by Edie Baylis
‘You’re stalking me there too?’ Helen slammed her glass down on the table. ‘For Christ’s sake, James! What’s the matter with you?’
Was it not bad enough that she’d spent the afternoon and half the evening rummaging around in that dust-ridden hole of a cellar? She’d found just about everything else in the entire world, apart from what she was looking for.
Those diamonds her mother had allegedly got could be anywhere. Absolutely anywhere. They would only be small and could be hidden in a vast amount of places. They could even have been separated and each one put somewhere different. Her pulse raced worryingly. She might never find them and she had to. Just had to.
James watched Helen silently raging to herself. He couldn’t go on like this and his nerves were already shot to pieces about what he’d seen her doing in the garage and the suspicions that had brought. He wanted what was really going on to be anything but what he suspected, but her behaviour... the things about the remortgaging of the house that she’d hidden from him...
‘You’re doing it again!’ Helen screeched, making James physically jump. ‘You’re staring at me like an idiot! What the hell’s wrong with you?’
James sighed. ‘Helen, we need to talk.’ He nodded towards a chair. Bypassing that she completely ignored him and remained standing, he sat down regardless and poured a glass of wine for himself. ‘I want to know what’s going on.’
Helen narrowed her eyes. ‘What do you mean what’s going on?’ How dare he ask that!
‘You’ve got a bloody cheek!’ she spat, her eyes burning. ‘Why don’t you tell me why you’ve been checking up on me?’
James blinked. ‘Checking up on you? I haven’t been ch...’
‘Why are you calling my office then? What do you expect to find? Trying to catch me out are you? What for exactly?’ Helen raged, her anger at fever pitch. ‘Furthermore, why have you been calling my brother? Do you really think he wants to speak to you? Why do you think he hasn’t called you back?’
James squirmed on the chair. The urge to have it out with Helen about the tablets and the remortgage strong. But that was a good point; why hadn’t Robert called him back? Could it be that he was in all of this with Helen?
No, he couldn’t be. James knew how much it irritated Helen how much Robert fought her over getting Dulcie into sheltered accommodation.
‘Well?’ Helen raged. ‘Are you going to answer or not?’
‘I-I can’t remember now,’ he mumbled. ‘I probably couldn’t get hold of you so I thought y...’
‘Thought I might be at Roberts, you mean?’ Helen cut in. ‘Jesus Christ, James. Does it ever cross your mind that I’d rather be anywhere but here?’
So he was stalking her to her brother’s now? Could she go nowhere without having him following her or trying to find out where she was? It was suffocating. Suffocating.
James got up from the table and looked at Helen sadly as he moved towards the door. ‘I’m beginning to realise that, yes. I’m beginning to realise a lot of things...’
‘Where are you going now?’ Helen screamed.
‘Giving you what you want. Some space.’ James walked out of the dining kitchen and stood aimlessly in the hall, not knowing what to do. Whatever happened, he had to do something.
James let himself into the garage through the adjoining door and dialled Robert’s number again. He had to reach him somehow.
Thirty Six
JONAH WAS LESS THAN IMPRESSED. Bloody Keith Grogan and his ham-fisted ways. And much to his irritation, all that business had made the top headline of Maidenhead’s news, which he could do without. He didn’t want it spreading further afield, or going national:
Coma Man Dies
The victim of the violent and brutal assault on 15th June, died yesterday in hospital, despite initial hope that he may recover.
Alan Hardwick, 28, never regained consciousness after the horrific head injuries he’d suffered during the attack. Extensive tests showed there was no hope of any recovery, and the unfortunate decision to withdraw life support was taken.
Police are still appealing for anyone who noticed anything suspicious in the Weir Road area on the night of the attack to come forward as a matter of urgency.
Lena watched Jonah staring at his mobile phone as she delicately nibbled at the selection of fruit in her breakfast bowl. ‘Anything interesting?’
Locking his phone, Jonah placed it face down on the table. ‘Just some bloke who snuffed it after an attack.’
‘It wasn’t anyone we knew was it?’
