They both drew alongside the young woman, one on each side, and Eva caught a glance and a wink from Lauren over the girl’s shoulder. The wink was supposed to be a celebration for the team. But there was no team. There never had been. The gesture turned Eva cold inside. They walked up the steps, and into the marble-floored reception. The big man at the desk glanced at them, but he was busy talking to a well-dressed young man, laughing about some incident from a party. The concierge seemed to be doing the listening, just doing his duty, being polite. He glanced at them again as they approached the lift. His eyes settled on Lauren, then Suzie, then Eva. A look of confusion flitted across his face as the man in front of him wittered on.
“He was so drunk, that when he left,” said the man, “I saw him fall over a public waste bin. It was hilarious. It looked like he was flying, doing the full Superman.”
The concierge tittered but kept looking at them. Suzie’s eyes were reaching for him, glancing across her shoulder. Eva sensed it and gentle prodded her elbow into the girl’s ribs.
“Everything alright over there?” called the concierge.
“Yes, fine,” called Lauren.
Eva nodded. “Fine thanks.”
But Suzie kept looking, sending a coded appeal. Lauren leaned in close to the girl’s shoulder, put her lips close to the girl’s ear and whispered something Eva couldn’t hear. She felt the girl stiffen in her grasp. The elevator bell dinged and the brushed-steel doors slid open.
“Yes, we’re fine,” said Suzie, adding a tense and theatrical wave before all three walked into the lift. Eva noticed the girl’s eyes in the mirror. They were glazed with tears. She watched as a single tear ran quickly down her cheek.
“Don’t weep, honey. You’ll ruin your make-up.”
Lauren threaded her arm through Appleby’s and tugged on it as if giving moral support. But Eva knew the gesture was intended to create the opposite effect. And it was working. Appleby was a mess. Eva wondered what Lauren had whispered in her ear. But then decided she really didn’t want to know.
***
They’d passed the last Esso garage before Basildon, rapidly plunging down the slope of the A127 when the car engine began to shudder and protest louder than before.
“Hold it together, now,” said Dan, tapping the dashboard. “I should have got the car done. I was holding out for one more pay cheque before I got it sorted. A car like this, take it to the wrong garage, and you’re a pound of flesh worse off. Now that sounds cheap.”
“Just keep it ticking over,” said Mark.
“You know nothing about cars. Ticking over? There’s not a damn thing you can do to keep a car going when it’s wants to give out. Just please, not yet…”
Dan used the slope to add some pace. Without indicating, he cut across into the fast lane and boomed noisily past a queue of crawlers. He thought of taking the first exit to Basildon, seeing if the slower roads might help keep the car going. But thinking of Eva, he decided against it. He hit the accelerator and the car grudgingly gave him another burst of speed. The Jag behind him flashed its lights, telling him to get out of the way. No doubt about it, they were in trouble.
“James Bond never has to put up with this shit!” said Dan.
The words should have brought a smile, but they didn’t. Mark let go of the door handle and opened his hand. Mark and Joanne weaved their fingers together and held on tight.
Dan kept his foot down. They passed the first exit and kept moving. Not far ahead were the signs for the national speed limit. Dan wondered if the Egomobile could hack it, or whether the final push might kill the engine altogether.
“Here goes nothing…”
The white circle with the black slash passed them by. Dan rammed his foot down as if brute force would help. The car shook, something beneath the chassis rattled hard. Would it come apart? There was a loud bang, followed by a plume of black smoke churning from the exhaust and forming a cloud behind the rear windscreen.
“Uh oh,” said Dan. He watched the speedometer dip by five mph then ten, before the car jolted and picked up speed again.
“The car’s messing with us,” said Dan, shaking his head. “Trust me to pick another car with an awkward personality. As if I haven’t got enough of that in my life.”
“Least it’s speeding up,” said Joanne.
Dan turned his head and saw the self-conscious look on her face and their intertwined hands. He raised an eyebrow and humphed. The second turn-off was coming up. The one just past the Hollywood-style Basildon sign, with The Perryman Hotel not far beyond…
“Mark, the way you’ve been using my car lately… I think I’ll have to start asking you for some tips.”
