Dangerous to Know

by Nell Dixon

  “It looks as if we left just in time,” Jerome remarked. The steely glint was back in his eye and his lips were thinned.

  “Why would Gerald go to these kinds of lengths?” Gemma kneaded her temples with her fingers as she tried to make sense of it all.

  “That’s what I’m asking myself. But the more I dig around, the more suspicious stuff I’m finding. I turned a file over to the fraud squad this morning that detailed some of Gerald’s activities.”

  “Do you think that might have been what the arsonists wanted to destroy? The evidence you’d found?”

  Jerome frowned. “Maybe.” He pulled up outside her front door.

  Gemma picked up her bag. “Come in and I’ll fix us some supper while you call your family.” She opened the car door.

  Jerome followed her to the house. “Gemma, this is very kind of you, but I’m worried I might be placing you in danger if I stay here.” His face looked troubled.

  “I don’t think Gerald will risk anything else. He waited till you were out of the cottage before the fire started. I think it was whatever you’d discovered that he was out to destroy, not you, yourself.”

  Jerome stepped into the hall behind her. “I need to make a lot of calls.”

  “Help yourself to the phone. I’ve pizza in the freezer, I’ll put the oven on while you use the phone.” She dropped her keys on to the hall table and took off her coat.

  “Thanks, Gemma.” He swept his hand through his hair. “I’m going to nail Gerald Shakespeare if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Don’t say things like that, even as a joke. Tonight was very scary. I don’t want-” She paused and licked lips that had dried with nerves.

  Jerome’s eyes darkened. “What don’t you want?”

  Her heart stilled. She couldn’t do this, not now. He’d just lost everything he owned in the world. Right now he needed her to be his friend, not someone who’d lay some heavy relationship stuff on him.

  “I don’t want anything else to happen. I know I said I wanted a more exciting life, but this is all a bit too exciting.” She edged away toward the door. “I’ll get the supper on.”

  Gemma scuttled inside the kitchen as if her life depended on it and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the wood and blew out a breath. She could hear Jerome moving around in the lounge, followed by the low murmur of his voice as he made his calls.

  She took her time pulling the pizza from the freezer and putting it in the oven. Fortunately, she had some salad stuff and a bottle of white wine in the fridge. If Jerome was about to be staying at her home, then she would need a little fortification.

  Once the small dinette table was set and the oven timer had pinged, she went through to the lounge to fetch Jerome. From the hunched set of his shoulders and the frown of concentration on his face she guessed the conversation must be important. He signaled to her to pass him a pen and pad.

  Gemma hurried across to a drawer and passed him what he needed. He took them from her and began to scribble illegible notes all over the page while he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. She wasn’t sure if she should stay or go, but then Jerome finished the conversation and replaced the handset.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I came to let you know that supper was ready.”

  He tore his page of notes from the pad and, after folding them, tucked them inside the breast pocket of his shirt.

  “That’s okay. I just had an interesting conversation with the guy I sent the computer files about Gerald to this morning.” Jerome leaned back on the sofa, spreading his arms expansively along the top. “I think we might have enough on him.”

  Gemma wished she could be as confident. She turned on the portable TV in her kitchen so they could watch the late news as they ate.

  “They got there fast,” Gemma remarked as a short video clip of the fire appeared.

  “The police said there’ll be an investigation of how it got started. From the speed of the blaze and the amount of damage they think someone broke in and spilled petrol over everything.” Jerome’s knuckles whitened around the handle of his fork.

  “At least you weren’t inside.” Her heart bumped painfully against her ribs. She couldn’t imagine how she would feel if he’d been injured. Or, even worse, killed. All because he’d stood up for something he believed in.

  “I called Nathalie and Evan. They promised to let everyone else know. I’m glad Mum and Dad are away at the moment.” He sighed and picked up his glass of wine.

  “What will you do for clothes and things?” Gemma asked as she used the remote to turn off the TV.

