‘I’m hearing you.’ He lowered his voice to match hers. ‘But that’s all pretty vague, Lyns. You need to give me more than that.’
Lynsey glanced over her shoulder again to check they weren’t being overheard. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, ‘I think there’s truth to the rumours and conjecture flying around town. My father and Yasmin have contributed to the problems at the mill. There’s more to it than just the drought.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I just am.’
He stared at her for a full ten seconds then pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘I’m sorry, Lynsey, that’s not good enough.’
‘What?’ She looked up at him, dismayed that he didn’t seem to be taking her warning seriously. ‘Where are you going?’
‘My car’s out the front. Come on, grab your coffee. We’ll go somewhere private where we can talk properly.’
Chapter Thirteen
Julian pulled the Land Cruiser into the kerb near Mindalby Park and cut the engine. In the distance, a council worker manoeuvred a wheelbarrow around recently tilled garden beds. Over by the children’s playground a mother was wrestling a young child into a stroller.
‘Everything’s so quiet,’ Lynsey said as they unbuckled their seatbelts. ‘It’s like the town has died already.’
‘The town’s in shock.’ Julian shifted his hips, angling his body so he didn’t have to turn his head to look at her. ‘People retreat to hearth and home in times of crisis. They’ll lick their wounds then re-emerge ready to fight, you wait and see.’
She gave him a sad smile like the ones she used to give him in high school. The ones that told him she was hurting. ‘You always were a glass-half-full kind of guy, Julian, but I think it’s the end of the road for the mill.’
Contingency plans flashed in his mind. If the mill closed he’d have to leave the ethanol plant to crumble into ruins while he set up a second depot in a regional city. Somewhere like Dubbo. He’d have to borrow money to buy more tankers, but he’d be able to service a wider area of New South Wales. Expanding his core business was the only way he could trade out of trouble if Mindalby’s major employer went down the gurgler.
‘Tell me what’s going on, Lyns.’
She didn’t look at him, just stared straight ahead into the park. ‘Mum kept some old records Dad used to have in the study at home. David Gresham, the administrator guy, called over and asked if any records were kept at the house. Mum told him no, but when he left she told me there were things in the storage unit where she keeps the extra stuff for the shop. I went over there yesterday and had a look through it.’
So that’s where she’d been. He recalled the dirt on her face and the cobweb caught in her hair when she’d arrived back at the house. ‘I saw some files in the car when I went to get your handbag. Some kind of jewellery certificate fell on the floor. I thought it was something belonging to your mother.’
‘It’s Yasmin’s, bought with company money before Dad even left home. I went around to the house this morning. The ring’s in her jewellery box and there’s a Pro Hart hanging on the wall—also bought with company money.’
‘You know she’s up on fraud charges for ripping off people in the city?’
Lynsey nodded. ‘This sounds mean, but I was hoping the problem with the mill’s finances would turn out to be her fault. But from what I’ve seen, my father’s been complicit in all of it.’
Julian gave a low whistle. He’d heard the rumours but had kept an open mind, unsure if there was any basis to them or if people were just looking for someone to blame.
‘I was wondering why Yasmin left all that stuff behind. Maybe she didn’t want to get caught with the evidence.’
‘That’s not how it works, Lyns. When you get arrested, you’re taken into custody right away. She wouldn’t have had time to move or hide anything.’
‘Of course. You’re right. I’m not thinking straight.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ It was a lot to take in.
‘It gets worse, Julian. When I charged up an old laptop, there were emails requesting information about how to set up bank accounts in Bermuda.’
‘Jesus. Did your mother know about this back then?’
Lynsey shook her head and a whiff of coconut shampoo drifted towards him. Despite the seriousness of their conversation Julian latched onto it like a bloodhound and drew the perfume deep into his lungs.
‘She’s never had anything to do with the mill. Storing my dad’s stuff was personal. She’d asked him to pick up his clothes and take away his things that were in the study. It was Mum’s house and she wanted to use the room to rotate her winter and summer stock. In the end, she gave his clothes to charity and put the laptop and business records in the storage unit.’
