False Diamond - An Abbot Agency Mystery

by Heley, Veronica

  Bea helped him. ‘You’re going to be put on some important government committee or other? Something to do with British industry, encouraging small companies to show what they can do? With grants to give out to deserving cases?’

  He reddened. ‘CJ told you?’

  ‘I guessed. I’m a clever clogs, you know. I also know that Benton is giving you a directorship in his company, in exchange for funds. How much is he asking for, and is it worth it?’

  ‘It’s not like that.’ Almost, he squirmed. ‘I need directorships in different companies to give me the background, the experience necessary to assist the government in its aim to search out and reward, to encourage those firms which are exhibiting the best of British …’

  She booted up her own computer and watched the emails pile in. One was from Leon, saying he’d booked a table for them at the Ivy. Was that all right?

  She emailed back: ‘I regret. I have other plans.’ And deleted his email.

  Forcing her mind back to Max, she tried to be soothing. ‘Of course I understand. You scratch my back, and I scratch yours. I suppose it’s all right, if the price is not too steep. Forgive me for checking my emails. There’s rather a lot going on.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted to see you about. Holland and Butcher are—’

  One of the office girls came in with a cup of coffee for Bea.

  ‘Thank you, dear,’ said Bea. ‘Are you sure you won’t have a cup, Max?’

  ‘Quite sure.’ He waited till the girl had left and took a seat, leaning forward, forearms on thighs, the picture of earnestness. ‘The thing is—’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You haven’t heard what—’

  ‘I can read the subtext. Benton has somehow or other persuaded you into thinking it would further your career if you had a directorship in his company. Personally, I wouldn’t think it would do you much good, but I’m not going to argue. I suppose you want the directorship to prove to your lords and masters that you’d be an asset on this government project of yours.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Only, I don’t think Benton’s been entirely honest with you. Holland and Butcher is not doing as well as it should.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Have you had a look at their books?’

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘I’ve heard that they’ve cut their dividends to the bone. I know that at least one of the other directors is unhappy about this, and I’ve heard that Benton hasn’t been handling their workforce as tactfully as he might.’

  He gaped.

  ‘Close your mouth, dear. You look like a goldfish.’

  Another email from Leon pinged on to the screen. ‘Simpsons in the Strand?’

  Almost, she smiled. Should she go? No, no. ‘Sorry. Busy.’ Delete.

  Max rubbed his forehead. He was getting quite worked up. ‘Now, Mother, you—’

  ‘Benton has talked you into remortgaging your flat and giving them the money, to get them out of a financial black hole?’

  ‘No, not exactly. The thing is, we’ve got both our names on the deeds of the flat here and our house in the constituency. Nicole’s parents insisted, and of course I didn’t think there’d be any trouble – her consenting, I mean. But she can’t see how releasing capital now would—’

  ‘She refused to remortgage.’ Bea’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Well, I must say, that’s an enormous relief. I could see you losing both your homes.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be losing anything.’ He was nothing if not obstinate.

  She drank her coffee. Aah. That was better. She would feel almost human again soon.

  He cracked his knuckles, an annoying habit he fell into when worried about something. ‘The thing is,’ he said, giving full weight to every word, ‘that Benton suggested, and I thought it an excellent idea since we’re all going to be working so closely together, that you take out a mortgage on this house and invest in the company. To seal our pact, as it were.’

  She snapped, ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  He persisted. ‘I thought you’d understand how much this means to me, and that you’d be happy to help me out.’

  She hadn’t got through to him. Nothing she’d said had caused him even a flicker of doubt. There was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He was being driven by ambition, or fear, or … what? She didn’t understand why he was so fixated. What hadn’t she been told? Was a piece of the jigsaw missing?

