False Money

by Veronica Heley

‘True,’ said Oliver, also speaking softly.

  ‘I can stop worrying about Claire being in charge of Pippin, because she’s not supposed to be on duty again till Tuesday, by which time the police will have been informed of what she’s been going on and of our suspicions. We really have nothing to worry about now, have we?’

  ‘I’m going to have one last look at the contents of that computer of Tomi’s. I’m only about halfway through the deleted emails.’

  ‘Shall we have some scrambled eggs on toast for lunch? I think I’ve a pot of home-made soup in the freezer.’

  ‘Carbohydrates are always good when you’re worried.’

  Oliver brought his laptop into the kitchen and booted it up while Bea made lunch. Winston the cat arrived from the Great Outdoors and begged till Bea attended to his wants. Oliver fed himself one-handed, concentrating on his laptop. Bea stared out of the window and told herself not to worry. Worry didn’t get you anywhere.

  How could she mend fences with Max and Nicole? If she sent them flowers, Nicole would have all the bother of arranging them. If she sent a hamper of food, someone would have all the trouble of unpacking it.

  The front doorbell rang, and they both jumped. It rang again before Bea could get there.

  Mr Impatience stood there: a fine leather coat thrown across his shoulders, and a big smile lighting up his face.

  ‘I’m Gregor,’ he said, stepping inside without waiting to be invited. ‘What a beautiful house, and you must be the famous Mrs Abbot?’

  He was in his late twenties, of no more than medium height, but confident with the charisma that is the birthright of some Middle Europeans. He was dark of hair, swarthy of skin, with lively bright brown eyes that took in everything and laughed at everyone. Bea wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d insisted on kissing her hand, but he didn’t go as far as that.

  ‘Won’t you come in?’ she said, which was absurd, because he was already in.

  ‘Thank you.’ Gregor gave her to understand, without saying a word, that he admired her in every possible way, and especially as a woman. Although, of course, he would never dream of overstepping the mark and making a pass at her . . . unless she were to invite it.

  Flattered, bemused, and rather inclined to laugh, Bea led the way to the sitting room, expecting him to pay her some compliment about her decor, too. But no. He was far too clever for that. Instead he went directly to Hamilton’s portrait on the wall and admired that.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said, charm incarnate, ‘I’ve heard so much about this portrait from Hermia, who knows a good thing when she sees it. Your husband was a man you could trust, I think. Painted by someone with a touch of genius; someone he himself trusted?’

  The twist he gave this observation made her pause. Gregor was obviously charming; yes. But he also had a bright-eyed intelligence, which was as rare as hens’ teeth. Would Oliver be like this in fifteen years’ time? Ah, but Oliver lacked this man’s light touch and his belief that life was an amusing game. On the other hand, Gregor might lack Oliver’s integrity.

  Oliver had entered the room behind them, and at once Gregor swung round to greet him. ‘Ah. The Vunderkid. But no; that is to belittle you.’ Gregor was perfectly capable of pronouncing his ‘w’s, but he’d put the word ‘Vunderkid’ in inverted commas when he said it. Being amusing. Now the artless smile disappeared, and he looked hard at Oliver, as hard as Oliver was looking at him. Bea had the impression that Gregor could read Oliver’s history from the moment of his birth. Perhaps he could. What did Oliver see in his turn?

  ‘Yes, of course. I understand,’ Gregor said, softly. ‘You have been given great gifts, my friend, but the greatest of these is your lodestar.’

  Colour rose in Oliver’s cheeks. ‘Yes. Without Mrs Abbot, I am nothing.’

  Gregor’s eyebrows twisted. He threw off his coat, which landed in a perfect arc over the nearest chair, and seated himself. ‘Now, you will be wondering why I am here. Claudine has been phoning me night and day. She makes me feel as if I am back in the headmaster’s study, threatened with expulsion because I’ve been running a book on the house cricket competition. No doubt she is right to scold me, but being scolded by Claudine is not conducive to a healthy self-respect. So you see me here, penitent and ready to help you in whatever way I can.’

  Gregor was going to cooperate? Good.

