Shifting Sands

by Anthea Fraser

  ‘If that’s why she was killed. For all we know, it could have been a lovers’ tiff.’

  ‘You’re surely not saying this is all one big coincidence?’

  ‘God, Jon, I don’t know what I’m saying. I’ve not been mixed up in murder before, and I can’t say I like it.’

  ‘Ought we to contact the police, do you think?’

  ‘And tell them what? That you found her? That’s all the info you can give them, apart from the fact that you left the scene as fast as your legs could carry you, having probably removed the killer’s fingerprints as well as your own.’

  Jonathan groaned. ‘I never thought of that.’

  They sat in gloomy silence for several minutes. Then Jonathan said urgently, ‘There must be something we can do. We owe her that much. Let’s go over again what we know – or at least what she told us.’

  ‘Which boils down to very little. To wit – one: the resort was trying out a new beauty treatment, after, presumably, it had passed the required tests. Two: it was aimed at older women with plenty of money. Three: several dozen underwent the treatment, and of those possibly four or five died shortly afterwards. Four: when she mentioned her suspicions to her boss, she was given short shrift and told to keep her mouth shut. Five: she somehow obtained copies of these women’s notes and copied them on to a memory stick. Which is now missing. And that’s the sum total.’

  ‘So,’ Jonathan said, ‘without the memory stick, the only evidence is at the resorts themselves. We’ll have to infiltrate somehow and root around ourselves.’

  ‘Infiltrate? Are you mad? It might have escaped your notice, but neither of us is a woman of a certain age. If we start asking about beauty treatments, it’ll certainly start tongues wagging!’

  ‘There might be another way,’ Jonathan said slowly.

  ‘I’d be interested to know how.’

  ‘OK, a guy wouldn’t stand much chance of snooping, but a woman might, even if she wasn’t of a certain age.’

  Steve frowned. ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘I was wondering if perhaps Maddy—’

  ‘No way!’ Steve interrupted. ‘You can stop right there. I’m not sending Maddy into the lion’s den on a wild goose chase.’

  ‘Lions and geese! An interesting combination.’

  ‘Seriously, Jon—’

  ‘Look,’ Jonathan interrupted in his turn, ‘I’m just thinking aloud – bear with me. Suppose Maddy goes for one of these pampering weekends, either to Woodcot, was it, or the one where Elise worked. Obviously, she wouldn’t be eligible for the treatment, but she could cosy up to some elderly women and see what transpires.’

  ‘And suppose she arouses suspicion?’

  ‘Why should she? There’s absolutely nothing to connect her to Elise, and I bet they gossip all the time about the treatments they’re having. She could say she’s read about some fantastic product – even that some elderly relative had it – and has whoever she’s talking to tried it?’

  ‘No,’ Steve said again, but less dogmatically.

  ‘Suppose we let Maddy decide? She might welcome a weekend at a luxury place like that – facials and massages and all the rest of it.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t doubt she would, and if she knew there was some mystery attached, she’d be even keener. I’m the one who wouldn’t be happy.’

  There was a brief silence, then Jonathan said, ‘Well, of course it’s up to you, but God knows what else we can do.’

  ‘It might still come tomorrow.’

  ‘No, I think we have to accept that something prevented her posting it, or it would have been there by now.’ He looked at his watch. ‘In which case, it’s time we stopped faffing around and got down to work on the Perceval piece.’

  ‘Yep,’ Steve said absent-mindedly.

  Jonathan waited, sensing a change of heart.

  ‘I suppose there’s no harm in at least filling Maddy in,’ Steve offered tentatively.

  ‘None at all. And, of course, I’ll have to tell Vicky; I was too shattered to go into details yesterday.’

  ‘You’ll stay up here for the rest of the day, though?’

  ‘Yep, but to coin a phrase, thank God it’s Friday. It’s been quite a week.’

  ‘I might see if Maddy can join us for lunch, so we can explain the position. It’d be better if you were there as well.’

  ‘Excellent idea,’ said Jonathan.

  As expected, Maddy was only too ready to fall in with the suggestion.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go to one of those places,’ she said enthusiastically, ‘but I could never afford it.’