  A third email came in from Leon. She didn’t open it. She laid her hands in her lap and concentrated on her son. ‘Listen, Max. This house is worth a lot of money but it is not only my home, but also a home for my two lodgers: for Maggie, and for Oliver when he’s at home. It provides me and my staff with a living. Our agency is not large but it has an exclusive clientele and that is partly due to our position in this area. We employ a considerable number of people so that we can give personal service to each of our clients. I enjoy work and I intend to keep on working as long as I can.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I haven’t finished. These houses need regular maintenance, and I need to pay into a pension pot. I can only do that while I work. You want me to jeopardize all that by throwing it into a firm that’s rapidly going to the dogs?’

  ‘Of course not. As a director of H & B, you’ll get a good return on your investment.’

  ‘Not all the directors would agree with you.’

  ‘That’s because things have been allowed to slip. Benton needs you to work with him—’

  ‘Nonsense, Max. He wouldn’t want to work with me. He’d like to boss me about, yes. But not to work with. I don’t think he has a high opinion of women.’

  Max flinched. Ah, somewhere she’d touched a sore spot.

  She said, ‘He doesn’t consider that women are equal to men. He’s a bully, Max. Oh, not with men who’ll stand up to him, but with women in general and with his wife in particular.’

  He made an impatient gesture. ‘She’s out of it, or will be shortly. A great disappointment, that marriage. He thought he could make something of her, but—’

  ‘She was fresh out of school when he got her pregnant—’

  ‘She’s a real drag on him. No help to him at all, and a slut around the house. Not exactly bright, you know. He’s put up with her for years, but he’s decided to cut his losses and go for a divorce. He’ll get custody of the boys, of course.’

  Bea took one deep breath, let it out. ‘What he hasn’t told you is that he got her pregnant so that she’d marry him and to earn the approval of her father. She told me he got her to make over her shares in the business to him. He substituted a zircon for the diamond in her engagement ring to pay off an old flame … and now he’s going to tip her out on to the rubbish heap and go after someone else?’

  He flushed. ‘He’s outgrown her. What’s wrong with that?’

  What was wrong with that? Was this really Max talking? Her only son, who’d been brought up to respect marriage and … ah! This was the new Max, who’d fallen under the spell of a fast-talking New Man.

  She said, ‘What does Nicole think of this?’ Max’s skinny, whiny wife had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, had never needed to work and was never satisfied with anything. Her parents were well-to-do and proud of a son-in-law in the House of Commons. Bea had never liked the girl but had done her best to keep the marriage going, not least because Nicole had produced a satisfactory grandson.

  Max blustered, ‘What do you mean, “What does Nicole think of this?”’

  Bea closed her eyes momentarily. ‘Nicole has refused to back you in getting a second mortgage. She wants … Ah, I think I see what’s been happening. She wants you to climb the ladder. You’re a good member of parliament, painstaking and reliable. You look after your constituents’ interests admirably. But, you didn’t go to Oxford or Cambridge, you don’t move in the top echelons of society, you haven’t a Double First and you are not a television pundit. You are excellent backbencher material but you are not b
rilliant in debate.’

  He winced.

  Bea nodded. ‘Most women would be thrilled to call you their husband, but Nicole wants more. Is that it?’

  He clenched his hands between his thighs. ‘She has every right to expect—’

  ‘A good return on her money?’

  ‘She would like me to make a better showing—’

  ‘To climb the ladder faster? She wants you to get into this government initiative, but to do that you have to show you can pull in some directorships of various firms. Sensibly, she won’t jeopardize her home to help you. And neither will I.’

  Silence. Almost, he seemed to groan. ‘If necessary I can take out a big enough loan to cover what I need, provided you guarantee it.’

  She felt sick. ‘No.’

  ‘I’m desperate. If I can’t get this sorted, Nicole will leave me.’ He looked at her with the puppy-dog eyes of a small boy wanting to be told there really wasn’t a nasty red dragon under the bed.

  And she knew, just like that, from one breath to the other, exactly what had been going on.

  Benton had been cultivating Max for some time. Months.

  Benton had met Nicole.

  Nicole had been listening to Benton and comparing him to Max.

  Benton was planning to chuck his wife and go for a bigger prize.