  Bea laughed, offered coffee – which was refused – and sat down herself. Oliver found a chair nearby.

  Gregor had a heavy gold bracelet on one wrist and a Patek watch on the other. His clothes were excellent. He’d probably parked a sports car outside, and it might even have CD plates on it, to avoid parking tickets.

  He smiled, and the room lit up around him. Life was bright and joyful; life was amusing, and in his presence they felt the same way.

  Bea struggled to remember what she’d been told about him. Married and divorced. Live-in girlfriends. Financial chicanery, being investigated by the police? She would have taken her oath that he’d be found guiltless, whatever he’d actually done. And he’d probably done plenty in his time.

  Bea smiled because he was smiling. ‘So what did Claudine say to make you come to me?’

  He leaned forward, clasping both hands – a signet ring on his left hand – around his knees. ‘She says you believe we are all in danger, that one of us is killing off the others. I don’t agree. I have known my friends for so many years, too many years to coun –’ and here he waved his hands dismissively – ‘and I don’t believe it. Not one of them would think of killing in the way described.’

  ‘They’ve all been in touch with you?’

  ‘Of course. I am, how you say, the wise man, the one they bring all their little troubles to. They are like children to me, you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Oliver.

  Bea nodded. Gregor might not be as old as his friends in years, but in many ways he was as ancient as the hills.

  Gregor said, ‘So, I understand you have made yourselves responsible for investigating the case of dear little Tomi, and I am here to give you the benefit of my experience. Where would you like me to start?’

  Bea said, ‘You’ve all been ringing one another every day since Tomi’s body was found, haven’t you? But you’re the one who didn’t want outsiders involved, though you did eventually agree that Duncan could put CJ and myself in the picture?’

  ‘That is correct. At first I thought . . . poof! Little Tomi dying in a ditch? What a tragedy. But I had many other matters to occupy my mind, as you may have heard. Yet I was sad to hear she had died. She had a certain je ne sais quoi, an integrity which was unusual. I took her to a Fine Arts gallery once; an experiment, you understand. It did not answer. She had no appreciation of modern art.’

  Oliver was indignant. ‘The world is the poorer for her passing.’

  ‘A trite remark, my friend, though no doubt accurate . . . if you believe in man-made justice.’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  A wave of the hand. ‘There can be a distance between man-made and natural justice, don’t you think? I acknowledge that my comment might have seemed crude. Even untimely. I will admit that she had an aura of goodness. Will that do?’

  Oliver half smiled and nodded. Bea wondered if these two might, at some future time, become friends; friends who could argue about everything, agree on nothing, but still respect one another’s point of view.

  ‘So,’ said Gregor. ‘Tomi died. I was abroad, but their phone calls chased me all over Europe. Harry the Hard Done By—’

  ‘What?’ Oliver grinned.

  ‘Afraid so. Never satisfied, always complaining, and whatever it is that’s gone wrong, it’s not his fault. Even Tomi got tired of listening to him at times. It was typical of him to wail that she’d stood him up when she went missing. I hear that your little film-maker got into a fight with Harry about her. Did he really give Harry a black eye? I wish I’d been there to see it.’

  ‘Chris did hit him, but not very hard. Incidentally, H
arry was much bigger than Chris.’

  ‘He’s a young cock sparrow, I’m told.’ The idea amused him. ‘It was like Hermia to pick Harry up and say, “There, there, Mummy’s here.” If foolish. I believe she’d had another of her spats with Jamie at the time, which I suppose explains it.’

  ‘Did she often have spats with Jamie?’

  ‘Mm, now and then. She’s no fool. If she’d married him, she’d have been the man of the house, always having to rescue him when he got into trouble . . . and be bored to tears within the month. So – tell me about your young cock sparrow.’

  Saturday noon

  Claire had left her mobile telephone number with Nicole in case of emergencies. She rarely worked weekends, and this Saturday it was out of the question for her to do so, since she was being introduced to Jamie’s mother.

