False Diamond--An Abbot Agency Mystery

by Veronica Heley

  ‘Can I cook you something, Mrs A?’ Zander looked slumberously content.

  Bea knew the meaning of that look. Successful sex. Ah, but … She felt a little shocked. Had Zander … In spite of all his protestations? And Maggie had enjoyed it?

  Whoops. No business of yours to interfere, Bea, or even to comment. Instead, think, Bravo, children! You’ve made up? Good!

  ‘Food?’ She shook her head. ‘I was going to have a takeaway.’

  Maggie said, ‘You never!’ into the phone. She was smiling.

  Zander put Winston down on the floor. ‘Maggie took a call for you on the landline just now. She said CJ – is that right? – was coming round to see you. She told him she thought that would be all right and that you wouldn’t mind.’

  Maggie was still on the phone, laughing at something she’d heard. ‘Really? What fun! Yes, of course you have to get ready for supper. I’ll ring you again tomorrow, right?’ She clicked off her phone. ‘Bernice has a new pair of wellies with pink stars on them, and tomorrow she’s going to be taken to the Harry Potter experience, and next week she’s starting at a new school. She sounds fine. I didn’t like to ask if she knew about the deaths in the family, but she said straight off that her great auntie had told her about her daddy and her brothers, and they all agreed it was terribly sad, but that she was going to see her mummy soon, and that would cheer them all up. I think the Hollands are handling the situation rather well.’

  Zander put his arm around Maggie, proudly grinning at Bea. ‘She’s gone all broody, wants a child of her own soonest, and I’m more than happy to oblige.’

  SIXTEEN

  ‘I’m delighted,’ said Bea. And she was … for two seconds. Then she realized that Zander marrying Maggie was going to mean the girl moving away, leaving Bea all alone in her big house. She kept her smile on, though. ‘I’m thrilled for you. Both of you.’

  Maggie snuggled into Zander’s shoulder. ‘My mother won’t approve, of course—’

  ‘We’ll manage,’ said Zander. ‘I’ve been offered yet another promotion, and I’ve been saving like mad, hoping that one day Maggie would agree to marry me. And now she has. We want to do the deed as quickly as possible. It’ll have to be in a registry office because of Maggie’s first disastrous marriage, but we can have a blessing in my church afterwards.’

  Maggie said, ‘We thought Oliver could be best man, and you’re to be Matron of Honour, but—’

  They looked at one another, and then at Bea. ‘Would it be possible, would you mind very much if we lived here in the top flat till we’ve found somewhere else? All that’s needed is to change my single bed for a double. What do you think?’

  So they weren’t going to leave her all alone, after all. They sounded really worried that Bea wouldn’t agree, but she was delighted. ‘Bless you, my children. I can’t think of anything I’d like better. Please, don’t be in any hurry to move.’ Bea embraced them both. ‘I’m thrilled. Does Oliver know yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’ They were flushed and laughing. ‘We wanted to ask you first.’

  The doorbell rang. Smiling, Bea went to let CJ into the hall.

  ‘Are you all right, Bea?’ He looked serious. Almost, worried.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be? Maggie and Zander have just got engaged and are going to stay on here in the top flat. Isn’t that good?’

  ‘Excellent,’ he said, in a tone laden with doom.

  Bea twitched a frown at him. ‘Come and congratulate them.’

  ‘Does Oliver know?’

  ‘You think he’d object?’

  ‘No, of course not. He can always move into my son’s old flat if he feels he’s being squeezed out here.’

  Trust CJ to put a damper on their high spirits. Bea was annoyed with him, though she conceded that he had a point. Oliver must not feel he was being pushed out of his home.

  The happy pair accepted CJ’s congratulations and went off to have a celebratory supper locally.

  ‘Well, CJ. Shall I cook something for us?’ said Bea, thinking it was the last thing she wanted to do.

  ‘I have a table booked at that steak place up the road.’

  Bea immediately felt she’d prefer to cook for him at home, but couldn’t very well say so. She wondered what it was that made the men in her life always choose to take her to restaurants she’d just been to. All right, this particular restaurant wasn’t bad, and it was nearby.

