by Susan Lewis
On reaching the front of the cabin she cast a sultry glance over her shoulder, but the man at the back wasn’t watching. What the hell? She wasn’t that interested anyway. So after checking with a stewardess that it was all right to go into first class to say hello to some friends, she stepped in under the curtain.
The Gatlings’ ten-thousand-dollar seats were in the second row. Marcus, who was closest to the window, was studying the finance pages of the Wall Street Journal, while Leonora appeared to be midway through Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin. It didn’t surprise her to find them awake, for she couldn’t imagine them ever sleeping.
‘Hello, Leonora,’ she said. The drone of the plane’s engines might have drowned her voice, but someone stopping alongside them got both Gatlings’ attention.
Leonora frowned. ‘Beth?’ she said. ‘Is that you? My, how different you look.’
‘Thank you,’ she smiled, taking it as a compliment. ‘How are you?’
‘Very well. How are you? What takes you to LA?’
She chuckled. ‘Oh, I’m sure you know,’ she responded.
Leonora looked surprised, and glanced briefly at her husband. ‘Why would I know?’ she asked.
Ava merely looked at her, smiling.
Leonora seemed baffled. ‘Are you all right, dear?’ she asked.
‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’
Again Leonora glanced at Marcus.
‘Uh, how’s Colin?’ Gatling asked gruffly.
Ava looked at him. ‘Colin who?’ she politely enquired.
Leonora blinked, then apparently amused, she laughed. ‘You seem to be in rather an unusual mood, my dear,’ she commented. ‘Maybe it’s this new look of yours.’
‘Maybe it is,’ Ava responded, frowning as though the thought had only just occurred to her. Then brightening again, she said, ‘So what takes you to LA?’
‘We have business in Santa Barbara,’ Leonora answered. ‘Do you know it?’
Ava shook her head. ‘Such a coincidence, isn’t it, us being on the same flight?’
‘Isn’t it?’ Leonora agreed.
Ava waited for her to say more.
Leonora wasn’t easily discomfited and she showed no signs of it now, though she was the first to break the impasse. ‘I read in the paper that you’ve written a book,’ she said. ‘When will we have the pleasure of reading it?’
Ava looked her straight in the eyes. ‘You mean you haven’t already?’ she said.
Again Leonora frowned. ‘Is it out?’ she asked.
Ava laughed. ‘Very good,’ she commended. ‘Very good indeed.’
Brushing over that, Leonora said, ‘Has Colin read it, by any chance?’
‘Yes. He didn’t understand it either.’
The ‘either’ hung there, as heavily as the implication, until Leonora said casually, ‘What exactly didn’t he understand?’
‘The murder.’
Leonora’s eyebrows went up. ‘Why? Is there something difficult about it?’ she asked.
‘I wouldn’t say difficult. More, allusive.’
‘To what, exactly?’
‘Oh no,’ Ava laughed, ‘I can’t tell you that, it would be cheating. You have to read it first.’
Leonora’s eyes were sharp as razors.
Ava continued to smile.
‘Well, do enjoy the rest of the flight,’ Leonora said, returning to her book.
Ava remained where she was, moving her eyes to Gatling.
‘I hear Colin’s trial has been delayed,’ he said, the overhead lights glinting in the moisture on his lips.
‘Has it?’ Ava replied. ‘Ah, that’ll be because of the evidence they’ve found that throws some doubt on who actually did it.’
Gatling’s face darkened, as the air around them seemed suddenly to load with tension. ‘What evidence?’ he said.
Ava glanced down at Leonora, knowing full well that her ears were as alert as a rodent’s. ‘I’m not entirely sure,’ she answered, wondering whether to mention the mysterious fibres, which they would already know about, or if it might be more entertaining to invent something new. In the end, she decided just to leave them guessing.
‘Your games are a little tiresome,’ Leonora remarked, turning a page, ‘so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your seat …’
Ava’s eyes flashed, but her temper was under control. ‘I’ll go when I’m ready,’ she told her.