Mark’s eyes flicked wide open. Joanne pursed her lips and looked away through the passenger window, acting like Dan hadn’t said a word.
***
“Open it. You’ve got the key. Do it,” said Lauren.
Suzie Appleby paused outside the door of the penthouse, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the jumble of keys alongside her briefcase and the bottle. She was making a meal of it, postponing the inevitable. Her fear was palpable.
“Let me help you,” said Eva.
“No!” said the girl in a shrill voice. She took control of herself, moved forward and opened the door which clicked open and slowly swung inwards, giving a slow reveal of the hallway inside.
“Well done,” said Lauren. “Next you can open the champers. And get some glasses while you’re at it. We’ll soon be celebrating. Well, maybe not all of us…”
Eva caught the comment and turned it over in her mind. She couldn’t tell whether Lauren’s words were aimed at the girl or her. But Lauren was a master of confusion and creating ill feeling. Her words were meant for everyone. The words of the psych report returned to her mind, haunting her with its medical certainty. “…a will to control others… disregard for the wellbeing of others, a lack of empathy, and crucially, an ability to act out of hate… without any moral code…” She heard her failure to recognise the threat even as it stood beside her, drank wine with her on her sofa, even as she worked through the woman’s lies. Because she had felt sorry for her. Lauren had suffered too much, went her reasoning… so she had made allowances. Reasoning used to spare the woman, when Lauren had no such rationale or compunction. Eva sensed the problems were coming to the fore… If so, here was a perfect opportunity for the woman to act out her hate.
But Eva still wasn’t done. There was another dimension in this game. Not her own sad past with Lauren, not even Lauren’s past in France. But the time after the asylum. The time when she met Blane. 2016. Eva needed her answer. Blane, Lauren, they were unbearable. Both of them acted out of hate and selfishness. But all Eva needed was an answer to one more question.
Beyond that she needed to ensure no one died. Including herself.
Lauren swished into the hallway. Her shoulder bag hung heavy on her shoulder.
“Darling, it’s me!” she called.
Behind her, Suzie Appleby called out. “Jamie! I couldn’t stop them. They ambushed me in the car park.”
Lauren arrived in the front room and looked back down the hall, shaking her head.
“That’s the trouble with screwing stupid little girls, Jamie. There’s so much drama to deal with. Ambush, indeed, Suzie – you’ve got such an active imagination.”
Eva walked up the hallway keeping Suzie Appleby at her side, regulating the pace and keeping it slow and even.
“What did she say to you, Suzie?” whispered Eva.
Appleby looked askance at her. Her eyes were troubled. Her façade was being washed away. “What?”
“She whispered something to you by the lift,” said Eva, keeping her voice low.
“That you were going to kill me. Kill me where I stood unless I let you in.” Her voice was trembling as she spoke.
“Me?” said Eva.
The girl shrugged, and the shrug became a stifled sob.
“Relax… she was bluffing,” s
aid Eva.
But the girl shook her head. Her back stiffened with every step she took.
“No,” said Suzie. “No, she wasn’t.”
They emerged into the big front room with the pristine white kitchen on one side and the brown and gold lounge on the other. Outside, beyond the vast windows, the sun had burst through the afternoon cloud and seemed to be showering the room with blinding rays of light. The sky looked dramatic, layers of clouds, grey, white and blue, cut with burning gold. Below, the Essex landscape seemed like a whole world laid out before them.
“I’ve missed this place,” said Lauren, walking to the window. “And you’ve not even done a thing to deserve it, sweetie. Aside from the obvious, of course. But to be a queen, a woman has to command authority. To have purpose as well as simple greed. And it’s plain to see you have nothing to offer the world but what you’ve already given.”
The girl stayed quiet. Both of them watched Lauren dump her bag on the table. It landed with a thud.
“Go on then. Open the champagne. And get the glasses. I’m afraid you’ve been relegated to hired help for the day. But you should be used to that. And I’ll let you have a glass anyway – seeing as you let us in.”
