by Karen Swan
‘I don’t suppose you checked his bags?’ Kate quizzed. ‘If he was carrying around that much cash, he must have had a lot of suitcases. Money is heavy. So they tell me,’ she muttered.
‘Kate, this is serious. Besides, he has an account with a very private Swiss bank.’
‘Right.’
‘But it wouldn’t surprise me if he had brought money over in one of the jets. They rarely check on the private flights, you know.’ Chloe stared into space, going back over the memories and picking at the scar they had left till it bled again. ‘Oh – and plus he had a whole container of furniture all ready to move into it, which he then brought over again by private charter. Looking back, it was like he was trying to spend as much money as he possibly could.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘I mean, have you ever met a man who bought the contents before he bought the house?’
Kate shook her head. ‘Don’t they just go out and buy a washing machine and kettle the day after they move in?’ She squished her lips together as she watched her sister for signs this was a wind-up after all. ‘Damn, so you’re actually serious about this. He was money-laundering.’
‘Well, that’s just my opinion. And the police’s – possibly. They’ve got a number of theories.’
‘What does Tom think? It’s his company.’
‘Tom thinks he works for Alexander Subocheva.’
‘No way!’ Kate shouted. ‘That guy? On the street? He didn’t look like a heavy!’
‘Not as security. Tom thinks he could have been working for him as a mole – keeping tabs on us; well – me.’ Chloe felt another stab from the words. It was idiotic that it should hurt her more that he might be a corporate spy than a money-launderer. Neither scenario made him marriage potential, as her mother would say, but if he had been tasked by Alexander to get close to her, to find out what she was doing, then it meant everything that had happened between them had truly been a lie. ‘Alexander thought we were leaking details of his movements to his rival and Tom reckons he used Joe to get close to me, to see if I would tell.’ She had remembered his questions on the boat, trying to find out who she’d been on the phone to – trying to get her to give up the names of her clients, what they wanted. But every time she had resisted. Thank God she had resisted. Tom was convinced that was what had made Alexander let her go – Joe must have reported back that she was discreet, dependable.
She didn’t know what to think. She felt like she didn’t know anything any more.
‘But you didn’t?’ Kate looked worried. ‘Tell, I mean.’
‘Of course not.’
Kate sat back, digesting the revelations. It was a lot for anyone to take in. ‘So going back to the money-laundering thing – was it just the one house he bought, then? Because you’d think he’d buy more than one if this was a ring.’
‘I know, but he might have planned more and he just didn’t get that far. After we . . . hooked up, I told him I couldn’t represent him any more.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I heard him on the phone to someone. A woman.’ She looked up to the ceiling, feeling the tears threaten; they always felt just below the surface at the moment. ‘Because what are the chances he’s married? Y’know, just to add to everything,’ she groaned. ‘So I got the hell out of there and told him Serena would help him from now on. But she hasn’t heard from him.’ She sighed; she had devoted surprisingly little thought to Serena since getting back from Greece. ‘Unsurprisingly, I suppose. I came back here to a huge shit-storm with Tom and Jack; by then they’d found out Joe wasn’t who he’d said he was and they’d got the police involved, worried he was behind what had happened to Poppy and that I might be in danger too. I guess he must have caught wind of it all somehow because no one’s heard from him since. Whatever his game was, at the very least, he knows he’s been busted as a fraud.’
‘So we’re looking at fraud, spying or money-laundering? Christ, those are big guns pointing at him, Chlo,’ Kate said, looking anxious, and Chloe knew what she was thinking – where there was smoke . . .
Chloe remembered the whispered phone call on the balcony . . . Arouse suspicion . . . ‘I know. And I know he is guilty of something bad,’ she nodded.
Kate leaned in, looking at her more closely. ‘But?’
‘But . . .’ Chloe sighed, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes, as though rubbing out the world, even though the tears were falling anyway. ‘Everyone’s so dogmatic about him – the police, Tom, Jack – they’re all telling me what they think he is and what they know he isn’t. It’s like . . . It’s like they’re trying to control what I think about him. And yet—’
‘And yet you’re still mad about him.’
‘They don’t know him! I do!’ Chloe looked back at her, feeling a rush of despair, flooded with a desolation that until this moment she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge. ‘And when I was with him, it didn’t feel like a lie. It felt real.’ Her voice was barely audible, shame coating every word.
Kate looked back at her sympathetically, reaching over to rub her knee. ‘But, Sis, if he’s even one of those things that they’re saying about him . . .’