At that Leonora seemed genuinely surprised. ‘We would like to be left alone now,’ she said, smoothing her annoyance with burred, velvety tones.
‘Yes, so would I,’ Ava responded.
Leonora appeared confused. ‘Beth, what on earth has got into you?’ she demanded. ‘Have you been drinking?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact. I do a lot of it now, since my husband was arrested for murder.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, I understand it must be very stressful,’ Leonora replied, looking around to see who was listening. ‘But there’s really nothing –’
‘You said, if I ever felt the need to talk …’
‘But not here, dear. Really, it’s hardly appropriate.’
‘Then where? Sophie Long’s flat?’ Her eyes were glittering with menace.
Leonora’s face was scarlet. ‘Heavens above,’ she muttered, looking around for an attendant.
Gatling was watching Ava closely, his steely eyes as lethal as bullets. ‘Colin killed that girl and we both know it,’ he said, pitching his voice so only she could hear. ‘Now, if I were you, I’d go and sit down before –’
‘Madam, please return to your seat,’ a steward was saying as he tried to take her arm.
Ava shrugged him off. ‘What we both know,’ she said to Gatling, ‘is that you’re scared witless over this, and –’
‘Madam, please,’ the steward interrupted, taking hold of her more firmly. ‘You’re bothering other passengers …’
‘And I can’t promise,’ Ava shouted, as he dragged her away, ‘that your secret’s going to stay safe with me.’
At the end of the aisle she wrenched herself out of the steward’s grip and staggered back to her seat.
She was shaking with fury and shock. She hadn’t expected to erupt the way she had at the end, and now she was afraid of what she’d said. They were dangerous people, much too dangerous to play around with like that, so what had got into her? Why hadn’t she just given in to the sexual urges, instead of throwing herself straight into the lions’ den, as though her new blonde hair and a bit of Dutch courage were enough to take on the whole damned pride. She obviously had some kind of death wish. What would Colin say if he knew? What would he do? She had to pull herself together. She needed another drink.
An attendant brought one. She had just taken a sip, when the man from behind leant down to speak in her ear. She didn’t even look at him as she got up. Yes, she’d care to take her drink over to his seat. Yes, he could get her another. And while they waited perhaps he’d like to escort her to the bathroom.
The space was ridiculously small, though quite conducive to what he had in mind, once he’d stripped off her T-shirt and finished biting and sucking her nipples.
She laughed when he suggested it, then laughed and laughed. ‘Oh no, no, no,’ she told him, looking up into his vaguely handsome, though florid face. ‘It’s you, my friend, who’s going into the prayer position, not I.’
His eyebrows immediately went up, but she could see he was turned on by her manner, and, after she’d removed her trousers and panties, he dropped meekly to his knees, putting his mouth at just the right level.
She parted her legs readily then gave an audible sigh of pleasure as his tongue found her. Colin had always been an expert at this, but Ava wasn’t thinking about Colin. She was thinking only of herself. How easy it had been to assume control. And this time she wasn’t going to let it go. Oh no, she was in charge here, not Beth, or Colin, so now her new friend could just get up off the floor and penetrate her from behind.
He was happ
y to oblige, but she wasn’t interested in his happiness. All she cared about was the inner struggle with Beth that this time she was easily winning. She was allowing this man to plunge into Colin’s private territory and Beth wasn’t putting up as much as a murmur. Ava was exultant. She could do this. She could break free of Beth. She’d just stood up to the Gatlings, and now she was making this man pump with all his might because she wanted to come. And minutes later she did, while watching her face in the mirror. It was Ava’s face, that only looked like Beth’s as she started to come down from the high. But Beth was back home in England, while Ava was the one heading fast for LA.
*
‘OK, yes, I’m still here,’ Laurie said into the phone, while stuffing her purse and notebook into her backpack and hunting for her keys. ‘What time is it over there?’
‘Ten past five,’ Elliot answered.
‘In the morning? Have you turned nocturnal? Who was just calling you at ten past five in the morning?’
‘Liam, from Paris. He was trying to reach you, but your line was tied up.’