Appleby looked at Lauren’s face, sniffed, and walked to the kitchen. They watched her as she set four flute glasses on the counter and set about tearing the foil from the bottle. With a tense, shaking hand she unfastened the wire cage, popped the cork from the bottle, and a foam of champagne overflowed onto the counter. In the hallway, a door clicked, and Blane appeared. He was fully dressed, a cloud of steam following him from the bathroom. His hair was damp and there was a towel over his shoulders. He walked into the front room and glared at each of them as he patted his forehead dry. He looked more bothered than fearful, disinclined to play the man on the run. Eva shook her head. No one here seemed to behave like a human being should. She wondered if any of them would care if the others in the room dropped down dead.
“After what I’ve been though, Jamie, coming back here feels like heaven. Look, the sun’s come out to welcome me back.”
“Don’t get used to it,” said Blane. He joined Suzie at the counter, slipped an arm around her waist. But the girl remained stiff and uncomfortable. “Don’t pour them a drink. Lauren isn’t welcome here anymore. These two will be going in a minute or two.”
“Pour it, Suzie. Pour those drinks or else,” said Lauren.
The girl hesitated but carried on pouring. A froth of bubbles rose in each glass until they each overflowed. She set the bottle down, almost knocking it down.
“She knows, Jamie,” said Lauren. “She knows it’s over.”
“Of course it is. Because you’re insane. Cruel. Hateful. I couldn’t live with you any longer. Miss Roberts, have you even met the real Lauren yet?”
“By now,” said Eva, “I believe I’ve met the real versions of all of you.”
Blane took a glass and sipped it. “Seeing as you’ve poured, give it to them. Then they can go.”
Appleby approached with dread and handed Eva and Lauren a glass each before she hastily retreated behind the kitchen counter. Blane took his glass and left her there. He walked into the carpeted side of the room. Behind him, Suzie drank her glass down in one. She wiped her mouth and poured another.
“She’s greedy, see?” said Lauren.
“At least she’s not some sick harpy of a woman.”
“Given time, Jamie,” said Lauren, “I see her potential to become far worse.”
Blane glanced back at Suzie, ignoring the remark.
“It is over, but not the way you see it,” said Blane.
“You’ve got a nerve. You set that bloody killer on me. You even had Eva here convinced that I lied.”
“But you did lie,” said Blane, sipping his wine, staying a safe distance back. “You always do.”
“But Lauren only lied in creating the evidence, Mr Blane. The evidence to persuade me of your guilt. You’d covered your backside so well that without that evidence—”
“You would never have believed me,” said Lauren. “I know, Eva. That was obvious from day one. I needed to make you believe me. Then he played me right back and persuaded you I was lying.”
“You both played me, one and then the other, as if I was a pawn in your game,” said Eva. “But Mr Blane can’t hoodwink me anymore. You did hire a hitman. Adam Boothroyd. And the evidence is out there, Mr Blane. As I explained to Suzie there, deleting an email makes it disappear from sight, but not from the police. They’ll find it, believe me.”
Blane snorted and looked at his champagne. “You’re really rather beginning to spoil my day.”
“I think we must have spoilt your day when you realised we’d got the better of Boothroyd,” said Eva. “I wonder what will happen next? Will he confess and put you in the frame? After all, you have been very sloppy. You used your business to hire cars used by a killer. And Boothroyd knows you kept those emails. He also knows that’s how we found him. Which means he knows it’s your fault he’s currently in a police cell.”
Blane’s eyes flashed and his face grew tight. “That’s absolute rubbish, all of it..”
“You can speak freely, Mr Blane. I’m not recording you here. I only want the truth, for my own peace of mind. For the first time, the real, actual, truth…”
Blane blew out a long breath. “My employees stay loyal because they know I’ll have them covered for life.”
“But Boothroyd isn’t safe from prison, is he? And his emails have already shown a keen annoyance at your lack of care. A prison sentence tends to erode all loyalties, Mr Blane.”
