False Diamond - An Abbot Agency Mystery

by Heley, Veronica

  He thrust his face at her, crowding her back in her chair towards the wall. ‘Max says you transfer pictures from your phone to your computer. This it?’ He hauled the laptop back on to her desk. ‘Show me where you keep your pictures, woman! Now!’

  ‘I’ll do nothing of the kind. What on earth makes you think you can act like—’

  ‘This does!’ He thrust his fist into her jaw, once, twice. Lightly, but making sure she rocked in her chair each time.

  Max shot out of his seat, twisting his hands together. ‘No, Benton. You can’t. You mustn’t. Look, if it’s so important, I’ll find them for you …’ In a fever, he pounced on Bea’s laptop and set to work on it. ‘Yes, here’s her photo gallery … but …’ He looked up at Benton. ‘There’s nothing recent.’

  ‘What! Show me!’ Benton swung the laptop round, to check. And straightened up. Slowly. ‘She’s put them somewhere else. Bitch! What have you done with them? Answer me!’

  Bea stood up, slowly, trying not to shake. ‘I told you to leave.’

  ‘I said, “Answer me!”’ He picked up the laptop and smashed it down on the corner of her desk.

  Bernice yelped in her sleep and curled herself into an even smaller ball.

  Bea said, ‘I wish now that I had transferred all my recent pictures from my phone to the laptop. Pictures of my grandson and our last big party …’ She allowed her eyes to fill with tears. ‘I thought there was plenty of time and now … I’m sending you a bill for my phone and laptop, and I shall expect a cheque by return.’

  He seized her wrist and drew her close. ‘If I thought you were lying, I would …’

  ‘Steady on!’ Max was alarmed but not going to interfere.

  Bea said, ‘How dare you!’

  He laughed in her face, released her with such violence that she fell back into her chair. He walked around the room, looked out on to the patio garden, adjusted his tie. Considered what he’d learned, decided he was not finished yet. He yanked the chair by the desk out and seated himself. ‘Now let’s get one or two things straight. You have no option but to play ball with me. Ask Max. He’ll tell you. Holland and Butcher are going to take over your agency. Max is about to made a director, and so are you. You will take over my duties at the firm, and your office staff will run both companies. You and I are going to work so closely together in future that we will speak with one voice. All dealings with the press will be handled by me, or by Max. You will back Max’s application for a loan, offering this house as collateral. Do you understand?’

  ‘You must be mad!’

  He grinned, revealing white, too white teeth. ‘You’ve run out of time. Max has been too clever for you. He’s let me have your client list and the contact details of several disgruntled employees and employers who will be only too glad to tell their stories to the press – unless you cooperate.’

  ‘What?’

  He ticked them off on his fingers. ‘Two men allege sexual discrimination. I imagine they are gay, but that makes an even better story, doesn’t it? Then there’s the woman who says you refused to pay her for work done, and another who claims you supplied a cook who stole from her … Just imagine what that will do to your saintly image!’

  ‘What?’ she said again. She laughed in his face. ‘Oh, really! Benton, those cases go back fifteen years, maybe more. And they concerned unreliable characters whom you could never produce in court.’

  ‘If we circulate their details to your client list—’

  ‘I’d sue the pants off you. Publish and be damned.’

  He straightened up. Smiling. ‘I’ll leave Max to show you the error of your ways. But, before I go, I’m going to give you something to remember me by.’

  He’s going to hit me!

  I could duck, but …

  Max will surely not stand for—

  He hit her, hard. First on one side of her jaw … she rocked back in her chair … and then the other.

  He wiped his hands off, one against the other. ‘Now we know where we stand, don’t we? Max, you’ve let your mother go her own way too long. You need to teach her some of the basic facts of life.’

  The door swung to behind him.

  SEVEN

  Bea put her hands to her face. Tenderly. Her cheeks were swelling.

  Blood. A trickle down her cheek.

  He’d been wearing a signet ring, had cut her.

  Max hovered: panic, alarm and guilt fought for precedence. ‘Mother, you should have listened to … Let me …’

  He offered her a tissue from the box on the table. She struck his hand aside.

  No one has ever hit me before.

  Max said, ‘Shall I get you some water?’

  In a moment anger will replace Max’s concern.