‘Talking to you. OK, so where were we? Yes, the News of the World ran the Brad Pinkton story yesterday. Gail and I called the fall guys on Saturday to warn them what was coming, but there were a couple of names we weren’t expecting so there was no tip-off for them. So now we have a scandalized nation, a few more disgraced politicians, and Sophie Long’s mother breathing fire and fury down the phone at Murray, trying to get hold of you or me.’
‘You think she genuinely didn’t know her daughter was on the game?’ Elliot said incredulously.
‘You heard the tape,’ she reminded him, turning off the radio and sliding closed the window. ‘Actually, I think she might have guessed, but the last thing she’d want is the whole world knowing, as they now do – which reminds me, when I speak to her I’m going to plead ignorance. It’s just too horrible for her to think that all the time we were talking I knew and pretended not to.’
‘Sounds reasonable,’ he responded. ‘What’s on your agenda today?’
‘Actually, I’m going into the office to check I still have a job, and I might pop over to Morton Shields to try and ambush Philip Buck. What did Liam want, by the way?’
‘From me, a telephone number. From you, a call back.’
‘OK. Sandra Chettle left a message on my mobile last night.’
‘The other of Ashby’s contacts? What did she say?’
‘Just that she was returning my call. With any luck she’ll try again. I left a message on her voice mail about an hour ago.’
‘Sounds hopeful.’
‘Could be,’ Laurie responded. Then as he told her what had been happening so far in New York, which didn’t amount to much more than a few phone calls, as he’d only arrived on Saturday and Monday had barely begun, she shrugged on her backpack, picked up her borrowed laptop, sunglasses and keys, made sure the cat was in, and all was locked, then started downstairs to the front door.
‘I’m seeing Tom Maykin at twelve,’ Elliot said. ‘There are a few others I’ve arranged to meet while I’m here too, and there’s a chance I might pop down to Washington. I should be back on Friday. Saturday at the latest. Has Bruce Cottle come back with an answer from his wife yet?’
‘Not that I know of. I’ll call him later. Beth Ashby must be in LA by now.’
‘As Ava Montgomery. I might see if Tom Maykin’s got someone out there who can keep an eye on her.’
‘Good thinking.’
‘OK. That’s it,’ he said abruptly. ‘Have a good day, as they say over here,’ and the line went dead.
‘Bye,’ she responded, then, clicking off the phone, she slammed the front door, double-locked it and started across the road towards the cut-through in the snazzy new apartment complex that would take her down to the river walk. From there she’d stroll along to the office, stopping off to get herself a coffee and Danish, and, considering how buoyant this non-stop sunshine was making her feel, she might just kick up her heels and have a dance on the way.
She’d just reached the narrow blue house that some said marked where the fire of London had stopped, when she suddenly remembered Stan. Swinging round, she spotted him outside The Grapes, just starting up his engine, intending to follow. Waving for him to stay put, she trotted back along the cobbled street, swerving to avoid the handsome thespian knight who lived in one of the protected Queen Annes, scooted round Bootle’s blackboard where the chef was chalking up today’s lunchtime specials, then finally stopped to pet Truffles, the Rich Old Lady’s chocolate lab, whose leg was cocked against Stan’s front wheel.
‘Morning,’ she beamed in through his window.
‘Morning,’ he responded, his alarmingly bullish features cracking in a six-tooth smile. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Great. I’m going to walk along the river, so I’ll meet you outside the office. Shall I get you a coffee at Frescos?’
‘Double Espresso, plenty of sugar.’
‘Food?’
‘I’m on a diet.’
Laughing, she started back down the street, paused to rebunch her hair into its band, and had just reached the cut-through in the flats when she heard someone calling her name.
Surprised, she turned round, and might have overlooked the Mercedes parked on the other side of the road, had the woman in the driver’s seat not called out again.
‘Are you Laurie Forbes?’ she asked.
Laurie nodded. The woman’s face didn’t look familiar, but there was something about the anxiety in her middle-aged features, and the neatness of her bobbed brown hair and gold-rimmed glasses, that inspired nothing more than concern and curiosity.