Julian rested an elbow on the steering wheel. ‘I don’t get it. You’d think Don would have guarded incriminating stuff like that with his life.’
‘He didn’t know we still had it until I told him this morning.’
‘What? Where the hell did he think it was?’
‘Gone a dozen years ago. When he finally turned up to collect it Mum told him she’d taken it to the dump.’
Julian raised his eyebrows. ‘I bet that went down well.’
‘Apparently he and Mum were furious at each other.’ Lynsey shrugged. ‘I was at school when it happened.’
Julian thought of Donald Carter turning up at the house, only to be told by his mild- mannered wife that all his business records were gone. ‘Good on Veronica. Getting some of her own back.’
‘That’s how I feel, and he has no one to blame but himself. He’s always been complacent.’
‘Maybe it’s because he was handed the mill on a platter. You know … people who never have to work for anything.’
Her eyes cut to his. ‘You mean like me?’
‘I didn’t say that, Lyns.’
‘I know you didn’t. I’m sorry, Julian. It’s all such a mess.’ She raised a hand and rubbed it across her forehead as if to ease away a headache.
Julian said nothing, just sat there absorbing the shock waves as they rolled over him. Don Carter’s actions had put Lynsey in a terrible position, and he didn’t envy the choices she had ahead of her. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.
‘Tell Mum what I’ve found. She’s fitting a lady with a mother-of-the-bride outfit at the moment. That’s why I went into Joe’s, to kill some time and to show my face.’
‘That was brave considering the sentiment in town.’
Her red-rimmed eyes flashed with determination. ‘I’m not hiding like my father. I’ve done nothing wrong. If it was up to me I’d hand everything over now, but I think Mum should be consulted about it first.’
‘Because it’s her property?’
‘Strictly, it’s Dad’s. He demanded I return it too but I told him it was now the property of the administrator and the police. He looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, and then he warned me and Mum not to hand it over.’ Lynsey’s voice cracked a little. ‘That really shocked me. To think we mean so little to him.’
Julian reached out and covered her hand with his own. Against his palm her skin was satin smooth, her fingers cool and unadorned. ‘I don’t think you should have told him, Lyns. Who knows what he’ll do.’
‘I’m not scared of him. Dreadfully ashamed, but not scared.’
‘Good.’ He started to withdraw his hand before he embarrassed her within the intimacy of the car, but her fingers closed around his and she held on tight.
Julian’s breath caught in his throat and his heart began to pound. Lynsey’s eyes burned into his as he threaded his fingers through hers.
‘I’m sorry I doubted you yesterday,’ she said, staring down at their interlocked hands. ‘I was in denial. I couldn’t believe my father was capable of such things.’ She shook her head as though to clear her thoughts then slowly raised her eyes to his. ‘At least I know what motivated him now. He and Yasmin never wanted me at the mill
because there was a chance I could have uncovered their fraud.’
‘That makes sense.’ He raised her hand and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, pleased when a small sigh escaped her lips. ‘I’m just happy you don’t hate me anymore.’
‘I could never hate you, Julian. I realised that when Willow told me you were dating Caprice Newton. I want you to be happy.’
Fuck.
Julian froze and his blood turned to liquid nitrogen in his veins. His mind was so full of Lynsey he’d forgotten all about Caprice, and it wasn’t like him to lose his head like that.
‘We’re not exclusive or anything. We’re just having a bit of fun.’ He watched as Lynsey gently withdrew her hand, worrying now what she must think of him—this girl who still responded to him and yet was happy he was dating someone else.
Working his heart rate down, Julian straightened in his seat and rested his hands on the wheel, only to groan aloud when he noticed the time.
‘Damn! I’m due at the bank in two minutes.’