  The child on the settee made a mewing noise. Bernice was awake. Had she witnessed the attack her father had made on Bea? He’d walked out and left her like a piece of unwanted luggage. Though perhaps it was just as well that he hadn’t taken her with him, considering the treatment the child had received at his hand.

  Bea hauled herself to her feet and made it to the settee. ‘All right, little one? A bad dream, was it?’

  The child looked terrified. She whispered something.

  Bea bent closer.

  ‘I’ve wet myself. Don’t hit me!’ She ducked her head under her arms.

  Of course she’d wet herself, poor scrap.

  Just as she’d anticipated, Max was moving into angry mode. ‘Mother, we’ve got to talk, to straighten this out …’

  Bea pulled the child into her arms. ‘It’s all right, my love. Maggie brought your suitcase with her, and we’ve got a change of clothes for you. And then—’

  ‘Mother!’

  ‘Get lost, Max.’ She lifted the child up off the settee. Her cheeks were stiffening up. Blood was running down her neck.

  His voice rose to a shout. ‘You’re not listening! I was only showing Benton how much I could help when he takes over the agency. It never occurred to me in a million years that he would raise a hand to you. He’s out of his mind with worry, you see, and—’

  ‘Max, this child needs first aid, and so do I. I would like you to leave before I say something I might regret.’ She took a step towards the door, realized she wasn’t going to make it while carrying the child, and fell back on to the settee. ‘Bernice, do you think you could manage to walk by yourself? We’ve got a nice toilet here, and we can clean one another up. How does that sound?’

  The child slid on to the floor. One hand still grasped the teddy bear. It looked new. Maybe Maggie had bought it for her? Bernice held out her hand to Bea, who took it.

  Carrie appeared in the doorway. ‘Is everything all right? Oh!’ Seeing the devastation.

  ‘Carrie, will you see Max out?’

  ‘Mrs Abbot, your face!’

  ‘It will heal. Come along, Bernice. Clean-up time. Did Maggie tell you that you’re going to stay with your Auntie Sybil? She looks ancient but she really cares about you and your mummy.’

  A bad idea to mention the child’s mother.

  ‘Mummy?’ Again that look of dreadful anxiety.

  ‘She’s being properly looked after. I’m sure you can see her soon.’ Crossing fingers and toes.

  Max said, ‘Mother, you’re making a terrible mistake. I can’t let you—’

  ‘You have a choice to make, Max … between me and everything I represent, and Benton and what he represents. Until you’ve decided, I don’t want to see you. Please leave your keys on my desk and go.’

  She was in shock. Time expanded so that she saw Max leaving her in slow motion … and then it shot forward as she helped Bernice to her feet and rushed her towards the toilet, passing Carrie who was looking distressed and saying something Bea didn’t catch.

  The girl stripped off her wet clothes. Oh, the bruises on her thin arms and legs!

  A rush of anger. Bea was shaking. She held on to the washbasin. Was she going to be sick?

  Control yourself, Bea. She
looked into the mirror and saw that there was a drying trickle of blood down her cheek and on to her neck. She hurt in various places. Were her own arms bruised where Benton had grasped them? She fought for control.

  She put her head out of the door. ‘Carrie?’

  ‘I’m here. Do you need a stitch in your face?’

  ‘A picture or two.’

  Carrie kept her head. She produced Bea’s smartphone, the one she’d hidden when expecting Benton, the one which had recorded what had happened to Dilys. Snap, snap. The damage to Bea’s face was added to the rest of the evidence against Benton.

  Bea knelt beside the child. ‘I’m afraid your daddy’s been hurting you, too. Will you let me take a photo of your bruises now?’

  Bernice nodded.

  Carrie muttered threats against Benton, more or less under her breath, as she took more photos.

  Bea said, ‘Don’t worry, Carrie. He’s not going to get away with it.’ Brave words.

  Bernice wept throughout, trying to stifle her tears, trying not to make a sound which might bring further punishment down upon her. Hanging on to her teddy bear.

  Bea helped the child into clean, warm clothes. Not very nice clothes. T-shirt and jeans. Possibly her brother’s hand-me-downs? They were all marginally too small for her.

