Jessica laughed, while wishing it was more than a joke; that a man might find her attractive. ‘Sorry, but I am taken by an emotional retard who acts like a complete prat nearly one hundred per cent of the time.’
Her mind shot to the discovery of earlier – where were his clothes? It didn’t make sense, but Jessica didn’t have time to dwell on the whys of Ronald’s behaviour right then. And given she was sitting next to a really, really cute policeman, why should she?
‘Damn, can’t compete with that, can I?’ He slapped his head in mock annoyance.
‘No one can,’ she told him. ‘No one can.’
But he pulled his eyes away from hers after a longer-than-expected time – and Jessica wondered whether or not there might be something there.
No, that was just a hopeful, neurotic daydream. There can’t be anything there – remember Ronald?
‘So, since you’re rejecting me, let’s talk business instead,’ Detective Gerry said. ‘You said you had a suggestion for me?’
‘I can give you the ringleader Chelsea Jordan, on the condition you leave the rest of them alone.’ He made to open his mouth in protest but she indicated he should wait. ‘She’s up to more than that shoplifting gig, and there is a minor involved. If you get her, the whole operation shuts down – she controls the internet site.’
‘But I need to catch her in the act – link the internet payment to the stolen goods. Otherwise I’ve got reason to go into her house to search it.’
‘You’ve got my say so.’
‘Not enough, I’m afraid. And Chelsea is the only one who we don’t have on CCTV. She’s clever, in spite of that hair and those heels.’
‘There’s a way to get in there,’ Jessica insisted. ‘Just listen.’
And so, over coffee and the sounds of screeching babies, Jessica Maroni revealed that Chelsea Jordan was a high class hooker – who did the business while her eight-year-old daughter was on the premises.
‘Any idea where she advertises?’
Jessica pushed over a tiny, embossed business card that she’d gotten from Frieda. ‘Word of mouth, so to speak.’
Nodding, and without another word, Gerry took the card, stood up and held out his hand. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’
When Ronald didn’t turn up for dinner, Jessica called him again and got Hussein. ‘Didn’t come back from court, I’m afraid. I did tell him you called.’
Thanking the young lawyer, Jessica hung up, but kept trying Ronald’s mobile. She finally caught up with him in the car.
‘Coming back from court?’ she asked.
‘Yes, as it happens, what’s up?’
‘There is no court at seven at night, Ronald.’
‘I had a client meeting, look, Jessica I’ll . . .’
And then there was a giggle. The sort that escaped while someone was trying really, really hard not to laugh.
Realising that if there was ever a time to stop giving him the benefit of the doubt, it was right then, Jessica simply hung up.
Her next call was to her mother.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WHEN RONALD FINALLY CAME home two hours later, he wasn’t wearing the same clothes he’d left in that morning. Different suit and tie. Possibly the shirt too. And they were both new. Maybe he had joined the BIBs’ Club, unbeknownst to her.
Not that I care at this point.
‘Where are your clothes?’
‘What?’ He had the good grace to look sheepish.
Bastard.
‘The clothes in your drawers. In the wardrobe. Where have they gone?’
‘Why are you rooting about in my–‘
‘Answer the question!’
‘I had a clear out. Big deal. You need to calm down, Jessica, you’re becoming neurotic.’
‘You were wearing different clothes this morning. These look new.’
‘They’re not. They were a gift.’
‘From who?’
‘Hussein. His uncle works in the business – supplies to Saville Row.’
Liar. Why had it taken her so long to see him for what he was.
‘And I suppose that was Hussein in the car with you before?’
It all hinges on this answer, Jessica decided. If he lies to me now, it’s over.
‘Yes. He apologises for the laughing, by the way. He’d received some obscene text.’
LIAR!
Without another word to him, Jessica called to the children, who were racing about the garden in excitement at being up so late.
‘Say goodbye to your dad, kids. We have to go.’
They dutifully obeyed, then hopped in the car. Ronald stared at Jessica. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘I am leaving you.’
His face was a picture. ‘What. You can’t do that. You think you can just saddle me with debts and leave?’
Trust him to mention money. ‘What debts?’
‘That blasted Visa, for a start.’
‘It’s paid for, Ronald. Now, if you don’t mind, we need to go before it gets too late.’
He took hold of her arm. ‘How did you pay for it? Are you doing something illegal again?’
‘None of your business now, is it?’
‘It is if the bank takes the money back, which they will if it came from criminal activity.’
‘It didn’t, Ronald, and as I said, I have to go.’
‘Go where, exactly?’
‘To Mum’s. I’ve booked the kids into school on the island.’
‘Without my permission?’ The smooth features seemed confused, as if unable to compute how she’d managed to pull herself from under his spell. She wondered how she’d ever found the expression attractive; how they’d managed to make two children and not realised that in fact, neither of them liked each other very much. They were educated individuals, two degrees between them and not clue about how to live their lives.