Chloe sniffed, feeling stupid. ‘I know, I know that’s what people like him do,’ she said, looking away. ‘He has to be convincing, a master manipulator.’ She gave an embarrassed shrug as the silence extended. She wanted her big sister to bluster them through this; there was always a way with Kate. But even she couldn’t tell Chloe what she wanted to hear; no one could. How could anyone possibly argue in favour of a man wanted for questioning by the police? A man who might very possibly be working for the man who had arranged for Poppy to be hurt? It was a mess, there was no upside, and after several minutes she forced a smile, forced him back out of her thoughts again. There was no point in this, trying to find solutions to fit – it achieved nothing. ‘So you see,’ Chloe said, taking a giant breath, trying to rally. ‘When you consider the alternatives, Tom really isn’t the duff option you thought, now is he?’
Kate forced a laugh but it sounded as contrived and false as it really was. ‘Well, now that I come to think about it, he has been growing on me . . .’ she murmured, still looking worried.
Chloe’s eyes slid over to Marmalade, resplendent in his new harlequin silk bow tie. ‘Yeah. My taste in men isn’t that bad.’
It was commotion, people everywhere wheeling bags across the concourse, their eyes up as they scanned the display boards. Someone – Tom most likely – had told her once that at any given moment, around the world, there were always a million people in the air. And now her sister and little nephew would make up two of that number.
Chloe jigged Orlando on her hip as Tom helped Kate collapse the stroller over at the outsized baggage area. ‘Now, no crying on the plane, you hear me? You’re going on a big, exciting adventure back to Daddy who has missed. You. So. Much.’ She tickled his tummy, making him shriek and wriggle with delight. ‘And don’t kick the seat in front because . . . well, it’s really annoying.’ Orlando put his thumb in his mouth and began sucking it; he looked tired already. ‘And don’t sleep too soon. And make sure you look after your mama for me when you get back, okay, little fella?’ she said, chucking his plump cheek between her fingers.
Orlando blinked back at her, all eyelashes and dribbly lips and white-blond curls. ‘God, I’m going to miss you,’ she said, kissing his head as Kate and Tom came back.
‘You’re never going to believe this,’ Kate said, her eyes bright and clutching Tom’s arm excitedly. ‘Tom’s only gone and secured us an upgrade! To first class!’
Chloe smiled, looking across at him. ‘I should jolly well hope so. There’s got to be some perks to having the owner of a luxury concierge business as your sister’s boyfriend.’
‘Here, let me take my pal,’ Tom said, taking Orlando from her with a groan. ‘He’s a heavy potato, aren’t you, dude?’
‘Not a topato,’ Orlando pouted, making them all laugh.
‘And what did you promise?’
Tom asked solemnly.
‘Not to eat peas on my knife,’ Orlando said by rote, looking very proud of himself.
‘Exactly. Because, trust me, I’ve been there and done that – and when it goes wrong, it hurts.’ Tom pulled a face, making Orlando kick excitedly.
Kate turned to look at Chloe, tears already shining in her eyes. ‘Oh God. I hate this bit.’
‘Me too.’ They hugged, so tightly their fingertips blanched. ‘I wish you didn’t have to go.’
‘You’re going to be fine,’ Kate whispered into her hair.
She nodded. ‘I know.’
‘And I take it all back. Tom’s amazing. He’s fallen over himself to get to know me and Orly this weekend – and he clearly adores you. You could do a lot worse.’
‘I know,’ Chloe nodded again. ‘I’m very lucky.’
Kate’s grip tightened. ‘You are. You are.’
Chloe felt her sister’s fingertips tense on her shoulders and wondered which one of them she was trying to convince. They pulled away. ‘FaceTime me when you get back, okay? Just so I know you’re there safely.’
‘Hey, who’s the big sister here?’ Kate demanded with a grin, taking Orlando from Tom and giving him a warm kiss on each cheek. ‘And you look after my girl,’ she said sternly. ‘She needs it.’
‘I will,’ Tom said solemnly, taking Chloe by the hand. ‘I promise.’
Tears dropped silently onto her cheeks as Kate nodded, looking at them both for one last time before she turned and walked into the bag-check area, she and Orlando waving frantically at the boundary before finally slipping out of sight.
Chloe felt a part of her going with them. She kept staring at the point where they’d gone, in case they should reappear. It was all she could do to keep herself from breaking into a sprint and joining them.
Tom turned to look at her. ‘Well, I guess it’s just you and me again, babe.’
Chloe nodded. Was it supposed to sound such a bleak prospect? ‘I guess so.’