Jonah shook his head and slurped at his coffee. ‘No, no one from around here. It was over in Maidenhead.’
Lena frowned. ‘Why are you looking at Maidenhead’s news? That’s nowhere near here.’
Jonah shrugged dismissively. ‘It just came up on my newsfeed,’ he lied, wishing Lena would stop asking questions, but after their row the other night, she was making a concerted effort, so therefore he’d do the same. Focusing on Dulcie Adams was the priority and he didn’t need any distractions.
He eyed Lena picking at a grape. She should eat properly for the kid’s sake.
Jonah frowned. He’d also had a missed call from Saul, which he’d half-expected, having not gone to visit him yesterday. Saul would be spitting chips about that and equally angry that he’d probably queued up for some time to use the phone, only for it to go straight to voicemail.
But it was tough luck. He couldn’t have distractions and Saul would distract him. His brother ranting about what needed to be done – the polar opposite of what he believed needing doing to properly resolve this, was not going to help.
Pushing his chair back, Jonah stood up and grabbed his suit jacket. Saul would just have to wait. ‘I’ll be off then.’
Lena put her spoon down. ‘Shall I come with you? I could do with a change of scenery.’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve got a lot on today and you don’t want to get in the way.’ Turning on his heels, he left the kitchen before Lena noticed how clenched his jaw was.
Lena watched the door close and slammed her fist down on the table. In the way, was she?
NERO PLACED THE KEYS on Jonah’s desk and grinned. ‘There you go!’
Jonah picked up the small key fob, eyeing the two keys hanging from it. ‘Any issues?’
Nero shook his head. ‘No. The stoner called me on a burner and told me he’d got them. Shame about him, he seems to have developed a speech impediment.’
Jonah laughed. ‘That’s because you scare everyone to death.’ His smile fell. ‘Talking of which, did you hear that the one in the hospital karked it?’
Nero shrugged. ‘I hadn’t, but Keith said when he followed Joe and that other dopey guy the other day, they’d come from the hospital and looked fucked up, so it doesn’t surprise me.’
‘Nothing on the estate agent?’
‘Nope. They won’t find anything either. Not unless they’ve got a thousand years to forensically analyse all the metal blocks that were once cars at Tiny’s place.’
Jonah nodded, pleased. That was something then.
‘The stoner bloke – our friend Joe... He reckons the Adams woman is being shifted out into a nuthouse in a week or so – at least that’s what the stoner thinks.’ Nero raised his eyebrows and chuckled to himself.
Jonah scowled. ‘How does he know that? The girl, I presume? Has he told her about you?’
Nero shook his head. ‘Nah. Even he wouldn’t be that stupid. He’s shitting himself enough as it is. He wouldn’t have said anything. She won’t know anything.’
‘How do you want us to tackle this now we have the keys? Hang fire until the old bat’s gone? We’ll have free rein of the house then?’
Jonah frowned. He’d thought about this. Thought about it long and hard. ‘I won’t be waiting until the old girl has been carted off because I want her there. I want to talk to her.’
Nero very nearly dropped his coffee down his trousers. ‘Talk to her? You want to talk to her
?’
‘I’ll drag her in for questioning,’ Keith beamed. ‘Take her for a ride in the car to the warehouse? You can meet us there?’
‘I don’t know how much use she’ll be if she’s barking, but I guess one of us can turn the house over whilst you’re with her,’ Nero added.
Jonah placed his pen on the desk. ‘And the girl?’
‘The girl?’ Keith frowned. ‘Oh, the hired help? I’ll offload her, don’t you worry about that.’
‘No,’ Jonah said quickly. Although his instinct was to send them in to turn the house over, find the stash and then dump the old girl face down in the nearest canal for her part in the deception, he didn’t kill women, no matter how tempting it was. Women were out of bounds – they always had been and he wouldn’t disgrace his father by changing the code of conduct.
‘That won’t be happening. I’ll go to the house myself. I want to look Dulcie Adams in the eye and tell the only remaining link to the fuckwit who turned my father over what she was part of.’