‘You didn’t want them, did you? So now you don’t need to look after them. You’ll come and visit, so that they don’t think you’ve abandoned them, and you’ll pay maintenance. Other that that, I think we are done here.’ Hands shaking, she walked to the car. She’d managed it – and without tears.
‘Don’t think you’ll get away with this. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll get them off you. No court will award custody to a–‘
Pulling away before he could finish, she called out that he could do his worst.
Finally, finally, she was out from under his spell.
She felt reborn.
‘What was Chelsea doing when you arrested her?’
Gerry had made the trip all the way down to the Isle of Wight on Sunday, just to fill her in. They were sitting on the beach, watching the kids race about. Rachel looked happier than Jessica could ever remember seeing her. Given the child was eight, that was truly sad. Still, things were changing. For all of them.
He laughed. ‘Working from home.’
‘Doing what?’
‘The internet accounts for your so-called Club, and can you believe it, a dodgy VAT return for her escort business.’
‘No!’
Gerry’s grin was broad. ‘Plus, you’ll be pleased to know that all the people who didn’t get what they’d asked for were robbed, too. In fact, our fake million wasn’t reimbursed either, not that it matters.’ It did beg the question of why Chelsea prostituted herself in such a violent manner though. The only conclusion Jessica could draw was that the BIB liked being beaten up, making it all the more imperative that Sienna was saved from the situation.
‘So, technically, she was stealing from home?’ Gerry chuckled at his joke, but something caused Jessica to pause.
Working from home.
That’s right. Ronald was working from home, the day Gerry went to the house looking for her. They’d had a long conversation, by the sounds of things.
‘Was he there alone?’
Gerry shook his head in confusion. ‘What? Who?’
‘Ronald. That day after we first me
t, when I didn’t show at Starbucks because my dad went missing. Ronald said he was working at home. Before that, though, he’d never worked at home.’
‘Probably because you’re there?’
‘No. He needs all his books and stuff – says it’s always too messy. In all our years of marriage, I’ve never known him to work at home. So . . .‘
The DCI looked uncomfortable.
‘He wasn’t alone, was he?’
‘No. He wasn’t. There was some girl there. She was young, so I thought it might be an au pair.’
‘That non-existent one we can’t afford? What were they doing?’
Now his face was a dark red. ‘He was at the door, speaking with me. She was sitting on the sofa. In her underwear. I don’t suppose they were working.’
The rage that Jessica felt at Ronald’s betrayal was so great that she feared she might actually explode. How long had he been cheating on her, on the kids. Saying that he didn’t have time to be a dad . . . when he had time to be a rotten philanderer.
Now that she was in the swing of behaving uncharacteristically, Jessica decided that one more rash act wouldn’t hurt. Looking Gerry directly in the eyes, she said, ‘You know that date you mentioned?’
‘Yes.’ The response was eager. Quick.
‘How about it? As of a few days ago, I am a separated woman. A single mother with two children. Can you handle it?’
Gerry groaned. ‘Can I at least start with the date? After all, you are a known, small time criminal.’
Thinking that he was turning her down, she made to call the kids. How embarrassing. This was why women shouldn’t ask men out.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I thought, well, that you didn’t want . . .’
‘A date? Of course I do. I’ve wanted to ask you out from the first moment I saw you. But you were married. To a lawyer. In fact,’ the consternation was evident, ‘you still are.’
‘Well, if we take it slow, I won’t be, after a while. Especially now that I can prove he is an adulterous bastard.’
‘Slow is good.’ He ran a finger over her hand, then pulled it quickly away as Rachel and Paul came up to ask if Jessica would stand in the water with them.
‘You’ll get your trousers wet, though?’ The little girl looked up worriedly. ‘Do you mind?’
Jessica smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘Of course not, baby. After all, we don’t want Detective Gerry to think I’m one of those high maintenance ladies, do I?’
She should have found the ensuing laughter from the children and DCI Courtauld insulting – apparently they thought the notion of messy, chubby Jessica as high maintenance hilarious.
But instead, the jovial jeers were the best sounds she’d heard in a long time.
She might have taken the long way around, but having sunk so low, Jessica Maroni was finally climbing her way out of the hole she had dug herself – Ronald, Surrey, Chelsea, Mrs Scott – they no longer had a hold of her.
Grabbing the children’s hands, she shouted to Gerry that they’d easily beat him to the water’s edge.
‘Come on, Gerry, yelled Paul, pulling away from Jessica and running back to urge the detective on.
As Jessica looked back, the tears began to fall once again.
But this time, they were tears of happiness, because the sight of Gerry lifting a laughing Paul in the air and spinning him around was unbelievably wonderful.
He might really care.
Who knew?
THE END
The Shoplifting Mothers' Club Page 14