  Nicole was planning to chuck Max and marry Benton because he was a showy, fast-talking braggart who might be expected, in due course and with her parents’ help, to succeed Max as their local member of parliament and climb the glittering ladder of fame.

  Bea could see it all, and she hadn’t a clue how to stop it. She stared at her computer screen and opened Leon’s last email. ‘Eel pie and mash in the East End?’

  It was a flattering offer. Not the eel pie – which she didn’t think she’d like much – but it was a consolation that Leon wanted her company enough to keep chasing her. She would think about that, later.

  Meanwhile, back to Max. She attempted to buy time. ‘Max, every instinct tells me to run as fast as I can away from Benton and his schemes, but I am aware that this is not a businesslike attitude. Perhaps, when I’ve looked into the matter further, I might be persuaded that the prospect of a good return on my money is not just a figment of your imagination. First, I need facts and figures. I need a business plan from Benton. I need him to suggest how we might work together. I need to consult my accountant and Maggie and Oliver.’

  A flare of hope. Was she really going to help him out? Followed by a frown. ‘You don’t need to consult anyone else about it, surely?’

  ‘Yes, Max. I do. My accountant can pick up anything I miss on the balance sheet. As for Maggie and Oliver, this is their home, and if I’m going to take out a loan on it, then they have the right to be consulted.’

  A dismissive gesture. ‘A student who’s away at university, and a girl who’s always been a misfit!’

  ‘Oliver has a brilliant brain, Maggie’s heart is as large as London, and I am very fond of them. Those are my terms; take it or leave it.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll take it, of course. I’m sure, once you get to know Benton, you’ll realize he’s going places; he’s just the man to drag the Abbot Agency into the present.’ He stopped, noting Bea’s icy stare. ‘Not that I mean you aren’t doing the best you can, under the circumstances.’ He tried on an uneasy laugh. ‘You’ve been wonderful, really splendid, taking over the agency and making it pay—’

  ‘Max, if you say, that I’ve done well “for a woman”—’

  ‘Oh, well.’ Another uneasy laugh. ‘Just joking. Everyone says you’re a marvel, got the place running on an even keel, everything hunky-dory and getting along tickety-boo as they say. After all, I know how much effort it takes to run this place, having been there and done that.’

  Yes, he’d taken the agency on for a short while but had not done well. Perhaps it would be unkind to remind him of that.

  ‘And then, eventually … Not that we want it to happen straight away, but it will all come to me in due course.’

  She started. Was he implying that after her death …?

  ‘I suppose –’ an artificial laugh, though he was not joking – ‘I could twist your arm and say I have every right to ask you to consider the future from my point of view.’

  ‘I’m not that decrepit.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Now he was the one to soothe. ‘You’re absolutely wonderful for your age. But we never know what’s round the next corner, do we? A car crash, a fall down the stairs … And where would we be then, eh? You have made a will, haven’t you?’

  She stared at him and through him. She’d made a new will immediately after her dear Hamilton had died during an extended holiday far from home. The travel agent had suggested it was a wise precaution to take before she made the long journey back to London by plane and, stunned as she’d been in her bereavement, she’d dutifully made a will in which she’d left everything to Max.

  Since then she’d taken in two youngsters who were as dear to her – if not more so – than Max, and had learned that even though her son had many sterling qualities, he was not the best of businessmen. If she were to die tomorrow, she could see Benton taking control of the agency through Max, and she could also see that he would turn Maggie and Oliver out. Of course he would. Max had never liked her having lodgers, and he’d love to live in this nice big house himself. Nicole would like it, too. They’d hinted as much in the past. More than hinted.

  Bea had forgotten all that. She’d buried it under layers of pretending that everything in the world was absolutely fine.

  Another thought struck her; it might be best to leave Max with the impression that she had not made a will since Hamilton died. She was horrified at herself, but a nasty little worm at the back of her head was jumping up and down and shrieking that it would be wise … even safer … to keep him in suspense.

