by L M Bee
“I can’t bear to see you like this, darling. My money is your money, especially if it means the new house will be finished in time for Christmas. As we’ve already agreed, it’ll be a fabulous time for the children to get to know you. All I need to do is phone my bank manager, and he can email the paperwork. If you can let me have the use of a desk and a phone somewhere where I won’t be disturbing anyone, I’ll call him right away.”
“Oh darling, that would solve everything, are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Now, when does the money have to be in the builders’ account?”
“Close of business today.”
“Okay, and we’re one hour ahead here, so there’s no time to waste. I’ll make the call straight away.”
“Darling, have my desk, it’s the most private spot. I’ll leave you in peace.”
He wiped his face as if brushing away the remains of his tears, and stood up to hold her close with such love and affection, kissing her long and hard.
“Darling, you’re doing me the most enormous favour, I’m so very grateful to you. Now we’ll be able to have a lovely family Christmas altogether, and keep our secret pact.”
Mary glowed as she watched him leave the room. Sitting at his desk felt good, being able to help him felt even better. She flipped opened her new MacBook Air and searched Contacts for her bank manager’s personal mobile number.
Annabel bounced in.
“Hi, Mr H said you need the builders’ bank account details. Here, I’ve printed them off for you on this bit of paper. And Maria’s on her way up with a fresh pot of tea and some homemade cake for you.”
“Thank you, Annabel.”
“Let me know when you’re finished, and I’ll track down Mr H for you. He’s keen to show you round the offices, though I doubt you’ll want to traipse round all twenty-one floors! Anita, his PA, is dying to meet you too. The helicopter’s booked to pick you both up from The Fairmont at four o’clock. Mr H said if there’s time before take off, he’d like to stop at the rooftop bar for a quick glass of celebratory champagne. Give me a shout if you need anything.”
Mary’s bank manager was surprised to say the least. Having personally looked after three generations of Pembrokes and knowing the family well, this request was a bolt out of the blue. Quite a shock to be honest, but Mary seemed so adamant. After he had carefully carried out the required regulatory process in his client’s best interest, he couldn’t help adding with a hint of genuine concern, “I have to ask, Mrs Pembroke, are you absolutely certain that you have no suspicions about this transaction or the recipient?”
“None whatsoever!” confirmed Mary decisively.
Henry Pembroke had been an exceedingly wealthy man, leaving substantial amounts in various accounts and investment portfolios, it was now up to his widow how she wanted to spend it. Professionally he wasn’t permitted to authorise a transaction of this size without another senior colleague, but Mary was so insistent that he summoned someone immediately to endorse the transfer without delay; maintaining the bank’s longstanding relationship with the Pembroke family warranted pulling a few strings. He gave Mary his word, the money would be in the builders’ account by the end of the day.
She didn’t have to wait long for his email confirming the successful transaction, buzzing with satisfaction at her good deed. Helping Ollie made her feel like she really mattered, made her feel needed too.
Transaction complete.
The full amount had been transferred into the builders’ bank account.
Chapter 21
Tense and close to tears, Sophia remained in her car, reluctant to get out. She didn’t feel like working today. How could she concentrate on anything when Mary’s situation was so worrying? Convinced that Oliver Harrison was being underhand, it was doing her head in, driving her demented with the nightmarish thought that had lodged in her brain: how did he know before meeting Mary for the first time that they would have lunch together later that day?
Sophia wished Bernard was on site to share her concerns, but there was no sign of his car yet. His pragmatic approach and words of wisdom always made her feel less anxious, more able to cope. Hopefully he would appear soon. Today was the day they should get an answer from the Chief of Police too, with the results of the ID check.
Eventually Sophia hauled herself out of the car, and walked towards the farmhouse, not feeling herself at all. Her first meeting was due to start shortly, with a small group of subcontractors who’d just arrived on site for the first time. After showing them the ropes, keen not to reveal how distracted she was, Sophia set them a task that would keep them busy for the next few hours, enabling her to escape for a moment. She wandered down to the bottom of the garden, safely out of sight, and stood like a zombie staring blankly into the green slime in the bottom of the pool.
Oliver Fucking Harrison! She wanted to scream angrily at the top of her voice. Emotions running high, she screwed her fists up into balls and pounded them into her forehead, her face twisted in gargoyle grimace – teeth clenched, eyes brimming with tears, unable to stop a guttural wail escaping from deep inside.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
She thought she was completely alone until she heard a timid cough of awkwardness. Fists still up, she swivelled round to face the sound. It was Bernard, who’d just arrived on site and had come to look for her.
“Everything all right?” he ventured.
Sophia blushed, looking down at the ground, and made an immense effort to pull herself together.
“Yes. Sorry. Thank you.” She was struggling to hold back the tsunami of tears.
“All right then, see you in a bit,” he mumbled, starting to walk away.
Unable to contain her tears of frustration a moment longer, ashamed at breaking down in front of him, Sophia turned her back and crumpled in despair.
Rushing round the pool, Bernard swiftly put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her back up, rummaging in his corduroy trousers for a handkerchief.