  She fetched her coat, checked that the alarm was on and accepted CJ’s arm to walk up the road to the restaurant.

  Once they were settled and had placed their order, he gave a little cough. ‘I was concerned about you. Those attacks. And, you’re looking, well, not quite yourself.’

  Bea, who had been feeling fairly perky, winced, remembering her slapped face and her terror at being followed by the biker. She forced a smile. ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘Good. Not everyone has come out of this as well. Defenestration, I believe they call it.’

  ‘De-what? Out of the window? As in … Wasn’t that the Czech way of disposing of inconvenient or redundant politicians? You mean someone’s been thrown out of a window?’

  ‘Top floor, twenty-something storeys. Not much left.’

  ‘Pity the street cleaners!’

  CJ did not care for levity. Bea reflected that Inspector Durrell would probably have tried to cap her comment. What might he have said? ‘Another little job for the undertaker?’ Or possibly made a reference to raspberry jam. She stifled a sigh. The trouble with CJ was that you couldn’t take the horror out of a situation by having a giggle with him about it. ‘I don’t know anyone who’s jumped out of a window lately, do I?’

  ‘The chief accountant for Holland Holdings.’

  Now there was a blow to the solar plexus. What was the matter with her? She ought to have seen that coming. ‘Did she fall, or was she pushed?’

  ‘Yes, that is the question. I see you already know it was a woman. White wine or red? It should be red with steak, but if you’re tired …?’

  Bea ground her teeth. Yes, she was tired. But she actually needed a full-bodied red wine at that moment. ‘Red, please. I am happy to say I don’t know anyone in that organization, apart from Leon and Benton. And Leon won’t even admit to being in their employ.’

  ‘Ah.’ He folded long-fingered hands one over the other and produced his Cheshire Cat smile.

  She could have hit him. Not that that would have done any good. ‘I see you are big with news. Tell.’

  ‘You must understand that I have access to information through my contacts which—’

  ‘I understand. Nothing you say can be substantiated. It’s all rumour. But true.’

  ‘I believe so. You read the papers, don’t you? Perhaps not the Financial Times …’

  ‘Are you suggesting that I am unable to read more than two words a minute? Yes –’ with sarcasm – ‘I read one of the tabloids every day over breakfast. And The Times, too. Sometimes. When I have a minute to spare.’

  He frowned. ‘You must be aware there’s been considerable public reaction to the fact that certain companies have, quite legally, been avoiding payment of tax to the British exchequer by claiming their registered office is overseas.’

  ‘Big flapdoodle. It’s not illegal, but it is immoral, right?’

  ‘Quite. A factory based in Birmingham, for instance, may have its registered office in the Cayman Islands …’

  ‘Ah.’ She was adding up the column of figures faster than CJ could spit them out.

  ‘Which is so they can pay a lower rate of tax there than they would have to do here.’

  Bea said, ‘Wait a minute. I understood the Holland mansion here was their head office.’

  ‘Yes, but not their registered office—’

  ‘Which is in the Cayman Islands. And there’s a big scare on, which brought Sybil haring back from the States and drew in the younger brother willy nilly. Mm. Do you think their chief accountant has been caught diverting money from accounts in the Cay
man Islands to … herself? Or to herself and partner?’

  ‘All conjecture.’

  The waiter plonked their plates down in front of them. Her stomach was queasy, for she could now put a different interpretation on Leon’s quest for information. ‘Was this chief accountant, perhaps, a susceptible woman, who might have been persuaded to depart from the straight and narrow by a much younger man?’

  ‘So they say. This wine is almost tolerable.’

  ‘Benton, of course. He had a habit of getting his own way through his attentions to women. So he seduced her … which partly accounts for his swift rise through Holland Holdings and his then being in a position to capture the eye of the boss’s daughter. May I assume that the aforesaid chief accountant was old Mr Holland’s tried and trusted right-hand woman? Been with him for ever and a day?’

  ‘There is a hint that the partnership might have been very close in the past. Mistress and accountant to Mr Holland, a double whammy, as they say.’ He allowed himself a tiny smile at his apology for a joke.