‘I’m Sandra Chettle,’ she said as Laurie drew close. ‘You want to talk?’
‘Yes, very much,’ Laurie responded. ‘How did you find me?’
‘I called your editor. I had to make sure you were who you said you were. We need to go somewhere private. Are you free to come now?’
Laurie’s hesitation was only momentary. She hadn’t actually told Wilbur she was coming in today so he was hardly going to complain if she didn’t turn up. ‘Where are we going?’ she said, getting into the passenger seat.
‘Actually, it’s a little way out of London. There’s something I want to show you. It should make a lot of things clear.’
‘I’m intrigued,’ Laurie responded, fastening her seat belt as they started down the street. When they passed Stan she waved and gave him the thumbs-up, letting him know it was all right. ‘I got your message last night,’ she told Sandra. ‘I was hoping you’d call again.’
‘I thought it was better to come in person,’ Sandra responded. ‘There’s a lot you need to know, and it’s not a good idea for me to be seen or overheard talking to you.’
Laurie’s mobile rang. Digging it out of her bag she checked the caller ID, saw it was Stan and switched on. ‘It’s OK,’ she told him. ‘It’s Sandra Chettle.’
‘Is her name on my list?’
‘It should be.’
Sandra glanced over at her, frowning.
‘Just my minder keeping tabs,’ Laurie assured her, putting the phone away.
Sandra’s eyes returned to the road. ‘Do you need one?’ she asked.
‘Not really. It’s a long story.’
For the next few minutes they exchanged platitudes about the weather and traffic until, sensing her silence might be more appreciated, Laurie turned to look out of the window. She didn’t mind; it was a good opportunity to clear her head and start structuring the many questions she needed to ask.
After a while she took out a notepad and began jotting things down, wanting to make sure she left nothing out. Then her mobile rang again. This time the ID showed a number she didn’t know.
‘It’s Liam. I’m coming back on the four o’clock flight,’ he told her. ‘We all need to meet.’
Laurie’s heart gave a skip of excitement. ‘Does that mean you’ve turned something up?’ she said.
‘Poss
ibly. Murray’s calling in Sam deBugger tonight, so we’ll make it for nine in the morning. At the office.’
‘Can you tell me anything now?’
‘Just that a couple of the people I’ve been talking to were responsible for the initial investigation into the ex-minister who’s currently on trial. They’ve been working on uncovering the corruption for nearly three years, and some of the names we compared matched. There’s more, I’ll fill you in tomorrow.’
‘Great,’ she said, and rang off.
‘Something interesting?’ Sandra enquired.
‘Maybe. It’s connected to this, so I’m hoping whatever you’re about to show me is going to move it even further along.’
‘I’m sure it will,’ Sandra responded.
Laurie looked out at the passing fields, hedgerows and scattered farms. They’d been travelling for quite some time now, and they were definitely out of London, so just how far out did they need to go?
‘Not much further,’ Sandra informed her, as though reading her mind.
‘Maybe I could starting asking some questions?’
‘I’d rather you waited. You’ll understand why when we get there.’
They drove on, through towns and villages, more countryside, passing signposts that directed them to places Laurie had never even heard of. Were they in Essex, she wondered. Or had they crossed over into Suffolk? It wasn’t a part of the country she knew, so it would all seem the same to her. In fact, she was starting to become vaguely uneasy now, and hoped Stan was managing to keep up, presuming he was there at all, after she’d told him it was all right.
This was ridiculous, she was thinking. Being too polite to ask again where they were going was like being too polite to exist. She had a right to know, and what was more, she was going to.
This time Sandra Chettle didn’t answer.
Unsettled, and starting to get annoyed, Laurie was about to demand a reply when her mobile rang again.
‘Laurie? It’s Stan,’ he said quietly. ‘Don’t say my name. Don’t say anything yet, just make out I’m Elliot, or Rhona or someone. Nice and easy. Keep it casual.’