“Your words, not mine. I’ve never come out the loser.” He looked at Lauren. “And I’ve never failed yet. In anything.”
“Wrong,” said Lauren. “Every day I lived here was a failure for you. Every day I won.”
“They were temporary setbacks. You say you’re a queen? You’re a witch, Lauren. A demonic bloody witch. And if you think ours was just a relationship gone wrong, Miss Roberts, then don’t kid yourself. I’m lucky to be alive!”
“Yes,” said Lauren. “Yes, you are.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling with menace.
“You both gave as good as you got,” said Eva.
“You think so? In her case Boothroyd was self-defence!” he shouted, jabbing a finger at Lauren.
“Hiring Boothroyd was the last resort of a very weak little man. The pure definition of a failure,” Lauren retorted.
“Enough, please, enough,” said Eva. She paced to the counter and put her glass down, untouched.
“Why are you even here? You’re a PI, right? You told me your case was to make her safe. Well look – she’s safe. Your job was done. Why the hell did you bring her here?”
“I have to do every job to my own satisfaction, Mr Blane,” said Eva. She gave Lauren a careful, look, and did the same to Blane. Lauren smiled at her and sipped her champagne.
“You used Reva Rentals for Boothroyd,” said Eva.
Blane frowned. “We used them when we needed to. Your point is?”
“In at least two instances, car rentals have taken place around the time of a sudden death or a violent attack and there are emails between you and Boothroyd relating to those hires.”
Blane’s face scrunched tight. The words sudden death were a code for 2016 and he seemed to know it. He downed his champagne and shook his head.
“That’s enough. I’m done with all this. I should just call the police. Suzie, make the call now will you?”
But the girl stayed in the kitchen, her hands on the counter, staring at the bottle.
“Suzie. Make the call!” said Blane.
The girl shook her head. “No,” she said, in a small, quiet voice.
“Why not?!” he demanded.
Appleby looked up at him. “Because it’s true. I saw those emails. I know what you did.”
“Yes, you saw them!” said Blane. “You saw them and you made it clear your priority was me. Us! The future
. Think, Suzie. Don’t play their game and lose everything.”
“But she has no choice, darling,” said Lauren. “And she knows it, don’t you, Suzie?”
Suzie looked up at Blane. “Your plan didn’t work, Jamie. Look at them. They’re here now. They left your man for dead. From now on you need to think of damage limitation. Boothroyd. Them. You need to make everyone an offer. If you do that we might still come out on top.”
“Oh, no, no, no!” snapped Lauren. “No amount of money, no bribe will ever make up for what he’s done.”
“You stabbed me! You ruined my life! You broke my spirit!” roared Blane. “You almost killed me! What about what you’ve done?!”
Lauren shrugged. “Things always happen in relationships. But I’ll admit it – I do accept that we’re finished.”
Blane stared at her.
“PIs work for cash,” he said, finally. “So why don’t we talk money? I’m sure we can fix up something between us all.”
“I’m not interested in bribes, Mr Blane,” said Eva. “I’m only after the truth.”
“No. You’re threatening to smear me again. The threat about my wife’s death, isn’t that right? You drag it up every time.”
“It’s no threat. It’s a question,” said Eva.
Lauren sipped her champagne and shook her head.
“A question?” said Blane.
“Leave it, Eva. Jamie’s a liar. You’ll never get to the bottom of it.”
Eva turned to face Lauren. “Funny thing is whenever I hear a line like that, it usually means I’m getting closer to the truth.”
Lauren made a face.
“Reva Rentals – were those cars always for Boothroyd?”
Blane shrugged. “He may have used them on occasion… but so did others. Staff. For genuine work purposes. Just how much will it take to get you off my back, Miss Roberts.”
“Forget it, Blane,” said Eva. “How many others have there been?”
“Deaths? Do you expect me to tell you anything without coming to an arrangement?”
“Yes – because it’s going to come out anyway. How many?”
“You’re after the truth?” he sneered.
Play With Fire Page 38