Scandalous Lies: An addictive, sexy beach read

by Nigel May

  Andy, a local East End lad, was about five years older than Jack. He’d been in the pub with a couple of mates and Jack could see from afar that he was definitely an epicentre of action. People gravitated towards him. To a seventeen-year-old like Jack, Andy seemed the pinnacle of cool. And if Jack wasn’t mistaken, he was definitely dealing some kind of drugs. He clearly had a good thing going on.

  Jack had never tried drugs before. Growing up in his parents ‘house of God’ did not lend itself to an opportunity to experiment with narcotics. The church wine was about as exciting as it got under the roof of his mum and dad. Fuelled by the beer and the desire to sample London life, Jack had half-swaggered, half-staggered over to Andy and asked if he could buy some coke. A bold move that could have resulted in a broken nose as opposed to a coke-filled one, but Andy had liked the kid’s bravado.

  They’d talked, hit it off and Andy had treated Jack to his first ride on the white powder highway. At the end of the night, at kicking out time, Jack had been so wankered that Andy ended up letting him crash at his place on the sofa. With all of his money spent and no job prospects, Jack was hardly likely to book himself into a hotel or try to find a deposit for rental on a flat. Jack never left Andy’s.

  Andy earned his cash from breaking into people’s houses and using the cash to buy drugs to supply. Jack knew he had found a kindred spirit and Andy seemed happy to play big brother and teach his new apprentice. They made a good team. They made mistakes, but they made them together.

  The two of them had an unwritten bond. They had survived, only just, but they had survived, until Jack’s stupid little mistake with the silver brooch. Wearing it out to go clubbing, and getting nicked for speeding in the wee small hours of the morning was a school boy error. But at the age of nineteen, just two years after first rocking up in London, Jack was sent down.

  The police had grilled him as to whether he worked alone or with somebody else. Jack took the full hit. It was his fault, after all. Andy’s flat was searched but the men had always been savvy. Nothing they nicked was left on the property and Andy had disposed of all drugs the moment Jack was arrested.

  It was the same property the two men were now snorting coke at.

  ‘I could never work with anyone else when you were put away,’ said Andy, sniffing between words. ‘It didn’t feel right. You did the smart thing, not taking me down with you, but I appreciate it, man.’

  ‘I was the stupid one. I fucked up. But I’m back and I’m ready for action.’

  ‘The team back together? Is that what you’re saying?’ The wry smile that formed on Andy’s lips told Jack that he was not against the idea.

  ‘I’m smarter and I’m stronger. Prison did me good.’ In an attempt to prove the point he lifted up his T-shirt a little, revealing his jackdaw tattoo and the hard formation of his stomach muscles. ‘I’m not a kid any more, Andy. The Jackdaw has all grown up.’

  ‘I can see that. Those are some serious abs.’

  ‘So …?’ Jack’s voice was laced with hopeful expectation.

  ‘Fuck man, welcome back.’ Andy held out his hand, took Jack’s in his and pulled him towards him in a hug of both nostalgic reminiscence and renewed friendship. ‘The spare room is full of my shit but it’s yours if you want it. Just like the old days.’

  Jack’s smile was so wide his face could barely contain it. ‘Let the adventures begin, man.’

  ‘Well, funny you should say that, I’ve just got wind of a job that could prove to be a nice little earner.’

  Sixteen

  Watching her MacBook Air spark into life as she sat in her Indian hotel suite, Georgia had never felt so grateful to have Charlie in her life. After the horrendous news the day before that a dead body had been found in a canyon near where Mitzi and Foster had last been seen alive, Georgia’s spirit had felt beyond crushed. She felt helpless and didn’t know where to begin. Was the body Mitzi’s? The thought was too much to bear.

  Georgia had read the article over and over again. It was an early report and details were sketchy to non-existent. A body had been found in a cave by a hiker trekking through the canyon. The hiker had taken shade in the cave as a way of escaping the searing California sunshine. He’d noticed a smell within the cave and followed his nose until he had stumbled across a rotting corpse. It was after the grisly discovery that the authorities were alerted. As yet there was no further news.