“Here, come and sit down,” he said, guiding her towards the stone bench and handing her his red and white spotted handkerchief.
“What on earth’s happened? Is it Mary?” he asked.
Taking a deep breath, and sitting up straighter, Sophia’s voice verged on hysterical as she tried to answer.
“Yes,” she gulped. “I think something really bad’s going on, and I’ve no idea what to do.” Her words rose in a squeal of desperation.
“Are you sure?” asked Bernard.
But before Sophia could answer, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. She peered at the unknown number, hastily considering whether or not to answer it. Blowing her nose loudly into Bernard’s handkerchief, she pulled herself together and mustered her best businesslike tone of voice.
“Yes, hello.”
“Er, is that Madame Mary Pembroke?”
Glancing guiltily at Bernard, she said, “Yes, this is she.”
“It’s Sylvan from Monsieur Bisset’s residence. You asked me to call if we heard any more from the police.”
“Oh yes, thank you for calling.”
“The police have confirmed that the fingerprints taken at the pool house, and the fingerprints taken in the garage, belong to the same person. The thief disabled the security camera and then picked the lock on the garage doors to steal the sports car.”
“Is anything else missing?”
“No, just Monsieur Bisset’s precious classic car. Apparently it’s the sports car he drove when courting his wife, Genevieve. They’re both deeply upset about the theft; the car has great sentimental value for them.”
Sophia wasn’t sure how to put the next question, especially in front of Bernard, and purposefully phrased it slightly ambiguously.
“Um, did you mention to them that we met?”
“To the police?” he queried, not sure if he’d understood the question correctly.
“Er, yes that’s what I meant,” she replied, feeling Bernard’s gaze boring into
her.
Sylvan coughed bashfully. “Madame Pembroke, because of the circumstances in which we met, I thought it best not to mention your visit to anyone. The girl you met, Maria, her mother’s very ill and unable to work. Maria needs to keep her job in order to support her family.”
“I understand. Thank you for letting me know. Will you call me if the police find the car?”
“Yes, Madame.”
“Thank you very much.”
Sophia put the phone down, took a deep breath, and turned to Bernard.
“Proof! He’s a crook!”
“Tell me everything you know, from the beginning,” said Bernard.
Sophia explained as best she could, how Oliver Harrison first met Mary on the beach, on his way to lunch nearby, having bribed the restaurateur a few hours earlier to “greet him like a regular to impress his guest.” She made little quote marks in the air with her fingers.
“Carry on,” said Bernard gently.
“After lunch they walked to his house for a swim in the pool. Except it’s not his house, it’s Monsieur Bisset’s house. Somehow Oliver Harrison had discovered that the staff had been given the day off, and it looks as though he broke in to use the pool, stole a classic sports car to impress Mary, and then drove her back to Hôtel d’Eau Bleue in it.”
“That must be Claude Bisset’s house. I’ve known him for years; we’re old friends. Think he’s in Paris at the moment.”
“Yes he is, or so I’ve been told.”
“Long story, but he and I met in another life, before I moved to France. Claude’s a smart man – very private.”
“That call just now was from a young man called Sylvan, who works for Monsieur Bisset. I asked him to call me if they heard any more from the police.”
“Hang on a minute, press the pause button, you’ve missed out a great chunk. What do you mean, you asked him to call you if they heard any more from the police? I’m confused, how do you know him?”
“Ah, slightly embarrassing – I went to the house.” Sophia looked sheepish. “The restaurateur told me there’s only one property along the footpath, Monsieur Bisset’s house, so I decided to find the footpath and walk along it to have a look for myself …”
“To trespass!” stated Bernard, with a deadpan expression.
Sophia glanced at him uncomfortably. “Um, yes.”
“So technically, you were breaking the law.”
“Well, technically yes, sort of but not really – only to help my friend, because I’m so desperately worried about her.”
Bernard’s mouth twitched at the corners, as if trying to conceal his amusement.
“Carry on,” he said, “back to your trespassing …”
“When I was walking round the garden, looking for someone to help me, I stumbled across Sylvan in the pool house with one of the maids. I caught them, um …”
“On the job?” Bernard suggested helpfully.
“Yes, on the job! I just turned up on the spur of the moment. I hadn’t made a plan or anything, totally unprepared, so I panicked and pretended to be a manageress called Mary Pembroke.” Pausing to look through her lashes at Bernard’s expression, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking.
“I said I was there to do a spot check on behalf of the owner’s office in Paris. Sylvan mentioned the break-in and the stolen car, so I asked him to call me if they heard any more from the police.“
“Why did you call yourself Mary Pembroke?”
Sophia blushed. “Don’t know really. As I said before, I hadn’t made any plan in advance, the words just came tumbling out of my mouth. A knee-jerk reaction ruled by gut instinct because I don’t trust Oliver Harrison, and didn’t want anyone to know my real name – does that sound silly?”
“I take it the police have been to take fingerprints and statements.”
“Yes, both. But Sylvan didn’t mention anything to them about me. The maid he was with, her mother’s very ill so she can’t afford to lose her job. They’re frightened they might be sacked for shagging in the pool house, they’ve omitted to mention anything about me to anyone.”