Nero and Keith exchanged glances. Jonah was never hands on anymore. He’d taken a back seat with that side of things the minute he’d become the gaffer. It was the way it had always worked. That probably wouldn’t have applied to Saul, but then very little applied to Saul.
‘I know what you’re thinking, but this is different. This stuff has haunted this firm and my family for decades and I want to be the one to deal with the only person left party to it.’ Jonah nodded almost to himself. ‘I want to be the one she hands the stash to.’
He glanced at the framed picture on his desk of his late father. He wanted to be the one his father’s rightful possessions were handed back to. He wanted to hear the apology coming directly from the horse’s mouth. To him, not via anybody else.
Nero inhaled deeply. ‘Ok, if that’s how you want to do it.’
‘It’s the only way I’ll do it,’ Jonah barked. ‘It’s the only acceptable way under the circumstances.’
Keith stood up. ‘This is nuts! We could just go straight in an...’
‘Don’t fucking tell me what is ludicrous or not!’ Jonah roared, slamming his fist onto his desk. ‘What I say, goes! Do NOT question my judgement.’
Keith raised both hands in resentful submission. ‘Ok, ok! But shall we all go now? No point hanging around. I presume you’ll want u...’
‘I’m not doing it now,’ Jonah snapped. I want you to tell me an evening when the maid, or whoever she is, will be out. When Dulcie Adams is on her own, that’s when I’ll be talking to her.’ He glanced back at his father’s photo again. ‘Arrange it so your stoner man gets the girl out one evening this week.’
Opening one of the drawers of his desk, he pulled out a wad of notes, shoved them into an envelope and glaring coldly, handed it to Keith. ‘And give him this. Only right that we should contribute to the funeral costs under the circumstances, don’t you think?’
‘DID I HEAR HELEN HERE YESTERDAY, DEAR?’ Dulcie asked, pottering around the sitting room.
‘Yes, she just popped over. She didn’t stay long.’ Teagan fidgeted awkwardly with her fingers. She couldn’t say why Helen had been here. Dulcie was in a good mood today, her behaviour completely normal and she didn’t want anything to set her off. Discovering Helen was preparing for her move would do just that.
Sadness engulfed Teagan once more. It was so disheartening and she wished she could do something to make this better – all of it.
‘Have you heard from that young man again yet?’ Dulcie said, her eyebrows raised inquisitively.
Teagan faltered. Dulcie had asked her this earlier, but she’d skirted round the subject. Dulcie’s behaviour over Darren the other day had been odd to say the least. Nothing else had happened with him though, which wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it was still disappointing all the same. She’d texted him a few times, apologising for the other night. He’d been fine, saying it wasn’t a problem and not to worry about it, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about going on another date. And that said it all.
‘Come on, tell me,’ Dulcie pushed.
Teagan shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t heard anything and I don’t think I will either.’
Dulcie laughed, her eyes alive. ‘Oh, I’m pretty sure you will.’ She patted the seat next to her. ‘Come and sit here, there’s something I need to talk to you about.’
Teagan tentatively moved across the room and perched on the edge of the sofa.
‘Do you remember yesterday when I asked you about Darren?’ Dulcie asked, her eyes bright.
‘Erm, yes. You asked me about his father an...’
‘Don’t worry about that for a moment.’ Dulcie flapped her hand. ‘Do you remember me mentioning about the man I wanted to be with? The man who bought me that brooch and this house?’
‘This house?’ Teagan cried. ‘I didn’t realise he’d bought you this house.’
Dulcie laughed again. ‘I know you’ve started to believe I’m crazy too and I can’t say I blame you, but I really do want to tell you something.’ Dulcie got up from the sofa and moved to a little table. ‘When we had that conversation, I was looking for something.’ She pulled open a tiny inset drawer. ‘And now I’ve found it...’ Her gaze wandered to the French windows. ‘He promised me he’d come back... I waited you know...’
Teagan remained silent. She just had to let Dulcie talk, she knew that.
‘His name was Michael. He said he wouldn’t be long and then we could be together properly...’
Teagan frowned, hoping Dulcie wasn’t going off on a really mad one again.