  Charlie had held her all night. Their first night in India was supposed to have been one of romance and joyous adventure but the news about the body had stemmed any flow of excitement that Georgia might have had over their exotic new surroundings. Not even the five star luxury of their hotel room with its deep, dark wooden furniture and its plush selection of finest woolen rugs seduced Georgia and Charlie to disconnect themselves from their fears about the body. As Georgia lay on the bed, her tears falling onto the soft embroidered bolster pillow underneath her face, it was misery, rather than the softness of the crisp cotton sheets, that blanketed them.

  They had kept logging on to the internet all evening in the hope that more details were forthcoming but news was patchy.

  Charlie had made some phone calls to his contacts in America and also back to the news desk on Rise and Shine to try and find out any extra morsels of information, but the cupboard was bare. After fruitless hours of searching for more news, Georgia had eventually fallen asleep in Charlie’s arms, the sanctuary of his warmth comforting her as much as possible. Her dreams had been peppered with images of Mitzi and Foster, fading into the distance as she tried to reach out to them. She had woken up more exhausted than the night before.

  Nova and Jacob had dined together at one of the hotel’s many restaurants. The news had shocked them both, too. They had not actually realised just how close Georgia was to Mitzi, and through association, Foster. Jacob had tried to console her as best he could, saying that until identification was complete, there was hope that maybe the body was unconnected to the case, but Georgia, grateful though she was, could tell that Jacob didn’t believe what he was saying. She could see that he was a man who could never cotton-wool the truth, no matter how hard he tried. It might work on Nova, but Georgia could see right through it.

  Nova did the best she could to keep spirits high too, saying that maybe they should all dine together. She had even extended the invitation to Victoria, but she, like Georgia and Charlie, said that she would rather return to her room.

  Unusually for Nova, she and Jacob had crawled into bed relatively early. She too found solace and warmth in the arms of her lover, as Jacob held her close to him. Life as Nova was fantastic but having a good man alongside her to share it all made it even more special. She blessed the day he had come into her world. He was such a sensitive soul for one so ruthless in business. He may be feared and hard-hitting when it came to the boardroom ways of media LA but to Nova he was that perfect combination of pussycat and powerhouse. A man’s man, someone even the sharpest of ballbreakers could respect for his ruthless business know-how, but someone who had enough love in his heart to fill the San Andreas Fault. He could be firm with her, sometimes even bossy and overly strict, but he was always fair. In the mad world of La La Land TV, he was perfect at grounding her when, as he said, she was becoming ‘a touch too Hollywood’. There were moments when his words could be cruel, maybe crueler than she deserved given how she had turned her life around, but for her career, for Charlie, for her dreams, she would forgive him anything.

  Victoria had spent her evening ordering room service – a selection of rich Rajasthani Indian desserts – and luxuriating in the jasmine and lavender scent-filled delights of her deliriously deep bathtub.

  But sleep evaded her. Her head spun with thoughts of Mitzi, Charlie, Scott. Late into the evening she walked to the hotel village restaurant and watched a puppet show and local dancers. She thought about Charlie. He was a strikingly handsome man, one whose features she could not erase from her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, there he was. Georgia wa
s a lucky woman. She couldn’t help but think that maybe she was too lucky.

  Not that she wasn’t lucky herself, of course. She had Scott. He was good-looking, rich, successful, a great husband. She hoped he found her a good wife, even if there was a little more of her than there used to be. So the sex had dried up a bit – almost to a state of drought – but surely that happened to every married couple after a while, especially when there were children to deal with. Nothing screamed passion killer like a child with whooping cough or a dose of the chicken pox. And then there were her body issues.

  But was she making excuses for him? Blaming family life and her own increasing waistline for his lack of interest in the bedroom. It was an easy conclusion to draw. Scott was a man who enjoyed sex. When it did happen, his pleasure was evident. Was he finding it elsewhere? Her own tip-toeing thoughts of possible infidelity had made her realise just how easy it might be for a person to stray. The more she thought about it, the more she considered the possibility that he was having an affair. She and Scott had spoken when she returned to her room. She needed to hear him, to help give her some kind of clarity in her own mind about their situation. It was good to hear his voice even if he had seemed a little distracted.