  “Evan’s going to drop off a bag tomorrow to tide me over until I can go shopping. Good job we’re the same size.”

  “Did you lose the car, too?” Gemma wondered if his beloved vehicle had gone up in flames along with the house.

  Jerome shook his head. “That was one good thing. When I borrowed Barnaby’s old heap I left my car at his place, so the garage at the cottage was empty.” He pushed his empty plate away with a sigh.

  Gemma picked up the crockery and carried it across to the dishwasher. “I’ll make up the bed in the spare room. I haven’t anything suitable for you to sleep in, though.”

  He grinned at her as her face burnt. “That’s okay, I don’t wear pajamas.”

  A picture of him wearing just a towel leapt into her head. “Very funny.”

  He picked up his empty glass and took it over to her. “I guess you might not have realized, but the more serious something is, the more I tend to joke around about it.” He stared into her eyes.

  She held her breath, wondering if his feelings for her were the same as hers for him.

  “Thank you for everything tonight, Gemma. You’re a good friend.”

  The air escaped from her lungs, leaving behind a sharp pain and a desolate feeling in its place.

  “You’re welcome.” She managed a false, tight smile and hurried from the room and up the stairs before her tears betrayed her heartbreak at being just his ‘friend’.

  Chapter Ten

  Gemma made up the bed in her spare room with fresh linen, and placed clean towels on the rail in his room. Jerome remained downstairs and she heard the deep rumble of his voice resume as he made more phone calls.

  Her tasks completed, she returned to her room and threw herself down on the duvet. While her hands had been busy she had succeeded in holding back her tears. Now she was safe in the comforting familiarity of her room, she allowed them to fall unchecked.

  The cold terror that clutched at her heart earlier in the evening found its release at last. Eventually, she sat upright and, still sniffing, she pulled fresh tissues from the box on the dresser. Her face appeared blotchy and red in the wardrobe mirror.

  Gemma brushed her hair and removed the remains of the make-up she’d applied so carefully earlier in the evening. She changed into her pajamas and dressing gown, knotting the belt tight before heading back downstairs to tell Jerome his room was ready.

  The lounge was empty when she popped her head in; she found him in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil.

  “I was going to bring you a cup of tea.” He peered at her face. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine, just took my make-up off so my skin’s probably a bit blotchy.” She lifted the tea bags down from the shelf and dropped one into each of the mugs Jerome had put ready.

  He raised an eyebrow as if he didn’t quite believe her, but didn’t challenge her response.

  “I came down to say your room’s all ready. I’m going to grab an early night.” Gemma collected the milk from the fridge as Jerome poured the boiling water on to the tea bags.

  “Evan is coming over quite early tomorrow, so I’ll probably be gone when you get up.” He swished the tea around with a spoon before dropping the used bags into the bin.

  “Do you need a key?” She wasn’t certain if he meant he was leaving to stay with Nathalie or if he just had to go somewhere early and would then be
back.

  “Evan and Nathalie have offered to put me up.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Part of her was disappointed that he would only be staying for a night. “You know you’re welcome here for as long as you want to stay.”

  “If you mean that, I’d like to take you up on it.” He stirred his tea with a thoughtful expression on his face. “When I spoke to Evan again just now, he’d already fielded half a dozen calls from the press. It would make life very difficult for Tali and Polly, especially if the press decide to focus in on them.”

  Gemma understood only too well what he meant. Polly’s birth mother was a well-known model and actress who liked nothing better than attempting to stir up problems for Evan and Nathalie.

  “I’ve a spare key to the front door in that pot over there.” She pointed out a brightly painted flowerpot on the kitchen windowsill. “Take it with you tomorrow. The press aren’t likely to bother you here, since they don’t know me.”

  “I promise this will all be settled after the debate on Saturday night.” Jerome’s voice was sombre.

  “Can you tell me what’s going to happen?” She felt certain he had something planned.