Dulcie swung around. ‘I never got to be with him though. Not properly, like we’d planned, but I wanted to so badly.’ She smiled slightly before flopping back down in her chair. ‘He wanted to wait a bit longer before we made our relationship official, but we never got that chance.’
‘He was married, you know?’ Dulcie continued. ‘Had a young child too, but Michael was divorcing his wife and then we were going to marry. Everyone knew we were together. It was hardly a secret - even his bloody wife knew about me. Oh and I know they all say things like ‘I’ll leave my wife’ and never do, but Michael... Michael was different...’
Dulcie waved her arm around the room. ‘He bought me this place. He was supposed to be coming back..’
Teagan saw tears brimming in Dulcie’s eyes. ‘But he never did?’
Angrily blinking away the forming tears, Dulcie continued, ‘My instincts always told me that he must have died, but I never did find out for definite. I suppose I didn’t want to know because then it would have been over.’ She took a large gulp of her gin. ‘I never loved anyone again. There was never another man in my life after him...’
Clearing her throat, she carefully unfolded the tissue-thin newspaper cutting she had retrieved from the tiny drawer in the table. ‘I knew I had it somewhere.’ She smiled at it longingly before handing it to Teagan. ‘This is my Michael.’
Teagan took the aged paper carefully. An article about The Feathers with a photo of seven men sitting around a circular table.
‘Michael’s the one on the left,’ Dulcie said proudly.
Teagan squinted at a very striking-looking powerfully built man. ‘What did he do?’
Dulcie laughed. ‘Oh you don’t need to know about that.’
Teagan concentrated further. ‘He reminds me of someone... I can’t quite put my finger on it.’ Wait a minute! She studied the man’s features once again. She had seen him before. ‘Oh my God!’ She looked at Dulcie, startled.
Dulcie smiled knowingly. ‘Yes, Robert looks very much like his father, doesn’t he?’
Teagan sat open-mouthed. Dulcie wasn’t making this up at all - at least not this part. There could be no doubt the man in the newspaper clipping had fathered Robert – the resemblance was uncanny. ‘Does... does...?’
‘I know what you’re going to ask... No, Robert doesn’t know. Neither does Helen. You’re the only person I’ve ever told. What would be the point of ev
er telling them? As a child, Robert would have been ostracised for being a bastard and Helen, well, she was too young to remember Michael on the few occasions she got a glimpse of him anyway.’ Dulcie looked thoughtful. ‘Had Michael returned I would have told them, but... but... he never came back, so I just never mentioned it. It seemed easier somehow...’
Dulcie turned to face Teagan. ‘The thing is, I’m not sure you can see the resemblance with that young man of yours, but I can. To me it’s very clear.’
Teagan was still busy trying to get her head around the last bombshell. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I think,’ Dulcie looked back down at the newspaper cutting, ‘that your Darren is something to do with my Michael. I think his father must be Michael’s first son.’
IN THE SHOWROOM, Mike watched a well-dressed woman eyeing up one of the BMW’s like a hawk. She looked pretty interested. He’d always adopted the tactic of ‘no pressure’ selling, rather than jumping on prospective customers the second their toe crossed the threshold of his showroom, feeling that etiquette fared better than the aggressive approach, but the minute she glanced in their direction he’d be on her like a shot. Or he’d send Heath – no matter which. There was a decent mark-up on that motor and God only knew they could do with it.
He glanced at Heath standing in the small office to the left of him, still on the phone. He’d better have some decent news from that call.
Keeping an eye on the woman by the BMW, Mike watched Heath end the call and make his way through. ‘Well?’
Heath shrugged. ‘Nothing as yet, but she said she’ll be continuing tonight.’
Mike sighed impatiently. ‘And that’s it? That’s all she said?’ He looked up at the ceiling. ‘Jeez, this just isn’t going to happen is it?’
Heath grinned. ‘Patience, father. Patience.’
‘I haven’t got any fucking patience left! It ran out the same time my bastard overdraft did!’ Mike folded his arms. ‘Are you sure she’s not just stringing us along?’