“First things first, for god’s sake don’t tell Mary you suspect Oliver Harrison’s a crook. Imperative that we’re absolutely certain of the facts before we say anything to anyone. I’m expecting Bruno to call later this morning, with the results of the facial recognition check on that photo, sounds like he should cross reference the image with the fingerprints at Bisset’s place too.”
He paused to think briefly before continuing. “We need to find out more about this Harrison fellow. I believe everything you’ve said, and I think you’re right to be suspicious, but we need concrete evidence before the police can do anything. I’ll phone my old friend Claude Bisset this evening for a little chat.”
Pausing again to consider something else before he spoke.
“I might also have a word with a trusted friend in London, he’s had much more experience over the years with suspicious characters. How shall I put it? A London underworld boss, based in the East End, one of the most long-standing in his profession. Not someone to get on the wrong side of, but I’ve known him a long time, since my days in the clubs, and trust him implicitly. He’ll know, far better than me, how best to tackle this. He’s squared up to a fair few fraudsters in his time for fleecing middle-aged women out of their life savings.”
“Oh, but Oliver Harrison hasn’t fleeced Mary out of her life savings,” squawked Sophia, horrified that she might have misled him or exaggerated the facts.
“Not yet,” sighed Bernard, “but it’s only a matter of time.”
“Really? Oh God,” sighed Sophia, wrinkling her face as she bit her finger nail, then taking a deep breath for stamina and looking up at Bernard. “You don’t know what a relief it is to have someone to talk to about this. Thank you Bernard, I’m so grateful to you.”
“Sophia, heed my advice and take the rest of today off. Meet Mary and talk to her, but don’t divulge anything that you’ve learnt about this imposter. Take tomorrow off – that’s not a suggestion, it’s an order! The translator can postpone all meetings on site, not a problem. Far more important that you’re able to spend time with Mary and drive her to the airport tomorrow to collect her children. I’ll call you for an update later when I’ve made some phone calls, now go!”
A bag of nerves and anxiety, Sophia flopped into her car, barely able to think straight. Grabbing her phone and frantically scrolling through for Mary’s new number, it rang twice before going to the infuriating French message.
“Mary, we need to talk. Please call me when you get this.”
About to put her phone back in her bag, when she changed her mind. None of her voicemails had got any response from Mary lately, belt and braces, she would send a text as well:
Meet me 7pm at hotel for chat over supper.
Want to help you my friend.
Sophia X
Chapter 22
After her heart-to-heart with Bernard, the sense of relief improved Sophia’s mood no end. Arriving back at the hotel, she stopped at reception to ask if anyone had seen Mary Pembroke recently. Pernilla assured Sophia she’d seen her earlier. It was a relief to hear that Mary was all right.
Driving to the airport tomorrow would be a good chance to have a proper chat with her. One thing’s for sure, she would take Bernard’s advice and not to breathe a word about being suspicious. Also she would have to play the game tonight when she met Mary for supper, no point rocking the boat at this stage. Bernard was right, as usual – concrete evidence was vital. This evening she would have to be simply Mary’s friend and a good listener.
Her phone pinged to announce a text from Mary.
Sorry I’ve been so hard to get hold of. Thanks for your message about supper tonight, great idea, looking forward to catching up. See you at 7pm X
When Mary walked in, Sophia was sitting at the bar and did a double take.
“Blimey, you look glamorous!” she said, kissing her friend on t
he cheek.
“Like my new look? It’s called Being In Love!” teased Mary, giving a twirl.
“Golly, what a difference! You must have spent all day in the beauty salon!’
“Oi cheeky! Just my hair and nails, and a bit of new make-up. Had to buy some in Monte Carlo, stupidly left mine behind in the rush this morning.”
“And a new dress – suits you!”
Mary looked radiant and preened to perfection. Her nails had been lacquered bright red, her long mousy hair falling in glossy tousled waves. She wore flat gold sandals and a silk maxi dress. She looked fabulous and very South of France chic.
“We’ve got that nice little table in the garden again. I’ve ordered us a bottle of rosé, shall we go and sit at the table straightaway rather than here?”
“Good idea.”
The two friends ambled outside, putting all their worries to one side for a moment, jostling and nudging each other over a joke. Sophia took the bottle out of the ice bucket and poured two large glasses of wine, before raising her glass to Mary.
“To you, my friend! You look fabulous.”
“Thank you.” They chinked glasses and sipped their wine.
Sophia stepped straight in. “I’m so sorry we rowed.”
“Apology accepted. You took the news about Ollie a million times better than my children! Arthur said ‘he’s obviously a fucking dickhead’, Kitty slammed the phone down on me, and Titty’s on the brink of yet another nervous breakdown.”
“It’s a good thing they’re joining us tomorrow, you’ll be able to keep an eye on them.”
Over-emotional from the drama of the last few days, Mary started welling up. “Sophia can I just say, you’re the best. Thank you so much for booking the children’s flights and arranging their accommodation with Bernard. None of that would’ve happened without your initiative, thank you. Seeing them all face to face tomorrow is bound to calm things down, and hopefully start to make everything better.”