Chapter Fourteen
Friday afternoon was one of the busiest times at the storage units, and while Lynsey believed in safety in numbers she couldn’t shake off the feeling she and her mother were being watched.
Veronica Carter had gone on the offensive the minute Lynsey told her what she’d discovered in the crates. She’d turned off the shop lights, put the ‘Closed’ sign on the door and called her lawyer, Penny Fordham. ‘That’s what you do in these situations,’ she told Lynsey. ‘You get good advice from people you trust.’
Penny’s advice had been to collect the remaining crates, take them home and make an inventory of everything. Once that was done, Lynsey was to forward the inventory to Penny. She would then draft a receipt for either David Gresham or Felicity Robinson to sign. This would happen at the time Lynsey and her mother handed everything over.
‘Thank you for tidying this up, Sweetheart.’
Lynsey wiped her brow on the sleeve of her denim shirt. She hadn’t intended to clean up, but the place was such a mess she’d found herself rearranging the eclectic assortment of shop fittings as she’d dragged out the crates. ‘That’s alright, Mum. You’ll have more room now and easier access.’
Her mother gave a rueful smile and slipped a dust cover over the bald mannequin with the cat’s-eye glasses. ‘It was one of those awful jobs I kept putting off. I must be getting lazy in my old age.’
‘As if!’ Lynsey patted her mother’s back then gave it a quick rub. ‘Come on, Mum, let’s head off. The sooner I get home and get this inventory done the better.’ She jangled the keys in front of her mother’s face. ‘You can drive. I wouldn’t want to give you a heart attack.’
Nervous tension gathered at the base of Lynsey’s neck as she rolled down the door and locked it. She stood for a moment with the passenger door open, scanning the complex like a soldier surveying enemy territory. She didn’t know who she expected to turn up—the driver of the black ute perhaps, or her father demanding they hand over the incriminating evidence now in their possession. Then there was the man who’d walked around the car the last time she was here, and desperate mill workers like Cody Nossiter and Burton Sims, eager to know the whereabouts of her father.
‘Are you still okay with this?’ she asked her mother when they were in the car. ‘No second thoughts?’
‘Lynsey, I’m fifty-seven years of age. I have a handful of good friends who I think will believe me when I tell them I had no knowledge of your father’s illegal activities. If I decide to tell them. I may not. I don’t feel I have to justify myself to anyone.’
Lynsey smiled a little. Now that was classic Veronica Carter.
‘I’m more worried about the effect this will have on your life,’ her mother said as they left the complex behind them. ‘You have your career in front of you and you’re yet to meet your life partner.’
‘You don’t have to worry about that, Mum. I’m not getting married. No offence, but I’d never sign up for what you’re going through.’
‘You wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t married your father.’
Lynsey grimaced. Shot down by her own mother.
‘There are no guarantees in life, there never are. You shouldn’t let my experience put you off. I’ve been unlucky … or maybe I just made a bad choice.’
‘Exactly. And you’re one of the smartest people I know.’
There was a long pause and then her mother spoke again. ‘If your father has squandered your inheritance to keep that awful woman happy then he’ll be lucky if I don’t brain him myself.’
‘It’s not just me, Mum, it’s the mill workers as well.’
‘I know that, but I’m talking about you right now. You’re supposed to be leaving to do your Masters in three months. Will this really affect your US visa application?’
‘It could.’ They’d brushed over the topic earlier. ‘The US consulate carry out stringent background checks. If there’s an investigation into the mill, and especially if they suspect a crime has taken place, then that would raise a red flag. It makes it worse that it’s a family business. They wouldn’t know how many of us knew about the scam or were involved in it. I’d be seen as a risk.’
Her mother’s hands tightened on the wheel. ‘Honestly, I’m livid about this.’
‘So are all those people.’ They were approaching the picket line. The scene was peaceful enough. Rugged up against the cold, the workers gripped placards between their gloved hands and huddled together in the last remaining patches of sunlight. Some workers had small children in tow.