  Bea acknowledged his quip with a nod. ‘We know that Benton needed money, was in debt, probably being blackmailed … Yes, I have good reason to make that statement, but we won’t go into details now. He needed money. She was in charge of moving it around the world. Might we not toy with the idea that he induced her to siphon some of it off in his direction? It would tally with what I know of him. But then something went wrong. Ah. An audit was due?’

  He took another sip of wine. ‘Such a very complex organization requires the services of a good accountant over a long period of time. Sometimes they can take years to agree the amount of tax due to HM Revenue and Customs.’

  ‘Benton was Boy Wonder for Holland Holdings long before the eight or nine years during which he was married to Dilys. How long ago did the jiggery pokery start?’

  CJ’s nose whiffled at the use of ‘jiggery pokery’ but he said, ‘My information would indicate that it is fairly recent.’

  Bea descended to counting on her fingers. ‘How many years would the accountants have been lagging behind, do you think? Three or four? No more than that. Probably less. Say two, possibly three. The conspirators realized that Judgement Day couldn’t be put off for ever. The great big wheel was coming nearer and nearer to Vera.’

  Did CJ know the old song about the wheel coming nearer and nearer to Vera, which took Bea back to the flickering black and white movies of old, in which the heroine was always being tied up and threatened with an unpleasant death by some fiendish villain or other? Bea couldn’t for the moment recall whether or not the wheel which was approaching Vera had been a part of a lumber mill. And then there was the episode in which the train bore down upon the heroine, who was tied up on the tracks. ‘Vera’ was always saved at the last minute, of course.

  ‘I regret I am not acquainted with Vera,’ said CJ in his driest tone, ‘Nor am I able to tell you exactly how far the auditors had got. Do eat up. You’re looking tired.’

  No woman feels better for being told she looks tired. Bea gave him a glare which he declined to notice. She picked up her knife and fork and managed to eat a couple of mouthfuls. Realized how hungry she was, and tucked in. Only when she’d finished did she speak again.

  ‘Right. An audit was due, or something else alerted Mr Holland to the fact that he was being bamboozled big time by people he’d trusted for ever. Ah, I think I may know what triggered the catastrophe for the conspirators. The deputy accountant – a man called Adamsson – is reported to have had a blazing row with his boss and with Benton, in which he accused the pair of treason, international money-laundering and pilfering the petty cash. Righteous indignation on the part of the chief accountant and Benton. Adamsson is sacked and departs, muttering threats to all and sundry.

  ‘But Adamsson’s words start a slow rumble in Mr Holland’s mind. The firm of H & B services his household, which is the main reason for its existence as far as he is concerned. His daughter, whom he doesn’t see often, had been satisfactorily – as far as he knew – married off to Benton and had produced a reasonable quiver of children. Old Mr Holland has an acute financial brain. He hasn’t been using it much in recent years, but now Adamsson’s words have made him uneasy. He takes a look at the books of H & B. Shock, horror! The firm is not doing well. Dividends are way down. But, it’s a piddling little firm compared to the might of Holland Holdings so … perhaps a word of warning in Benton’s ear? That should do the trick. He still doesn’t realize that H & B’s been in trouble for yonks and that Benton’s been taking increasingly desperate steps to refinance them.

  ‘Once roused, Mr Holland can’t rest. He begins to think the unthinkable; could Adamsson be right? Is Holland Holdings really in trouble? He demands an up-to-date review of their finances. The answers he gets are not to his liking. So what does he do next? He summons reinforcements in the shape of his sister Sybil. She’s a rich woman in her own right but, like him, she’s not one to sit back and let herself be cheated.’

  ‘I have no information about her.’

  ‘Take it from me, she’s a formidable lady. She storms over from the States, drags Leon in, and there is a family conference. Red flags pop up all over the place. Mr Holland’s trusted accountant realizes the game is up and jumps. When exactly did she do the deed?’

  ‘Ten days ago.’