  “I can’t yet. You’ll have to trust me.” His clear blue eyes met hers and sweet reassurance surged through her.

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded husky. “I’ll see you tomorrow sometime, then?” She picked up her tea.

  “Goodnight, Gemma.”

  He made no move toward her like he usually did. No attempt to touch her hair or kiss her. The pain she’d felt earlier redoubled.

  * * * *

  She didn’t hear him leave the house in the morning. She’d slept so badly she couldn’t understand how she could have missed him going, but she had.

  Nathalie was already at the shop when she arrived. “Oh, Gemma, tell me everything. I’ve been so worried and Evan keeps trying to minimize things. You know how protective he is!” She pulled Gemma into the stock room.

  Gemma told her about the blaze. “I don’t where he had to go this morning, though. Evan collected him and from the way he spoke last night I think it’s to do with Gerald and this evidence Jerome’s dug up on him.”

  Nathalie sighed and drummed her fingers on the counter top. “I wanted him to stay with us, but he thought it might cause problems for Polly. I’m glad he’s with you, though. I wish this debate business was over and done with. Do you think Gerald Shakespeare is behind the fire?” Worry lines creased her forehead as she looked at Gemma.

  “I can’t think of anyone else, but it seems like a stupid thing for a prominent businessman to do.”

  “Well, I don’t suppose he did it himself. From what Evan told me, that wouldn’t be his style. I expect he’ll have a nice water-tight alibi all nice and pat for when the police go calling.”

  Gemma knew what she meant. She had a horrible feeling that Nathalie was right. All she could do was cling to the memory of Jerome gazing into her eyes and assuring her that everything would be all right.

  The day didn’t improve; there was no word from Evan or Jerome. At lunchtime, the seamstress who came to make the alterations to the bridal gowns brought the afternoon edition of the local paper.

  Dramatic pictures of the blaze and interviews with the head of the fire service and the investigating officer covered the front page. More shocking for Gemma was the interview on the inside cover with Gerald Shakespeare.

  “Some people will go to any lengths to attract publicity for a cause. While it wouldn’t be for me to suggest impropriety of any part by Mr. Mayer, I’m certain the police will be exploring all avenues as part of their investigation.” Gemma read the offending quote out loud for Nathalie’s benefit.

  “Can you believe the nerve of the man?” Nathalie shook her head in outrage.

  “Sounds like he’s trying to deflect the police attention away from himself,” Gemma mused.

  “Or trying to pin the blaze on Jerome to make it look as if he’s the one who’s dishonest.”

  By the time she left for home, her spirits were as damp and deflated as the cold early evening mist that curled around her as she unlocked her front door. She switched on the lights and hung up her coat before walking into the kitchen.

  A folded sheet of paper with her name on was next to the kettle. She opened it to see Jerome’s untidy black scrawl.

  Might not be back till late, don’t wait up for me.

  Gemma crumpled the note and dropped it in the rubbish bin.

  She fixed herself some supper and wandered into the living room with her plate. Jerome’s sweater lay where he’d left it on the sofa and his empty coffee mug stood on the table. Gemma sat down with her food and flicked on the TV.

  A reporter broadcasting a segment from the Scottish site Gerald Shakespeare had developed quickly piqued her interest. From the report that followed it became clear to Gemma that it wasn’t only Jerome who’d sniffed out something underhand about Shakespeare Industries’ business practices.

  She clicked the TV off an hour later with half of her supper congealing uneaten on her plate. Gerald must have set fire to Jerome’s house in desperation. He had to know the net had started to close in around him.

  She stretched out her hand to stroke Jerome’s sweater. Touching the soft male scented fabric made her feel closer to him. The sooner the debate was over, the better. Who knew what Gerald might be capable of if his empire came tumbling down? Maybe the police would be able to arrest him and Jerome would be safe.

