death got to do with
it? It was an accident from what I heard. It was long before my time."

Adam smiled. "Or weird like Fran's death, which was during your time."

"What, now you're saying I know something about Fran's death? You're completely
cracked. Fran's death was an accident, you know that, accept it. Besides I
wouldn't have harmed Fran." He got up from his chair. "I think it's time you
left before I throw you out."

Adam didn't move but Brad turned his attention to Bel anyway. "When are you
back?"

Adam answered for her. "Bel has received death threats, which are being taken
seriously." He didn't say whom by, of course.

"I may not be back for a couple of weeks." Bel added. "I'm owed anyway."

"In
that case get out. I need to convene a board meeting to get us out of this
godforsaken mess that John has dumped us in."

Now Adam never regarded himself as being prone to flights of fancy but he was
sure that Brad had flinched at the mention of death threats, well one would,
wouldn't one? He just wasn't sure what it meant. Come to that he wasn't sure
what any of it meant.

On the way out they stopped at Derek Travis' office. He was sat behind his desk,
intent on the computer screen in front of him. He looked up as they knocked on
the door. A tall man in his fifties with thinning grey hair and alert eyes.
Reading glasses were perched on top of his head like designer sunglasses. Adam
took an instant liking to him and introduced himself, re-iterating the need for
speed and giving more guidance on what he was looking for. As they left him they
bumped into Brad again in the corridor, going nowhere in particular. Once out of
earshot Adam expressed his concern to Bel.

"You think Brad was a little over-interested in our conversation with
Derek?"

Bel gave him a quizzical look, which she did from time to time.

"You know your tendency to paranoia...?"

He
did the grown up thing and stuck his tongue out at her. It occurred to him that
common need and purpose was overcoming their awkwardness in each other's
company.

Chapter 19

The office appeared to be on automatic pilot when he and Bel returned. Gerry was
in his office studying the racing section whilst Clare was polishing plant
leaves. Adam stopped and surveyed the scene.

"Honestly. I leave you for one minute to go and have a chat and a cup of tea at
the Station and already you're swinging the lead."

Clare grinned. "Drink?"

"Coffee", replied Adam.

"Tea please", said Bel taking off her coat and adding it to the pile on the
coat-stand. The weather hadn't warmed up a great deal and the winter coats were
still in evidence.

A
voice from behind Gerry's paper called out. "They let you go then?"

"No of course not. I'm on parole." Adam said. "Of course they let me out."

Gerry feigned astonishment. "After all, they've no evidence against you have
they? Only the burnt out car, the opportunity and the motive."

"Motive?"

Gerry pointed to Bel. "Of course. Killing him was the only way to get your own
PA."

Bel laughed which seem to brighten the office considerably.

Adam took the six quick strides necessary and swatted the paper out of Gerry's
hands. "I wouldn't bet on anything today. Things are too unpredictable."

Gerry mimicked fear and then reverted to serious. "Barry Sutton called. He wants
to meet tomorrow. Reckons he may have something on this business."

"Talking of business," said Clare. "The zoo rang. They're considering suing us
for criminal damage."

Adam grinned. "Ring them back. Tell them we're considering suing the elephant
for common assault."

He paused. "And whilst you're at it, ring around the city secretaries and find
out discreetly what you can about Bradley Wilding." He glanced at Bel.
"Paranoia. Wins every time."

Back at the flat in the evening, lounging on the settees trying to relax, Bel
watched Adam playing solitaire.

"Okay Lennox, give, what's changed? Something's happened to you today. You're
different."

He put down the cards. "What do you mean different?"

"You're less burdened, freer, more relaxed than I've seen you for a long
time."

He considered for a moment, made a decision and then putting down his cards he
turned to her.

"Fran was murdered."

"What!"

"Fran was murdered. Don't ask me how I know. I just know that her death wasn't
an accident."

Bel gazed at him with a total lack of comprehension as she tried to take it in.
She ran her hands through her hair. Damn, thought Adam, I could get used to
that.

Bel interrupted his thoughts, very rudely he thought.

"I don't understand why that makes you freer."

"I can't expect you to understand, but deep down what has always bugged me was
that Fran died needlessly, without reason. I'm sure now that her death is tied
up in this business and I intend to find out how she died, why she died and who
killed her. She will not have died pointlessly."

Silence descended as both tried to come to terms with what had been voiced. As
Bel took in the enormity of what Adam had said, the memories flooded back, tears
began to roll down her cheeks. Adam wondered whether to intervene but decided to
let her deal with the pent up grief. Sometimes his determination to do the right
thing seemed like a curse. He went to make some tea instead.

The teapot got his confusion right between the eyes. Why did it make a
difference? Shouldn't he feel guilty that a violent death makes him free?
Nothing in reality had changed, he didn't love her any less, she was still dead.
Was it that now he could pursue revenge? The thought produced a warm glow, not
that he would admit it. Had he just found a place to park her memory, and a
purpose to avenge it? Too deep Adam, too deep. Just make the tea. Finish the game
of solitaire. Go to bed.

Bel came into the kitchen behind him and interrupted his thoughts. Her eyes were
dry and there was a change to her demeanour. A grim determination dominated her
expression.

"I'm going to help you find whoever killed Fran and then I'm going to kick the
shit out of him. I need to do that much for Fran. I owe her."