  Jamie’s mother was a frigid monster, not unlike – Claire imagined – the appalling Mrs Abbot. The meeting had not gone well, though the two women had been polite to one another. Claire had been shown round the quarters which Jamie occupied on the top floor of his beautiful but slightly bedraggled stately home and had enthused about it. Of course. Jamie had been pleased with her. Everything was going according to plan.

  Nevertheless when Nicole rang, Claire was not unhappy to hear that she was desperate for her to return, if only for an hour or two, over the weekend. And, though Nicole understood Claire had something booked for Monday morning, perhaps she could fit in a couple of hours on Monday afternoon as well?

  The red tide of excitement rose in her, and she began to make plans. Why not return to London early? It would give her one last opportunity to knock out another claimant to the Jackpot. Hermia, of course, was first on the list.

  SIXTEEN

  Saturday noon

  Bea was amused. Instead of answering questions, Gregor was asking them. So he wanted to know all about Chris, did he? ‘Well, what have you heard?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Which version would you like? Harry said he was an insolent yob, wet behind the ears. Tomi said he was sexy in a Bohemian sort of way, although not exactly her type, and that he had a father who was something of an éminence grise. She believed he was a budding genius, who’d dropped out of university to make films. Hermia said he was single minded, a good friend, had integrity and a lot of charm. I understand he’s appointed himself acting minder to Hermia.’

  ‘Does that surprise you?’

  A quick frown. He hooked one knee over the other and spread his hands.

  Bea concluded, ‘You care about Hermia.’

  A shrug. ‘Of course. We are very old friends. All of us. That is the problem, isn’t it? Those of us who are left, we must look out for one another.’

  ‘Did you like Nick?’

  ‘Hah. An idiot. When he was young, he was taken in by a girl older than himself, who said he’d made her pregnant. He married her, was loyal to her. She lost the baby at four months and the doctors said she couldn’t have any more. She left him to pursue a much older, richer man, and he took to chasing love wherever he could find it. I felt rather sorry for him, actually, having had much the same thing happen to me.’

  ‘We heard you’d been divorced.’

  A twist of the mouth. ‘She was beautiful, young and said she loved me to distraction.’ He kissed his fingertips. ‘She also loved racing cars and racing car drivers. I believe she’s happily living with one now. We had no children, fortunately.’

  ‘You play the field, as Nick did?’

  ‘Not as Nick did. Certainly not. I am far more discriminating, and I don’t pay for it, except occasionally with the sparkle of diamonds.’

  Oliver stirred. ‘You say you went out with Tomi once, and that Nick tried it on with her, too. She wasn’t promiscuous.’ He made it a statement, but Bea heard the note of doubt.

  Gregor hastened to reassure him. ‘No, of course not. She was a beautiful girl, intelligent and gracious. She had the glamour of having starred in a small art film that had won a prestigious prize. It was no wonder that the men she met wished to improve their acquaintance with her. My reading of the situation was that she was flattered to be singled out by older man with money to spend, that she liked being taken to good restaurants and being introduced to a different lifestyle. From my own observation, she was fond of Harry, but didn’t take him seriously. She would have drifted on to a better prospect in time, no doubt.’

  Bea did some swift mental arithmetic. ‘Jamie.’

  ‘A busy lad, our Jamie; what with Hermia on one side, Tomi for special occasions, and his pretty little chick for everything else.’

  ‘What do you know of his girlfriends?’

  ‘His fiancée?’ A shrug. ‘A particularly nasty small child. Hermia?’ He waved his hands around. ‘Delightful girl. Intelligent, hard-working; what’s not to like?’

  ‘Were you never inclined to push your luck with her?’

  ‘Hermia loves me dearly as a friend and companion, but she’s formed the opinion – I’m sure I don’t know why – that I have a frivolous side to my nature. Perhaps she is right. I find it hard to live up to her high standards. Besides which, she’s taller than I am when she wears heels. No, no. We are good friends, that is all.’ He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece and checked its accuracy with his watch. ‘Now, if you will permit me, I really must take my leave. I have some important calls to make. Do, please, feel free to contact me at any time.’

  He got to his feet, as did Bea and Oliver. Bea said, ‘I suspect that you personally will be hard hit if you don’t get that money on Monday?’