  Then Jerome would go back to his life and she would go back to– what? Her nice safe job at the bridal shop, going to the gym every Tuesday and visiting her mother every second Saturday.

  Gemma had to face facts. She’d blown it with Jerome. She was the one who had wanted to be friends because she had been afraid to trust her heart. The misery she felt now was entirely her own making. Even if he hadn’t offered her anything more than a brief affair, who knew where that would have led?

  In her heart she sensed that she had meant more to him than that and perhaps, given a chance, the embers of love would have been fanned into a warm and sustaining flame. Instead they had flickered and been snuffed out before even having a chance to take hold.

  * * * *

  Jerome’s bedroom door was still ajar when she woke in the morning. He hadn’t made it home. When she reached the shop, Nathalie told her Evan hadn’t returned either. Instead, he’d called to say they had gone off to the Lake District early and would be there until after the debate.

  “Did they tell you anything else?” Gemma asked.

  Nathalie shook her head. “Only that we weren’t to worry.” She rolled her eyes. “As if that’s likely.”

  Gemma wished Jerome had called her. The fact that he hadn’t underlined even more clearly her status in his life.

  “Are you going to go to the debate?” Nathalie’s question broke into her thoughts.

  “I don’t think so. I’ll watch it on TV.”

  Nathalie raised her eyebrows but refrained from commenting on Gemma’s decision.

  * * * *

  By the time the day of the debate dawned, Gemma was a bundle of nerves. She hadn’t heard anything directly from Jerome since he’d left and Nathalie had only received snatched calls from Evan.

  By mid-morning her head ached with the tension of not knowing how Jerome was.

  “You should be there.” Nathalie’s comment startled her as she priced the bridal shoes.

  “It’s too late.” Why hadn’t she accepted his invitation to attend the debate in the first place?

  “Rubbish!”

  Gemma looked up, surprised by the force in her friend’s voice.

  “If you love my brother half as much as I think you do, take my car and go to him.” Nathalie slid her keys across the shop counter.

  “But I’ll never get in.” Hope flooded into her heart even as she protested at Nathalie’s suggestion.

  “I’ll get hold of Evan somehow and tell him you’re on your way.” Her f
riend held her gaze.

  Gemma snatched up the keys and hugged her tight. She felt too emotional to put her feelings into words.

  Nathalie’s car was parked in front of the shop. Gemma grabbed her coat from the staff room and after giving her another hug, she set off for the Lakes.

  She forced herself to focus on the traffic as she set off along the motorway. Her nerves jangled as she took the turn into the heart of the Lake District. She didn’t even know if Jerome would want to see her.

  The police had closed some of the roads around the town hall where the debate was to be held. Crowds of people walked toward the town centre. Gemma could see she would have to travel the rest of the way on foot.

  She abandoned Nathalie’s car on a double yellow line and hoped her friend would forgive her if it got towed. Her pulse sounded like thunder in her ears as she tried to jostle her way through the throngs of people outside the hall.

  “Ticket, please.” A burly man in a security vest halted her at the door with a hand on her shoulder.

  “Please, I haven’t a ticket. Call Evan Davies, he’ll vouch for me.” She held her breath and prayed he’d believe her.

  The man hesitated, then pulled a walkie-talkie from a shoulder holster. “What’s your name?”

  “Gemma. Gemma Andrews.” She bit her lip while he checked her out.

  “Wait here. He’ll come and get you.”

  The minutes felt like hours until Evan emerged from a small side door and beckoned her to follow him.

  “Tali lent me her car and I raced to get here, but I had to leave it on some double yellow lines because there were no parking spaces left and-”

  “Whoa. It’s okay, what matters is that you’re here. The place is heaving. I’ve found a space for you at the back of the hall.”

  Gemma followed him along a narrow corridor, picking her way over the electric cables that twisted like snakes across the floor.

  “How’s Jerome?”

  “Ask him yourself. You’ve got about five minutes before we go on air.”