All the Rage

by Spencer Coleman

  He shook his head, slowly. ‘Just do your job, Kara. Trust has to be earned from now on. ’

  She almost spat in his face. Visibly shaking, she shouted, ‘Oh, fuck off, Michael. You’ll have my resignation on your desk this afternoon. Don’t you see what all this is doing to you? To us? To everyone? ’ Without waiting for a reply, Kara turned sharply and stormed from the room.

  In her wake, he was left shocked by the hostility that reared up so suddenly and unexpectedly. He couldn’t work out how the hell that all happened, and with such speed. He was losing his grip.

  ***

  Kara hurried to the downstairs kitchen, slamming doors as she went. She wept uncontrollably and kicked the waste paper bin across the floor.

  ‘Fuck you! ’ she screamed at the empty room. She felt the mascara running down her cheeks like the black markings on a circus clown. She felt like one. Utterly humiliated, and ridiculed. How could he possibly think like that?

  ‘The bastard! ’ This time the word came out unintentionally loud. She washed her face in cold water. When she removed the towel from her face, Ronald was standing next to her. It gave her a sudden jolt.

  ‘Jesus, Ronald. Stop creeping around. ’

  ‘I was just making sure you were all right. ’ He raised his eyebrows in a theatrical manner. ‘There appears to be a lot of commotion going on, and I was concerned. Can I do anything to help? ’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine. ’

  ‘You don’t look fine, if I may be so bold. ’ He went past her and retrieved the upturned bin. He began filling it with the discarded tissues scattered over the sink.

  ‘Just a misunderstanding, that’s all,’ Kara said, to reassure him. ‘Thanks for coming down to check on me. ’ She grabbed another tissue and wiped her eyes.

  ‘Well, I’ve never seen you like this before. ’

  Kara needed air. And space. ‘Well, just be thankful that you don’t have to put up with me when I’ve got PMT, OK? I can be the bitch from hell. ’ She watched his eyes glaze over. This greatly amused her. It was a sure fire way to make his retreat a hasty one. All men were the same. It was her first chuckle of the day.

  ***

  Michael hated himself for being so brutal. He had hurriedly departed from the gallery just to gather his thoughts. He had been a bully, and his anger was getting the better of him. He walked the streets aimlessly, cooling off.

  ***

  Kara made tea. Ronald gave her a wide berth, she noticed. She was still seriously pissed off by the outburst from her boss, who hadn’t returned to the gallery for over an hour. It was so out of character. What was going on in his head? She cupped the drink to her lips, but she was still shaking and managed to spill hot camomile on her blouse. The telephone rang and she answered it. It was the engineer from road traffic security. He was matter of fact, explaining that as the required days had lapsed,the department was no longer able to offer assistance in the apprehension of the vandals who had previously broken windowpanes in the front door. He was powerless to do more. The camera would now revert to its normal duties.

  Kara thanked the engineer, but felt guilty for using him in her little game. Some little game. She thought of the camera. Only she and Michael were aware of the trick they had been trying to pull. They had never let Ronald in on the ruse. Then there was the latest intrusion with the email. Why the change of tack? More disturbingly, it was on her personal email. Who had access to this? She counted only a handful of people. The name of the sender had provided no clue either: guardianangel@aol.com. That could be anyone, friend or foe.

  Trying the obvious thing she had emailed a simple demand: who are you? No reply was forthcoming. Some guardian angel!

  Her scrambled thoughts turned to work colleagues. Such a peculiar arrangement, millions of people around the world cooped up with each other daily. It was universally accepted that workers in an office saw more of their co-workers than their partners at home. Often, as a result, a special bond developed, creating a strange and alternative existence like living in a bubble. Consequently, a thin line between love and hate connected all those people, bringing dependency, intimacy and sometimes, betrayal. Why, then, did this thought bother her so much?

  Just then, she caught sight of Ronald standing transfixed by the door. She craned her neck for a better view and followed his gaze. He was staring at the CCTV camera as it swivelled back to its original sightline. After a moment, he scurried off to make himself busy. He had a knack of keeping busy. But nothing got past Ronald; he had the ears of a hare, and the eyes of a hawk. And he had access to her private email. Just supposing, what if Michael was right? Had she given out information without realising it? Thinking back, her colleague had a knack of doing this expertly as well: extracting gossip. Idle chitchat, picking up on a slip of the tongue…call it what you like. And another thing, he never took sides. He was as comfortable with Michael as he was with Adele. He always sat on the fence, as if, should the axe begin to fall, he was ready and waiting to go with the victor.

  She studied him closely. Was he the messenger, or the instigator?

  Was he the puppet or the puppet master? Was he the guardian angel? Kara shuddered, thought of Michael, and made a plan.

  ***

  It was easy, really. Tomorrow was her day off. Michael was away at the Shoreditch gallery. Ronald would be alone. Before closing, she made a makeshift printed card and hid it in her desk. Michael returned to the gallery, avoiding all eye contact with her. For the moment, this suited her well.

  ***

  Hours passed. It was Michael who made the initial move. He found Kara in the kitchen, preparing her own Caesar salad.