  Carrie took charge. ‘Now you go and sit down in your office and let me attend to you, Mrs Abbot.’ Bea went. Bernice climbed on to her lap and hid her face in Bea’s shoulder as Carrie attended to their various cuts and bruises.

  Two shadows entered the room. Bea’s pulse went into overdrive.

  Ah, not Benton. Thank God.

  Her pulse slowed.

  Leon, horrified. ‘Bea, your face!’

  Bea tried to laugh, pressing her hand to her wounded cheek. ‘Well, Leon. You’ve just missed all the fun and games. And Sybil? Nice to see you again. Bernice, this is your Great Aunt Sybil.’

  Bernice, terrified, clinging to Bea, wouldn’t even look up.

  Sybil held out her arms. ‘Let me see you, child.’

  Slowly, Bernice turned her head. One eye enquired who this stranger might be. Bea gently urged Bernice to turn round. ‘It’s all right, love. It’s your great aunt.’

  To her credit, Sybil didn’t try to force the pace. ‘Why, Bernice! You’re the spitting image of what I was like as a child.’

  Bernice was, almost, interested. Still clinging to Bea, she turned her head fully to inspect Sybil. Eye met eye. Exactly the same shape and colour of eyes. Interesting. Would Bernice develop into someone like Sybil if she had the good fortune to escape from her father’s orbit?

  ‘Auntie Sybil?’ A mere whisper. Bernice was still hanging on to her little teddy bear, reluctant to leave the safety of Bea’s lap.

  ‘What a little poppet you are,’ said Sybil. ‘You’re coming to stay with me and your great-uncle for a bit, till things calm down. But I can’t take you home looking like Orphan Annie. Haven’t you anything better to wear?’

  Bea indicated the child’s open suitcase. ‘That’s all she’s got. You might like to inspect her bruises as well. Upper arms and legs. He was careful not to hit her where it might show.’

  ‘What!’ Sybil looked at Leon. ‘I thought Benton was supposed to be fond of his children.’

  Bea was grim. ‘Of his boys, yes. But he says women have to be taught their place.’

  She imagined Benton trying it on with Sybil. Now that would be interesting to watch.

  Sybil blinked. She looked lost for a second or two, then made up her mind which way to jump. ‘I’ve never had chick nor child. I never wanted them when I could have had them, but it looks as though I’ve been given a second chance. I suppose I might enjoy buying Bernice some new clothes.’

  The child whispered, ‘Mummy?’

  ‘Your mummy’s quite safe for the moment. We’ll be able to visit her soon. Come.’ Sybil tried to take child off Bea. For a moment, Bernice resisted, not sure who to trust.

  Bea kissed Bernice and helped her to stand on her own two feet. ‘It’s all right, love. You’ll be safe with your great aunt, and staying with her will be a great adventure. Here, take one of my cards. Give me a ring in the morning to let me know how you’re getting on. Hold on a mo. I’ll put Maggie’s mobile number on as well. Oh, but I suppose … Have you got a mobile phone?’

  The child shook her head.

  Sybil said, ‘Give me your card, Mrs Abbot. I’ll make sure the child rings you in the morning.’

  ‘And Maggie?’ said Bernice.

  ‘If you must.’ Sybil led the child off, still clutching her teddy.

  Bea tried to stand. Didn’t make it.

  Leon said, ‘Put your feet up. Is someone getting you a cup of tea?’

  Carrie said it was all organized and set about clearing up the mess, with many a tut-tut. One of the juniors brought Bea a cup of tea, strong, laced with sugar. She sipped. Her lip hurt. Her face hurt. Her arms hurt. She was in shock and not enjoying it.

  ‘What happened?’ said Leon. ‘Surely Benton wasn’t stupid enough to attack you? Couldn’t you have stopped him?’

  Bea closed her eyes. ‘Benton was playing with a marked deck of cards. He thought he held the joker because he’s got Max so twisted he doesn’t know which way is up. Benton didn’t realize I was playing with a marked deck, too.’

  Carrie grinned. ‘We arranged everything before he arrived. I took Mrs Abbot’s smartphone and kept it in my drawer, and put an old mobile in its place in her handbag. Just in case. And he went for it. Then he thought she might have transferred her pictures to her computer and—’

  ‘The pictures you took last night? Are they so damning?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bea. ‘They show the “suicide” was staged. Dilys doesn’t own a bright-red lipstick, and my pictures prove it.’