  ‘How is India?’ he asked.

  ‘Hot, humid, rather beautiful and full of people I’ve seen from the TV.’

  ‘Like who?’ enquired Scott. ‘Hang on, darling, just wait one moment, Leo wants his dessert. Chloe’s made them oatmeal brownies.’

  She could hear the children laughing in the background as Scott gave their son his brownies. How very healthy, she reflected, brownie points indeed for Chloe. Victoria had been serving them trifles and sponge puddings of late. She could hear Lexi in the background too, ‘Chloe, you make the best brownies, so crumbly and yummy.’ It had deflated Victoria’s spirit somewhat. So Chloe was joining them for dinner. Should she be jealous? She guessed not, but was unable to banish the worry that leaked into her brain.

  Scott returned to the phone. ‘So, who is there?’

  ‘Nova Chevalier and her husband, Jacob. She is like a caricature of all things Los Angeles and rather fabulous to be around. Quite brashy and trashy. She’s from Champagne Super Nova.’

  ‘Oh, okay … Lexi, mind your orange juice, and don’t spill it, darling. Chloe, can you grab a napkin?’ So, she was definitely at the table. She normally ate in her room.

  Victoria continued with her conversation. ‘And her son is Charlie Cooper from the news show in the morning and he’s here with his weather girl girlfriend, Georgia. Evie and I used to be in a Zumba class with her. Taught by Mitzi, the dancer who has gone missing in America. It looks like they’ve found her body, poor girl.’

  ‘Really? Wow.’ Scott started to laugh. Given the news Victoria had just delivered, this immediately irked her. ‘Lexi has spilt juice all over her brownie. That will make for an interesting flavour. I’d better go, darling. Have a good time and enjoy the course. The kids send their love.’

  ‘Can I speak to them?’ But it was too late. Scott had already hung up.

  It had not been the most satisfactory of conversations and as Victoria replayed it in her mind she couldn’t help but worry about the way her marriage seemed to be potentially crumbling apart like one of Chloe’s blessed oatmeal brownies.

  But as she drifted off to sleep later that night, her mind stewing thanks to a cocktail of another anti-depressant coupled with the nausea that she might have to prepare herself for the fact that her husband was indeed finding solace between the legs of another woman, it wasn’t Scott’s face that filled her thoughts, it was Charlie’s.

  The following morning Georgia typed the words ‘body found in canyon’ into the search line of her MacBook, rubbed her eyes with tiredness and waited with dread to see what the search yielded. Unsurprisingly, there had been no mention of the discovery of the body on the Indian news channels because Mitzi and Foster were unknowns outside of the UK.

  Georgia was on her own and would be for most of the day as Charlie was working on the cookery course, filming interviews. Nova, Jacob and Victoria were all taking part too. The day was hers to do with as she pleased, but all she could think about was Mitzi.

  The search results immediately confirmed her fears. The body had been identified. But the headlines revealed that it wasn’t Mitzi. It was Foster.

  Every online newspaper in the UK seemed to be leading with the same story. ‘Reality Star Foster Hampton’s Body Found In Canyon Cave.’

  Tears began to fall again as Georgia read the reports. Foster’s decomposing body had been found and identified. The cause of death was a massive blow to the head and the case was now being treated as a murder investigation. The suggestion was that his body had been moved to the cave in a remote part of the canyon in order to try and hide it. As yet, an ongoing extensive search of the area had not revealed any further bodies or a murder weapon. The disappearance of Foster’s girlfriend, dancer Mitzi Bidgood, was still being treated as highly suspicious and the search would escalate and increase now that foul play was suspected.

  Georgia switched off her MacBook and rushed to the bathroom to wipe her eyes. The news made her feel bilious. Poor Foster. But at least there was still a glimmer of hope. Until they found Mitzi’s body as well, Georgia had to believe that her best friend was still alive. And nothing would stop her until she knew the truth.

  Seventeen

  ‘Why am I here? I don’t want to die. Maybe if I’d run a little faster, or tried to reason then I wouldn’t be staring death in the face.’ The thoughts pinballed through her head as she twisted her mind back to that night. The face staring down at her. That demonic look in the eyes. The face of her own doom. Why hadn’t she managed to escape? She dug her nails into her palms, annoyed at her own weakness.