  ‘She took the easy way out by falling out of the sky. End of. Leaving Benton to take the ensuing flack, and the money … I wonder where the money has gone to? Beyond the first drop to the Cayman Islands, I mean.’ She also wondered how Leon was getting on, tracing Benton’s accounts … and how long it would take to locate the missing millions and get them returned. If, indeed, it were possible to do so.

  CJ said, ‘You can’t be drawn into this mess through Max, can you?’

  ‘I sincerely hope not.’ She shuddered. ‘Yes, Benton was trying to build up the fortunes of the ailing firm of H & B by enticing me and Max on to their board of directors. And yes, Max was anxious to play at one time, but I think he’s learned his lesson there. Perhaps it was a sign of desperation on Benton’s part that he felt he had to rough me up and chase me around on a friend’s scooter?’

  ‘Scooter?’

  ‘All right. Motorbike. And no, I don’t know for sure who was on that bike, but I think I know how to find out. Trying to terrify a middle-aged woman by such tactics is a ploy born out of desperation, wouldn’t you say?’ She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of wine. ‘Benton wasn’t as clever as he thought he was. As witness his being taken in by the Joker. Leon Holland to you.’

  ‘Ah. You do think he’s taking a hand in the game, then?’

  ‘I do. Let’s look at the facts. Long-estranged younger brother. Financially sound through his own efforts in other directions. Currently at a loose end. The Hollands’ solution was to bring him in as trouble spotter and hatchet man. Leon – out of curiosity, perhaps – does exactly what they want him to do. I think he identified Benton as the main conspirator straight away, which explains why he infiltrates Benton’s household pretending to be an undischarged bankrupt. He observes what’s going on there, he listens to everything, he sits in on meetings, he saves Dilys’s life and he makes up to me as a possible saviour for H & B.’

  ‘Did he kill Benton?’

  ‘He’s ruthless enough, but I can’t see him killing the two boys.’

  ‘Did Benton commit suicide because he’d been found out and was about to be prosecuted?’

  Silence. Then, ‘It feels wrong. It doesn’t feel as if it’s to do with money, but … No, I know that’s no sort of answer. It depends on my instinct, and you are about to say that instinct is not evidence.’

  ‘Agreed, but personally I value your instincts. Tell me what you suspect.’

  ‘About Benton’s death? I really have no idea. Well, I do have a vague thought wandering about at the back of my mind, but nothing coherent as yet. About Leon? He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He got me to find Benton’s missing memory sti
ck, and then to find the password for it. The information on it will probably give him enough clues to trace where some of the money has gone. How much is missing?’

  ‘Estimates vary from ten million to ten billion.’

  That amused her. ‘There is a difference. But even if it’s only one million that’s missing – hark at me saying only one million! – it’s more than enough in my estimation. It’s worth taking a risk or two.’

  ‘Worth killing Benton for?’

  She frowned. ‘I’m struggling with that.’

  ‘Coffee? No? Then I’ll walk you home. Guard you from attack by bikers.’

  Was he trying to make another joke? Possibly. She smiled her appreciation and thanked him. She was aware he would like to be invited in for a late night snifter of brandy, or whatever, and she didn’t really want to do so. He was a very old friend, but lately he was sending her signals that he would like to take matters further, which she did not want to do. How to turn him down without offending him?

  Perhaps the biker would magically appear on her doorstep? But it wasn’t a biker who awaited her on her return.

  Bea heard a plaintive wailing as they turned into her road and identified it with the antennae of a grandmother. ‘That’s Pippin, my grandson. What on earth …?’

  It was indeed Pippin, struggling in his mother’s arms, unhappy about being roused from sleep and taken out into the cold night. Nicole was muffled in a huge fake fur coat and Russian style hat. She was crying.

  CJ stopped short. ‘What’s your daughter-in-law doing out with the boy at this time of night?’

  ‘You may well ask,’ said Bea, thinking grimly that she could probably guess. ‘Come in, Nicole. Give me Pippin. There, there, little one. Thanks for the meal, CJ. It was good of you to spare the time, but I must just … Where’s my key? And I’ll turn off the alarm. Don’t just stand there, Nicole. Come on in.’