  ‘A will?’ she said, frowning. ‘Yes, I really must. Otherwise there might be all sorts of complications; tax, and Hamilton’s relatives having to be taken into consideration—’

  ‘What?’ Had he gone pale? ‘You mean, someone might contest the will?’

  She shook her head at herself. ‘You’re right. I must get that sorted, soon as. I’m glad you reminded me. It’s the sort of thing which can so easily get overlooked. One doesn’t like to think one’s not immortal.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ He was thoughtful. ‘You need to get on to it, though. I’ll get my solicitor to ring you, make an appointment. I suppose you might want to leave a few thousand to your grandson, and a couple of hundred each to your lodgers, something like that?’

  Despising herself, she went into a Little Woman act. ‘I think I have to use Hamilton’s solicitors. He’ll have the original will, won’t he? And, if I’m right, he also holds the deeds of the house.’

  ‘Ah yes. You’ll need those if we take out a mortgage.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘Well, well. Glad that’s settled. A good morning’s work. I’ll get Benton to fax through some paperwork for you; I’m sure he can lay any qualms you might have to rest. He knows the business inside out, after all.’

  Bea nodded and saw him leave. He looked a lot less worried than he had. And she felt wretched.

  Back at her desk she opened Leon’s last email.

  ‘The Ritz for lunch?’

  She typed back: ‘I’m busy. Bring in some sandwiches for us both and I’ll take a break for half an hour. I’ll supply the coffee.’ She hesitated. Was this the right thing to do?

  Yes, because Leon did not seem to have been drawn into Benton’s plans but he might – just might – have some helpful information about how to thwart him. Well, he might.

  She pressed ‘send’ and picked up the telephone. Max was right. She ought not to have let the making of a new will slip out of her mind. She made an appointment for the morrow and turned back to her computer.

  FOUR

  Thursday at noon

  Acommotion in the big office. Bea could hear the girls la
ughing.

  Bea opened the door to find that Leon had arrived and was distributing sandwiches for everyone from a cool box which also contained bottles of fruit drinks. ‘Sparkling apple juice? Blackcurrant drink? I thought I’d better not bring alcohol in … or not on my first attempt at storming the citadel, anyway. Sorry, they wouldn’t let me have proper glasses. Hope you can manage with these plastic ones.’

  ‘What on earth!’ Bea found herself laughing.

  He spread his hands wide. ‘Why shouldn’t we treat ourselves now and then?’ He carried the cool box into her office. ‘Sandwiches. Smoked salmon and cream cheese, beef and horseradish, egg and cress. Hope there’s something you like. Apple or blackcurrant? Apple?’ He pulled up a chair and poured the bubbly liquid into a glass for her.

  She felt herself relax. Smile. ‘You’re after something.’

  ‘Pleasant company to while away an hour in an otherwise aimless life.’

  ‘Charm will get you nowhere.’

  ‘It usually does, you know.’ He actually had a dimple when he grinned.

  She grinned back. ‘Cheers. And thank you. It was a grim morning till you arrived.’

  ‘Thought it might be. I’ve been listening to my brother. He really believed that the archangel Gabriel in the form of Benton the Adventurer had been sent down from heaven to ensure that his latter years flowed with milk and honey … or steak and brandy, to be more accurate.’

  ‘Until he discovered his idol had feet of clay?’ Now why had she said that? As she dipped into the cool box, she noted he’d stopped eating for a moment. So she was right and something major had disturbed Mr Holland’s faith in his protégé. She said, ‘Yum. Are you sure you don’t have any shares in Holland and Butcher? No axe to grid at all?’

  ‘None. I was going to keep well out of it but, despite myself, I feel some concern for my niece.’

  ‘What do you think is going on there?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Only just arrived. I expected a routine family visit. You know? How are you, lovely weather we’re having, can I treat you to lunch sometime? I imagined I’d pay, pat the children on the head and leave. I could still do just that. I tell myself.’