  The men exchanged glances. ‘It would be on expenses, of course,’ Jonathan said smoothly. ‘After all, it’s part of the research on what could well be a scoop.’

  ‘Then I’d be even more delighted! And what, exactly, do I have to do while I’m there?’

  ‘You might change your mind when you hear,’ Steve warned.

  ‘I doubt it! Try me.’

  But her pleasure faded as they told her about Elise, her suspicions, and her violent death.

  ‘God, that’s terrible!’ she exclaimed. ‘Poor girl! She certainly didn’t deserve that.’

  ‘We won’t hold you to it, if you feel differently now,’ Jonathan said, mentally crossing his fingers.

  Maddy shook her head. ‘No; you need to get to the bottom of this, and obviously only a woman can do it. I could suss out the layout, then pretend to lose my way and end up in an office with filing cabinets.’

  Steve opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again.

  ‘I wonder if they have any vacancies next weekend?’ she mused.

  ‘They’ll have plenty, if they keep killing off their clients,’ Steve said grimly. ‘You must promise me not to take any risks, and if there’s the slightest hint that anyone’s watching you too closely, let me know at once and I’ll come straight down and fetch you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,’ she assured him.

  In the event, Lewis waited until he’d checked with the police before phoning Anna. He was informed that there were a few more points to go over, but they should be free to leave after lunch, in time for the flight on which they were originally booked. However, they were asked not to leave the country and warned that they’d be visited by their local police on their return home – a reminder than none of them had an alibi for the time between eight thirty, when Elise left the restaurant, and nine fifteen, when they gathered in the lobby.

  ‘So if you’re still free,’ Lewis told Anna, ‘we can have our weekend after all.’

  ‘That’s great.’ She paused. ‘It was on the news last night; I suppose there are no developments?’

  ‘No, the investigation’s still in its early stages. Personally, I find it quite impossible to take in – it’s so totally bizarre.’

  ‘But surely it was a bungled robbery?’ Though according to this morning’s paper, the estimated time of death was between eight thirty and ten thirty in the morning, an unusual – and risky – time for an opportunist thief to try his luck.

  Lewis met her off the train, and they took a taxi to his flat in Kensington.

  ‘I never use the car when I’m in town,’ he told her.

  In fact, in those first minutes Anna was grateful for the driver’s presence; after two weeks apart, she felt awkward meeting Lewis again, and the prospect of the weekend ahead filled her with an equal mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

  He had described the flat as ‘comfortable’; opulent might have been a better word. Having nodded to the concierge and taken the lift to the top floor, she found that the rooms were large and airy, comprising not only two en suite bedrooms and a large, elegant living area, but also a room complete with long mahogany table and eight chairs, which Lewis referred to as the boardroom.

  ‘We have senior management meetings every quarter,’ he explained, ‘and it’s easier for everyone to meet here. Also, it’s sometimes more convenient to see suppliers
or our advertising people in London, rather than down in Surrey.’

  ‘Do you live here most of the time, then?’ Anna asked. Despite the elegance of the furnishings, there were few personal touches.

  He shook his head. ‘Only if I have business in town, or an evening engagement up here. Otherwise, I’m at my self-contained flat at Mandelyns Court, the Group headquarters.’

  ‘Two flats but no house?’ Anna asked, with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Why should I need a house, when there’s only me? I handed over the family home to my wife when we separated, though she sold it soon afterwards.

  ‘Now –’ his tone changed, indicating that the topic was closed – ‘I suggest you unpack anything you might need for this evening, then we’ll have a drink and some canapés before we go out. That should keep us going until dinner after the show.’

  Oliver Beresford, whom Lewis referred to as his son-out-law, closed the front door softly, then smiled when he saw the line of light under the door of the sitting room. He’d told her not to wait up, but was glad that she had.

  He pushed open the door. Lydia was curled up on the sofa in her dressing gown, head resting against a cushion and eyes closed, while the television, unwatched, bleated in its corner. He crossed the room and switched it off, then, turning, stooped to kiss her. She stirred, opening sleepy eyes.

  ‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ she said, struggling into a more upright position.

  ‘Nor anything else, by the look of you!’ he teased, seating himself beside her and loosening his tie.

  ‘How did the dinner go?’

  ‘As well as can be expected, with a crowd of dry and dusty barristers! But guess who was also at the restaurant?’

  ‘Tom Cruise?’ she asked facetiously.

  ‘Not quite. Your father, with a lady I’ve never seen before.’

  ‘The crafty old devil! What was she like?’

  ‘Quite attractive, actually. Smartly dressed.’

  ‘Which would fit half the population of London! Did he see you?’

  ‘No; I’d no wish to embarrass him, so I kept my distance.’

  ‘Why should he be embarrassed? He’s not a monk. And at least then we’d have known who she was.’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Oliver asked lazily, running a finger round the neckline of her dressing gown. ‘Next time we see him, it’ll probably be someone else.’

  She wriggled under his caress. ‘I’ll phone him tomorrow and tell him he was spotted.’

  ‘Just as you wish. In the meantime, as you might have noticed, I have other things on my mind.’ He bent forward and kissed the space he’d made above her collar. ‘So how about concentrating for now on this old man?’

  ‘With the greatest of pleasure!’ she said.

  At much the same time, Jonathan and Vicky were half-watching the late film on TV. He had waited till the boys were in bed and they were having supper before telling her the full story of his trip to Manchester, and as he’d anticipated, she’d been very shaken by it.

  ‘Are you sure no one knows your connection?’ she asked more than once.

  ‘As sure as I can be, love. Anyway, without the blasted memory stick, we’re no threat to anyone.’

  ‘You say “we”, but it’s really just you, isn’t it? It wasn’t Steve she approached.’

  ‘But he was there when we met. He’s involved, though admittedly not as much as I am.’

  She considered for a moment. ‘So, since you’ve no proof, you’ll forget the whole thing?’ Her eyes pleaded with him.

  ‘Honey, you know me better than that!’ He tried to make a joke of it. ‘I’m a newspaper man!’

  ‘So what are you planning? You might as well tell me.’

  ‘Nothing drastic. But Maddy’s going to book herself into one of the health farms for a weekend’s pampering.’

  ‘A weekend’s snooping, you mean.’

  ‘Obviously, she’ll see what she can find out.’

  ‘And Steve’s happy with that?’

  ‘Not exactly happy, but resigned. It’s the only option open to us.’

  She’d leaned over the table, putting her hand on his. ‘Jonathan, I’ve only just got you back. I don’t want to lose you.’

  ‘Darling girl, you’re not going to! Heavens, this isn’t Chicago!’

  ‘Someone still got killed. Someone you knew. That’s bad enough for me.’

  Now, giving up all pretence of watching television, he put an arm round her. ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ he said softly. ‘It’ll be all right, I promise.’

  ‘I hope to God you’re right,’ she said.

  That weekend, London basked in an Indian summer. On the Saturday, Lewis and Anna took the train to Kew, where they spent an enjoyable day wandering round the gardens and lunched in the Orangery Restaurant. By unspoken agreement, the traumas of Manchester were not mentioned, though Anna found herself casting surreptitious glances at the newspaper billboards they passed. Surely by now the police had tracked down the killer?

  ‘I meant to tell you,’ Lewis said at one point. ‘I had a phone call from Wendy the other day. She wanted to know if we’d kept in touch.’

  Anna smiled. ‘How are they?’

  ‘Fine. I think they’re planning to invite us over some time. Would you like to go?’

  ‘Certainly. I’d love to see them again.’

  ‘Good; I’ll arrange it, then.’

  ‘When we were in South Africa, she mentioned Mandelyns’ thirtieth anniversary. Is that Mandelyns Court, which you referred to earlier?’

  ‘Yes, it was the first one I purchased. Then, when I took over Woodcot and Foxfield, I re-branded them with the Mandelyns tag – Mandelyns Woodcot Grange and Mandelyns Foxfield Hall – to form a Group.’

  ‘And Mandelyns Mandelyns Court?’