  ‘Looks good,’ he remarked.

  She glanced up. ‘There’s enough for two. ’

  ‘That would be great. ’ He pulled a chair out from beneath the table and perched atop it. He was still uncomfortable and she sensed it. He felt clumsy and intrusive. She remained at the sink, with her back to him, occupying herself with tossing the chicken and cos lettuce in a bowl.

  ‘Do you want croutons with yours? ’ Kara asked.

  ‘Whatever you do, it will be perfect…unlike my manners. ’

  She half turned. ‘What did you say? ’

  ‘I owe you a big apology. I was totally out of order with what I said. ’

  She turned full circle. ‘It was a heat of the moment thing, I know that now. ’ She wiped her hands on a dishcloth. ‘We are both under enormous pressure, and you know what they say about hurting those nearest to you. ’

  He shook his head. ‘It was still unforgivable, Kara. I am so sorry for the accusations that I threw at you. They were unjustified. ’

  ‘I’m sorry, too. It’s a very bad time. Everything is slowly falling to pieces. I’m freaked because Marcus won’t open up as to what is bothering him. These unwanted messages we keep getting are doing my head in. What do they mean? On top of that, I’ve discovered that Adele has been tampering with my files, even more than we first suspected. I hadn’t the heart to tell you, I thought I could be clever and sort it. ’ Then she looked at him anxiously. ‘Michael, I’m scared. I think you should call the police. ’

  ‘No. We can handle it. ’

  Kara finished mixing the salad and served up the plates. She sat opposite him and took his hand. ‘That’s the whole point, Michael. I don’t think we can handle it. Just look at us earlier in the day, at each other’s throats. ’

  Michael picked up a fork and fiddled with his food. ‘No police. I can deal with Adele. A friend of mine is unravelling the messages. Someone close to us is feeding information as a warning. I now know just what that warning is, but,’ and he emphasised the point, ‘I think the less you know at this stage the better. I have deliberately kept things from you, Kara. ’ He lowered his voice. ‘Someone knows my every move. That is why I became suspicious of you
. Can you see my point? ’

  ‘Yes, I can, but I don’t like it. ’

  ‘What I can tell you is I have evidence that Julius is alive. It’s flimsy at this stage, but it’s all I’ve got. Only two people have the motive to send those messages, and that is Antonia and Julius. And it isn’t Antonia. ’

  ‘Are you suggesting that Julius is here in London? ’

  ‘It’s a possibility. ’

  ‘Why doesn’t he make direct contact? ’

  ‘Because it suits him to remain invisible,’ Michael said. ‘I made a pact with Antonia. I agreed to leave her alone. This is their way of repaying that faith, to warn me. I’m on to something, Kara. We are in the process of conducting a multimillion pound sale of paintings. I stand to make a great deal of money, which should save the business. At the moment we’re on the brink of financial ruin. But…and it is a big “but”, the twelve paintings to be disposed of have a gigantic question mark against them, as to authenticity and rightful ownership. Until I find out the answer to these facts, we carry on as normal. ’

  ‘Normal? ’ Kara bit her bottom lip. ‘I can’t remember what that is!’

  She picked at her salad. Michael seemed to have no appetite, either.

  ‘We need to act as if nothing has happened,’ he said. ‘It’s imperative that I am given the time to sort this bloody mess out. I need your undivided support. ’

  She wasn’t convinced. ‘How? ’

  ‘Carry on with the inventory on Monday. Go to the farm. I’ve suggested that you take Marcus. Use him. Do what is necessary and then get out. Take the easel and camera and tripod. Do the photography of each image. Look and act smart. Do not get entangled in conversation with Lauren. Just do your job and then get out of there ASAP. ’

  ‘Where will you be? ’

  ‘Dublin. ’

  ‘I’ve read the anonymously sent messages, Michael, and I can see the connection, but what do you hope to achieve with this trip? ’

  ‘The content of the messages relate solely to one family, and the history of that family has a direct bearing on the sudden availability of the Patrick Porter collection. What I hope to uncover is pivotal to the story that is only now, finally, unveiling itself to us. ’

  Kara screwed her face. ‘Does the story have a happy ending? ’

  Michael pushed his plate aside. ‘It is my firm belief that Julius and Antonia want their freedom at any price, but not at Lauren’s considerable gain. They can’t come forward for fear of jeopardising their future, so they are asking me to scupper her plans. ’

  ‘Julius wants his revenge. ’

  ‘Exactly, and that includes his pound of flesh. ’

  They stared long and hard at each other.

  Confused, Kara wriggled her nose. ‘Why would Julius expect to enlist the help of someone who would have a great deal to lose if everything then went pear-shaped? It doesn’t make sense. ’

  ‘That’s precisely what I need to find out. ’

  Kara picked up the unfinished salads and scraped them into the bin.

  ***

  Later, Michael took a phone call from his solicitor. It was in connection with his aggressive manner in his recent dealings with his wife.