Her mother turned her head a little. ‘Oh, dear God.’
‘Keep your eye on the road, Mum.’ Lynsey sat straighter as the car drifted sideways, praying the approaching traffic lights wouldn’t turn red. ‘Let’s just concentrate on getting home safely so I can do what I need to do.’
A short while later, they parked in the garage and carried the crates through to the house. While her mother drew the curtains and started getting dinner underway, Lynsey fetched the laptop and crates from her bedroom and began sorting everything into three piles. Incriminating evidence. General office files. Miscellaneous items.
She made good progress listing the things she’d discovered last night, but her pace slowed once she made a start on the crates they’d collected today. There was more of the same. Bank statements. Bills for weekends away— presumably spent with Yasmin. Files full of travel clippings. Photographs of luxury items snipped from the pages of glossy magazines.
By the time Lynsey stopped for dinner she was convinced Yasmin and her father had been living beyond their means for years. Serial over-spenders, they were addicted to an expensive lifestyle that even the mill couldn’t sustain in the end.
‘I’ll help you sort through the crates after I stack the dishwasher,’ her mother said as they sat at the island bench drinking their coffee.
Lynsey shook her head. ‘I’d rather you not see all this stuff, Mum. I told you this afternoon what I found.’
‘You’re probably right.’ Her mother began gathering their dinner plates. ‘Idiots! How on earth did they think they were going to get away with it?’
‘They could have gotten away with it if you hadn’t kept those crates.’
Her mother gave her an arch look. ‘I guess my tendency not to throw anything out has paid off in the end. I would have loved to have seen his expression though when you told him I still had it all.’
‘He looked positively murderous.’
Her mother’s spine stiffened. ‘Did he threaten you?’
‘It was more of a warning.’ Lynsey chose her words carefully. ‘He said we should think twice about handing it over. That was after he asked how much it would take to keep us quiet.’
Her mother let out a soft gasp. ‘Hush money?’
Lynsey nodded. ‘Pretty much.’
‘Oh, Lynsey, how awful. I can’t believe it.’
Alarmed at her mother’s ashen face, Lynsey slid off her st
ool and wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered, sounding a lot stronger than she felt. ‘We just need to keep telling the truth. And we need to stay out of Dad’s way until it’s over.’
***
By ten-forty the crates were empty and Lynsey had filled fifteen pages of her A4 pad. She stretched her fingers in an effort to ease the writer’s cramp. Then she picked up the phone and called Penny Fordham. ‘It’s done. I’ve written out the inventory in long hand. What’s the best way of getting it to you?’
‘Do you have a smart phone?’
‘Yes. It’s fifteen pages long though, Penny.’
‘That’s all right. Just photograph each sheet and attach them to an email. I’ll be in the office early tomorrow morning.’
‘Okay.’ Lynsey picked up her pen and took down Penny’s email address.
‘I spoke to David Gresham this afternoon too,’ Penny said. ‘He and Felicity Robinson can meet us at your mother’s shop at nine. I’ll have an Acknowledgement of Receipt typed up ready for them to sign. It will include the inventory of everything you’re handing over.’
Lynsey turned and smiled at her mother who was making a fresh plunger of coffee and listening to the conversation. ‘Thank you. It will be such a relief to be rid of it.’
‘Oh, there’s one more thing. You should make copies of the important documents, like bank statements and certificates, for your own protection. Sometimes things get lost. Do you have access to a photocopier?’
Lynsey frowned at the unexpected question. ‘Not here at the house.’
‘Darn. You could have used mine but I’m not at the office. I’m updating a will for an elderly client whose health has taken a turn for the worse. He lives way out of town.’
‘Don’t worry, Penny,’ Lynsey reassured her. ‘I’ll work something out. Mum and I are really grateful to you for organising the handover so quickly.’
‘Oh, that’s my pleasure. I’ll see you both in the morning then. And, Lynsey, guard that evidence with your life.’
A Daughter’s Choice Page 9