Adam raised his teacup. "We both owe her, Trent."

Bel smiled. "Yes Lennox. We both owe her."

They returned to the lounge where Adam finished his tea and lost yet another
game of solitaire. He put the cards down.

"What do you remember of the days before her death? Was she uptight, upset,
tense, scared or what?" he asked.

"I can't recall much out of the ordinary," replied Bel. "You know, several weeks
before though, she had said that she thought she was being followed. She
couldn't put her finger on anything. We laughed and put it down to paranoia at
the time."

Adam frowned, "she didn't mention it to me."

"She didn't want you to laugh at her I don't think. Or perhaps even worry you."
She unfolded herself from the chair and got to her feet. "I'm going for a
shower."

Adam went through into the kitchen where the subdued work surface down-lighters
created a surprisingly intimate atmosphere. Why you would want an intimate
atmosphere for cooking was beyond Adam but he didn't let it give him sleepless
nights. He discovered Bel dressed in his Japanese silk dressing gown pouring a
drink for herself. With the intention of checking that the back door was secure
he went to move past her but as he drew level with her he spotted a red thread
caught in her hair. Without thinking he reached out a hand and running it
through her hair let the thread fall to the floor. As he did so he felt her
stiffen, and realising what he had done he took half a step backward, ready to
apologise. She turned to meet his gaze briefly and smiled.

"Don't stop," she murmured, and closing her eyes, lifted his hand and began
moving it once again through her hair. Her hand dropped away but he continued
stroking, gently at first and then, responding to the shivers of pleasure he
could feel passing through her body, he used two hands with increasing
intensity. After a few moments he cradled her head in his hands and pulled her
face towards him as their lips met. She pulled him to her and the silk dressing
gown was soon the only thing coming between them. Their embrace intensified
until the silk became superfluous and lifting the dressing gown off her
shoulders he let it fall to the floor. His hand dropped and cupped one of her
breasts and soon his clothes joined the silk on the floor. As her hands stroked
his face she murmured, "Adam, this is against all the rules. We shouldn't be
doing this."

But they did it anyway.

Lying on the bed comfortably relaxed he watched her naked body through the glass
shower screen of the en-suite. Only her head, shoulders and breasts were clearly
visible, the rest partially obscured behind patterned glass and water
droplets.

He considered their recent love-making. He wondered why memories of Fran hadn't
come to his mind as they had so often in the past. Self analysis for the
beginner, he'd never make intermediate.

As he watched he realised that Bel was more than just attractive, she was
stunningly beautiful. She caught him watching her and adopted a look of mock
disapproval.

"You're staring," she accused, "that's very rude."

His face adopted an innocent expression. "Not staring at all, admiring,
worshipping even," he defended himself.

She smiled and he could have sworn that the whole room lit up.

Chapter 20

Adam sat at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, when Bel strode into room. She
looked as if she had been tossing and turning all night, which indeed she had.
Looking up at her Adam smiled. "About last night.." he began.

She interrupted him. "Last night was an enormous mistake."

He went to remonstrate but she lifted a hand to silence him. "I don't want to
talk about it," she declared, and having poured herself a coffee strode out of
the room again, leaving Adam completely perplexed.

Fleet Street just wasn't the same any more. It used to buzz with newspapermen
out on the streets trying to pick up the gossip, pinch each others' headlines and
inside stories, and drink as much on their expense account as they could get
away with. Now it was all change. Phone, fax, email and the web were now the
means of picking up the tittle-tattle, or even generate your own news out of
nothing.

Now the entire day's issue could be put together without leaving your desk. As a
result the multitude of exotically named pubs had given way to the sandwich
bars, coffee houses and wine bars. The buildings had all had their faces lifted,
and the grime and news that seemed to be ingrained into the Daily offices had
been washed away for good.

The King's Head, the Writers' Arms, and The Wig and Gown had given way to the
Riviera Deli, The Richer Bean coffee shop and The Deeper Glass wine bar.

Gerry interrupted Adam's mental traveller's guide to London.

"Lingfield, 2.30, Barker's Lad's the favourite at 2's." He looked at Adam
expectantly.

Adam stopped and looked at his business partner with something conjured up to
look like pity but looked more like toothache.
"Gerry, do you know, if it
wasn't for me you might as well have your salary paid directly into William
Hill's bank account."

Gerry's face took on a hurt countenance. "I'm cut to the quick by your
insinuation." He paused briefly. "So what about it. Barker's Lad?"

"Who else is taking to the field with him?"

Gerry consulted with great concentration the well-creased paper in his hands.
"Devon King, Daisy's Sister and Highwayman, amongst some also rans."

"Barker's Lad will undoubtedly romp home."

Gerry was impressed at the lack of doubt. "Why?"

"Because Ronnie Barker was undoubtedly the greatest comic actor of our time. Now
put that paper away before you trip over your shoelaces."

Gerry sulked briefly. "You're wrong you know."

"I am very rarely wrong. Barker's Lad will definitely romp home." Adam at his
most supercilious.

Gerry shook his head. "No not that. David Jason is way ahead of Ronnie Barker.
No contest."

Street brawling is frowned upon by the general public, especially in broad
daylight, even on the streets of London. Adam used a different tactic.