  ‘True, dear lady. As will some of the others. We’re all greedy little tykes at heart, don’t you think? I’ve asked Duncan to arrange for the money to be transferred electronically to our individual accounts on Monday afternoon, which he assures me he will do. Oh, and by the way, we shall be holding a little party at Duncan’s on Monday at eight to celebrate. Hermia suggests her young cockerel makes a DVD to record the moment when we all turn from pumpkins into fairy-tale princes and princesses. Would you both care to join us? Hermia’s little boy can bring his camera, young Oliver here can manage the lighting equipment – as I gather he has done in the past – and perhaps you, dear lady, will take charge of the recording machine?’

  He swung his superb coat on to his shoulders and made his way to the door. ‘Don’t bother to see me out, and oh – before I forget – I’ve advised everyone concerned to drink nothing but bottled water till Monday night when we break out the champagne. Perhaps you might wish to do the same? I should hate anything to happen to either of you – or to the young cock – before then. He’s been sent back home for the weekend, by the way. Hermia is going with a party of friends to the theatre tonight. Very wise of her. She’ll be safer there than in the company of a randy young college dropout.’

  Bea felt herself smile, because Gregor was smiling, too.

  ‘I’ll see you out,’ said Oliver, also smiling.

  ‘No need,’ said Gregor, but Oliver insisted. When Oliver came back into the room, he’d lost his smile.

  So had Bea. ‘Did he have a chauffeur-driven car outside?’

  ‘A minicab was parked on the other side of the road, waiting for him.’ Oliver rubbed his chin. ‘Now, what was all that about, apart from the obvious?’

  ‘He wanted to make sure we weren’t going to the police before Tuesday. He seemed to speak freely and to give us a great deal of information, but most of it we knew already. He didn’t want to talk about Jamie and his new fiancée, and he didn’t mention Duncan’s girlfriend. Quite deliberately, I think. I’m not sure why. He’s a very clever young man. What did you make of him?’

  ‘I liked him. I don’t trust him, though. I can see why everyone else wants him to be the murderer, although they know very well that he isn’t. It’s just not his style.’

  That chimed with Bea’s view, too. ‘An interesting remark about Claire Stourton. He called her “a particularly nasty small child”.’

  Oliv
er was fretting. ‘He made out that Tomi was promiscuous. She wasn’t.’

  Bea shook her head, which he could take any way he wished. The girl had gone out with Harry and Gregor and had rebuffed Nick. Had she gone out with Jamie, too? It sounded like it. She hadn’t gone out with Duncan, because he’d got his own girl on tap. Or had he?

  It was a grim and dismal afternoon. The rain hadn’t let up. Bea turned up the central heating and switched on the big side lamps. Drifting past the mantelpiece, she picked up and dusted the silver photograph frame showing her smiling family: Pippin in Nicole’s arms, with Max standing behind them.

  She was not going to cry. No.

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing he got right,’ said Oliver, ‘and that’s you. I didn’t feel able to tell you this before, but I was terribly homesick when I first went to uni. I understood how it was that Chris dropped out. I’d sit and imagine you here in this room with the lights on as it got dark. Sometimes you were playing patience at the table by the window and looking up at the portrait of Mr Abbot. I’d make believe that you were thinking of me at that moment and wondering how I was getting on. I’d get my mobile phone out a dozen times a night and wonder if I dared ring you. Then I’d say to myself that it was time to grow up, that you didn’t want me bothering you all the time. Now you can have a good laugh.’

  Sentimental, or what? He’d seen her grieving over Max and Pippin, and had made his confession to make her feel better. It had worked. She did feel better.

  In the normal way of things, he was going to grow away from her very soon and start thinking more about a new girlfriend than about Bea. He might even try to find his birth mother and father, and transfer his love to them. But, for now, she was his lodestar. So be it.

  At this very moment, it was up to her to reassure him. ‘My dear boy, you’ve no idea how many evenings Maggie and I have sat on after supper, wondering what you were doing and what friends you were making. We’d try to work out what nights you saw certain friends or went to jazz or whatever. Maggie even ticked off the days before you were due to return on the calendar in her room.’