  He returned her smile. ‘Hardly; publicly that’s known as Mandelyns Beechford, the nearest town, but “in house”, as it were, we refer to it as Beechford.’

  ‘Simpler, certainly. What form is the celebration taking?’

  ‘Anniversary dinner and overnight stay for friends of the Group, by way of a thank-you – politicians, actors, big business, you name it, as well as heads of the catering and advertising firms we use, and so on. Just over a hundred in all. It’s been a year in the planning, and most of the invitations have already gone out.’ His face clouded. ‘I just hope to God what happened at Manchester won’t put a spoke in the wheel.’

  ‘Surely it’ll all be settled by then. When is this weekend?’

  ‘The twentieth and twenty-first of November – just five weeks away.’ He turned to her suddenly. ‘Will you come, Anna? It would make all the difference to me.’

  ‘Good heavens, why me? I’ve had nothing whatever to do with Mandelyns!’

  ‘But you have with me!’

  ‘But I wouldn’t know anyone. I’d be completely out of my depth.’

  ‘You’d know Wendy and George, and I can invite your son and daughter, too.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Don’t you see? It would be the ideal way for us all to meet. They needn’t know about our relationship, just that we met in South Africa and I’m inviting you, as a friend, and them to keep you company. It’s the perfect solution!’ He looked at her doubtful face. ‘No need to make a decision now; think it over, and you can give me their addresses later.’

  South Africa! Anna thought. How long ago it all seemed – Harry and Susan, and Edda the tour manager; Table Mountain and Durban and the game parks. And losing her way in the dark, she thought before she could stop herself, and inadvertently overhearing Lewis’s phone call. She gave a little shudder.

  ‘Not cold, surely?’ he asked.

  ‘No, just someone walking over my grave.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ His voice was sharp, and at her startled glance, he gave a little laugh. ‘Sorry, but that’s a bit close to home at the moment.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. It was a thoughtless thing to say.’

  Lewis took
her arm. ‘We haven’t been in the Palm House yet,’ he said, leading her in its direction; and, the unwelcome topic safely sidestepped, they resumed their pleasurable tour.

  It had all been wonderful, Anna reflected on the train home. Lewis’s love-making had been as exciting and fulfilling as she remembered, his conversation as stimulating. He’d suggested they meet the following weekend, but she’d reluctantly had to decline. It would be half-term, and Tamsin would be home. She saw little enough of her granddaughter, and intended to be available for any suggested outings.

  Regarding the anniversary, she’d promised to consider the invitation, though she’d held back on Jon and Sophie’s addresses, as a safeguard against changing her mind.

  ‘You could, of course, always tell them about us in advance,’ he suggested. ‘That would work even better.’

  But she’d shaken her head at that. ‘It’d be too soon after my husband’s anniversary; we must wait a decent interval before springing it on them.’

  And mention of Miles had resurrected all the latent feelings of guilt she’d been trying to suppress. In her family’s eyes, a holiday romance would have been betrayal enough, less than a year after his death; continuing it would surely be unforgivable.

  ‘Bring me up to speed on this one, Jim,’ DI Fanshawe instructed. He’d been on leave the previous week and had returned on Monday morning to find a full-scale murder investigation under way.

  Pringle outlined the basic facts. ‘Odds are it’s one of the group,’ he finished, ‘but the problem is proving it. Too bad we had to let them go; cracks might have emerged under further questioning, but we’d nothing to hold them on.’

  ‘They’re from a health farm, you said?’

  ‘That’s right, Mandelyns. Never heard of it myself. The head poncho, Masters, is a plausible devil. Too smooth by half. By the look of him, he’s used to saying, “Jump!” and everyone jumps. Well, not this baby.’

  Fanshawe permitted himself a smile. ‘Leaving aside your north/south biases, Jim, was he able to account for his movements?’

  ‘No, that’s the devil of it: none of them could. They were off the radar from the time they left the dining room till they met for the day’s jaunt some forty minutes later. Any one of them could have nipped to her room, done the deed, and been back in time, looking innocent as the day. Forensics say they wouldn’t have had any blood on them; there was just the one clean wound, and the girl’s clothing soaked up most of it.’