  ‘Michael, back off,’ he instructed. ‘I have a letter here from Adele’s solicitor. Apparently, you called at the house and threatened her. You are also accused of abusive language to a certain John Fitzgerald. They warn that any repeat behaviour will not be tolerated. If it happens again, she will take out an injunction which will forbid you access to the family home. ’

  ‘Hang on a minute, he called me! ’ He then considered his solicitor’s last sentence. ‘Can she do that? ’

  ‘Yes. ’

  ‘Can I take out an injunction that forbids her to leave the house? That way everyone is happy. ’

  ‘Michael, this is not helpful. ’

  ‘Neither is sabotage. I have evidence that Adele is tampering with company files. Is that not construed as threatening behaviour of a different kind? ’

  The line went quiet. ‘Michael, perhaps you should come and see me. I also have an official offer of settlement. ’

  ‘Email it. ’

  ‘I would rather we discussed it face to face. ’

  ‘That bad, eh? ’

  ‘As bad as it can get. ’

  ***

  His composure surprised him. Adele was clever, but not that clever. He would test her patience. She could stew on it, whilst he weighed up his options. Then he would give her his considered response. She could have everything if she so desired, including the debt. He would quietly take the money and run. She always maintained that she could make more of a success of the business than him. From a distance, it would be fun to watch her floundering in the sea, without a life jacket, surrounded by sharks.

  ***

  Kara organised his flight to Shannon International airport. He had elected to travel to Limerick first, by hire car, in order to keep a watchful eye on Maggie. Then he would travel northeast to Dublin. His flight time was 7. 30am, the next morning, from Gatwick. His return ticket was open.

  ***

  Before departing for the day, he had time to give Kara written directions to Laburnum Farm. She was hardly enthusiastic.

  ‘I’m not entirely sure about this, Michael. ’

  ‘Neither am I. But I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve been a bit of a bastard recently, and you need cheering up. If this all goes according to plan, I think it is only right that you receive a little bonus. ’

  ‘A pay rise? ’ Her eyes lit up in anticipation.

  ‘Better than that, how about £25,000 in your hand: Have we a deal? ’ Bribery and corruption extended to all walks of life, Michael concluded. He really needed for her to do this for him. The money was an inducement, a confirmation of her commitment to him. She was vital to him. Now he was offering the bait. He wasn’t buying trust, but it was a close second best.

  ‘Are you crazy? ’ she asked, suppressing a giggle.

  ‘Take it. I’ll only offer it once. It also ensures that you won’t hand in your resignation which you threatened to do earlier. ’

  ‘Done,’ she said, somewhat embarrassed.

  He then embraced her warmly. Then he was gone.

  ***

  It unsettled her to discover it was near closing time, and Michael was no longer by her side. Now she had to put her plan into practise. Tracking down Ronald to the stockroom, she explained that she would be working late and therefore happy to close up. It was quiet, she suggested, and therefore unnecessary for both of them to see out the last half an hour. Ronald was equally happy to take up her offer to catch an earlier train than usual. After he left, Kara retrieved the card she’d hidden in her desk and sellotaped it to the entrance door, facing out, so the message could be clearly read in the entrance porch, but not from the pavement. Whoever entered first in the morning would have no difficulty finding it. That person would be Ronald.

  After closing, Kara went home, exhausted, soon to be richer by £25,000, and just a little apprehensive. She ran through the message she had written. Each word was imprinted on her mind:

  MEET ME AT 12. 30PM. BRITISH MUSEUM. PRINTS & DRAWING ROOM, NEXT TO THE EPIFANIA CARTOON BY MICHELANGELO. FAIL TO SHOW UP AND I WILL GO STRAIGHT TO THE POLICE. I KNOW YOUR GAME.

  ***

  All night, she was restless. She watched television but couldn’t recall one single programme that held her attention. She sat alone, ate a crap sandwich and drank half a bottle of chilled white wine. Marcus was painting in the back room, behind a closed door. Since the episode with his drinking blackout, he was distant and uncommunicative. She brooded on this, determined to confront him if this continued for much longer. She despised his childish stand-off. Something was seriously up. Just to confi
rm it, he even refused his favourite supper, the cold remains of last night’s chicken tikka marsala, which he usually shoved between the folded stiffened and stale Nan bread. Simply glorious, would be his usual response to this culinary delight. This time he simply turned up his nose at the idea. That told her everything.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Michael was packed and ready to go within an hour of arriving at his apartment. He travelled light and always prided himself on organising his life in double quick time. He ate sparingly and took the call he was expecting. Terence had unearthed all the vital information he required. He was now armed with names and contact addresses that related to all those connected to the 1978 murder investigation. In particular, the whereabouts of retired senior police officer, Paddy McGuire, who led the murder enquiry, and Dr. Joseph O’Connor, who was instrumental in treating the child named ‘Laura’ whilst in the prison psychiatric hospital. He, too, was retired, living on the south side of the city of Dublin. More importantly, Terence gave him another unexpected lead. It was a surprise one which he wasn’t sure he should pursue at this stage, especially as it could be construed as a morally repugnant move. But he would see how it all went. It was his trump card. He could stoop as low as was necessary.

  He pondered his next move. In his hand, he held the card which Maggie had given him with her telephone number. He was reluctant to give his movements away, but felt compelled to make contact. He needed to know where she was. He dialled.