  Carrie produced a bowl of ice cubes and a clean tea towel. She put some cubes into the tea towel and handed it to Bea to put on her face.

  ‘But …’ Leon was bewildered. ‘Whose lipstick was it?’

  Bea gave him an old-fashioned look.

  ‘Ah. You think his sister helped him to stage the “accident”? She has turned up at an opportune moment, hasn’t she? Which means … I rather think I’m out of my depth here.’

  ‘Ditto,’ said Bea, holding the compress to her face. ‘Ouch. Carrie and I rather thought he might try to get rid of any evidence I collected so not only did we swap the mobile phones but, just to be on the safe side, we also swapped my computer for a laptop we no longer use.’

  ‘So the pictures are safe?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Carrie. She shot an enquiring glance at Bea, who closed her eyes. Bea didn’t think there was any necessity to tell Leon about all the precautions she’d taken that afternoon. She trusted him to a certain extent, but not enough to tell him everything. She didn’t tell him, for instance, that not only had she given a set to the police, but she had also printed off a second set which had been posted off to her solicitor’s that afternoon.

  Carrie asked Leon to help her restore Bea’s computer to its original position. He did so, casting concerned glances at Bea every now and then.

  The junior came in with some aspirin. Nice girl. Practical. Bea couldn’t remember her name for the moment, which was odd because she really did know it. ‘Thank you.’

  She began to shiver.

  Reaction, of course.

  Leon said, ‘You need to rest.’

  ‘I’ve an appointment I must keep at my solicitors.’

  ‘Taking out an injunction against Benton?’

  ‘That would be too good for him,’ said Bea.

  ‘And then have supper with me?’

  Bea shook her head. ‘Despite my brave words, I feel rather shaken. I think I’d better rest – and have a good think.’

  Anger was good. It kept me going. Now I’ve stopped being angry and know fear. Benton knows all about fear, doesn’t he? Once a woman’s been hit and not reciprocated, when he approaches her again she remembe
rs the pain and cringes. He only has to lift his hand, and she’ll wilt.

  As I am cringing at the thought of being hit again.

  I am ashamed of my fear.

  If I’d hit back, if I’d somehow managed to prevent his attack, I’d feel better now … or would I? He was so strong!

  He thinks he’s broken me, and maybe he’s right.

  He hasn’t broken me through Max – though the damage he’s done there is bad enough and I shall have to deal with that at some point – but through pain.

  Only, I can’t … No, I won’t do as he asks.

  Dear Lord above, help!

  She closed her eyes for a moment, wanting to blank out the past hour.

  Leon touched her hand. Concerned for her. ‘Are you all right, Bea?’

  She opened her eyes. ‘Did I doze off?’

  Benton may think he’s boxed me into a corner, but there’s a couple of escape routes he doesn’t know about.

  She got to her feet with an effort. ‘Could you bear to drive me to my solicitor’s? It’s not far. I can get a cab back.’

  ‘I’ll get you a taxi. I didn’t bring my car into London.’

  ‘No, of course you didn’t. It’s terrible for parking. Carrie, can you lock up and see to everything?’

  ‘Of course. Please, Mrs Abbot, look after yourself for a change.’

  ‘And that special package did go off?’

  ‘Of course it did. There,’ said Carrie, looking around at the straightened office, ‘all shipshape again. And I’ll prepare an invoice for the damage Mr Benton has done.’

  Two hours later

  As Bea drew up in the taxi, she noticed that there were lights on in her living room though nobody had drawn the curtains. Downstairs, the agency rooms were dark, closed for the night.

  Perhaps Maggie was back and preparing something nice for supper? No. Maggie liked to work in the kitchen and rarely bothered to put the lights on in the living room. And if she did, she would have drawn the curtains. Not Maggie, then.

  Bea pulled herself up the steps to the front door. Let herself in. The alarm had been turned off. Through a half-open door she could hear voices in the living room. Music poured out of the kitchen. Maggie might be in the kitchen, yes. So who was in the living room? Ah. Two overcoats had been thrown across the chest in the hall. One was Max’s navy blue, and the other was a cream-coloured cashmere and wool affair that could only be Leon’s.