  She could still hear the sound of the stumble alongside her, the deadening of breath as body hit floor. At school she’d always been the first to finish the race on sports day. What the fuck had happened to her now? Was it panic and blind fear that had slowed her down? Sent her to this vacuum of a grave?

  She attempted to inhale as deep a breath as possible as the rope was removed from her mouth. Her throat scorched as she felt the air, acrid with odour, hit her windpipe. Her mouth, rusty with misuse, tried to let out a cough. Was she alone? Was there a familiar figure alongside her? She couldn’t tell.

  The first human contact in what seemed like an eternity had come from a hand as it ripped at the binding gagging her mouth. There was no way she could see who the hand belonged to in the darkness of her surroundings. Her own hands and feet were still tied.

  ‘We need to clean you up? Get you ready.’ The voice. Maybe there was an inkling of recognition but her fatigue wouldn’t let her decide. A hand grabbed at her hair, pulling her roughly upwards and a water-soaked cloth passed over her face. She tried to suck some of the moisture from it as it moved across her lips.

  A few tiny drops seeped down her throat, not enough to satisfy, but enough to gift her a moment’s clarity. One thought crashed into her mind. Ready for what?

  Eighteen

  ‘Well, don’t you have the magic touch when it comes to my bush?’

  Aaron raised his eyebrows and smiled. There was no doubting Tanya’s double entendre even if it was smeared in her heavy accent.

  ‘Yes, it just needed some tender love and care,’ smirked Aaron. ‘Don’t they all?’

  ‘No, you are doing a great job, that abelia hasn’t looked so good in months. All pink and healthy. But then it has never had such expert hands on it. You’ve done so much in such a short space of time.’

  Aaron had only been working on the garden for a few days but already he was loving seeing the transformation. Trees that had been overgrown and forgotten were cut back and shaped, ready for a new lease of life. Shrubs and bushes that had been parched and left to slide into extinction had been resuscitated back into colour and vitality. And it felt good to have the sun on his back. A shirtless one that he was qu
ite happy to show off in front of Tanya. Aaron was in great shape and manual labour in the garden had a fantastic knack of moulding even the most forgotten of muscles into glorious high definition. And judging by the way that Tanya had been making regular trips down the garden to see his shirtless torso, bringing him drinks and snacks with increasing regularity, especially while her husband was at work, he guessed she was a fairly bored housewife. His favourite kind.

  Her latest trip down to him was with a much needed beer and a sandwich. Not that Aaron was overly sure about what he was eating. He was a BLT kind of guy and this wasn’t his usual palate.

  ‘Cheers for the beer, it’s much needed. And the sarnie. What is it?’

  Tanya looked confused? ‘The what?’

  ‘The sarnie … sorry, the sandwich. What’s in it? It’s tasty. I like it.’

  ‘Kielbasa and Russian cheese.’

  ‘I’m none the wiser.’

  ‘Kielbasa is a Polish sausage. It’s one of my favourites and the cheese is a flavour-full one from Russia.’

  ‘Smart. Beats egg and cress!’ he smiled. ‘So, is that where you’re from? Poland? I love your accent.’

  ‘I’m Russian. The Polish sausage just happens to be something I love to eat, but the cheese is from my homeland.’

  ‘Tanya’s not a very Russian name, is it?’

  ‘Oh yes it is. I was born Tatiana, but is it shortened to Tanya. It is said to mean I am illustrious, open to anything and born to travel.’

  ‘Well you certainly made it to the UK. What brought you here?’

  ‘Love. I met Devon when he was working in Russia. He was there working on his science projects.’

  ‘So from Russia to all of this?’ Aaron nodded towards the house and gardens surrounding them and swigged his beer.

  ‘This doesn’t even compare with my life in Russia. I am the daughter of a Russian oligarch. My house in Russia was three times the size of this. My family were very popular but after the collapse of the Soviet Union the rich people were blamed for a lot, and became very unpopular with the Russian public.’