‘Coffee?’
She sighed; smiled. ‘Sure.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
She’d brought flowers this time – a tall spray of palest blue delphiniums that held their own amongst the helium balloons and fruit baskets in the lift. Everyone rode up in silence, progression stilted as they stopped at almost every floor again, dropping off some only to pick up others.
She walked down the corridor; it was exactly the same as when she’d been here the other week, just with different faces. She couldn’t see the nurse who had thrown her out last time, and it wasn’t Charlie sitting outside her door. In fact, no one was.
‘Hi, I’m here to see Poppy Langham,’ she said, her eyes going back to the unguarded door.
‘Name?’
‘Chloe Marston. I’m a friend.’
‘Room 822, down the corridor there—’
But Chloe was already walking. She slowed as she reached the doorway, steeling herself. Seeing her friend last time had been a traumatic experience.
Taking a deep breath, she popped her head round. ‘Hey . . .’ she said quietly. And then ‘—Hey!’
Poppy looked back at her with an almost-smile. She was sitting up, an iPad propped on her legs. Her left leg was still in a cast but her arm was supported in a foam sling now. The bruises and cuts had faded and there was real colour in her cheeks. But best of all, the bandages and wires around her head had been removed. She looked like Poppy again, no longer Mr Bump.
‘Well, I don’t need to ask how you are. I can see!’ Chloe grinned, rushing into the room and carefully hugging her. ‘I can’t believe the difference.’
‘What can I tell you – an alkaline diet, daily Pilates, gold facials and you too could look like me.’
The words were still a bit of a mumble but Chloe laughed. ‘Oh, I have missed you.’ She put the flowers on the table and sat gently on the bed. ‘Nothing’s been the same without you, Pops.’
‘Eventful, I gather.’
‘Oh . . .’ Chloe felt her smile falter; she didn’t want to distress or burden Poppy with the horrors that lay below the surface. ‘You know, so it goes on. Want to hear Pelham’s latest?’
‘But of course.’
‘Hot air balloon ride above the Serengeti.’
‘Nice.’
‘You’d think.’
Poppy managed a grimace. ‘Tell me.’
‘A bird flew into it, tore the canopy and they landed in the middle of the park with nothing to protect them but a wicker basket.’
‘No!’ Poppy gasped.
‘Luckily, they were already descending when it happened so they weren’t as high as they might have been; and the bright colours and the flapping of the balloon meant the animals were too scared to approach before the rangers got to them.’
‘That is lucky. Were they okay?’
‘He’s got a nasty whiplash and she’s got a fractured hand. But otherwise they’re fine.’
‘Which hand?’ Poppy winced.
‘Left.’
‘Please tell me he got the proposal in first?’
‘Of course not. He’d been waiting till they were over the caldera in Ngorongoro apparently. That poor man is destined to carry that ring around in his pocket.’
‘Well, it’s not going to go on her finger any time soon now, that’s for sure.’
‘Poor Pelham,’ Chloe smiled, suppressing her laughter. ‘Why he can’t just get down on one knee at the breakfast table and ask her, is beyond me.’
‘And how’s our diva?’
‘Well her affair with el presidente is raging on. She’s back in Brazil at the moment so she’s been pretty quiet for the last week. You know she had her hair cut?’
‘No.’ Poppy looked shocked. Rosaria’s long raven hair was as much a part of her branding as her famous bosom and soaring voice.
‘Naturally she regretted it within the day so I had to get the clippings recovered from the bin, sorted from the other clippings—’
‘Ew!’ Poppy pulled a face.
‘—And made into a hairpiece. They managed to put it on clips so it just sort of looks like she’s had layers put in now.’
‘God, I’ll have to google it,’ Poppy said, eyes wide. ‘And Mike?’
‘Back from Hawaii now. He just about managed to get the album laid down, and he’s in post-production now. Did you hear about the lead singer’s OD?’
‘Yeah. What happened there? I thought they were watching him like a hawk.’
‘They were. We had several private doctors managing his prescriptions. But apparently he ordered a cake for the wrap party and it turned out to be dusted with cocaine. Everyone thought it was icing sugar. And on top of everything else he’d taken . . . ’
‘Unbelievable,’ Poppy muttered.
‘Mike’s furious because it means the album can’t be supported by a tour now and that’s where the money is.’
‘How selfish of his lead singer to have died on him like that,’ Poppy said drily, shaking her head. But her smile faded. ‘Honestly, this world. What’s wrong with everyone? When did we all stop being kind? When did it become normal to care more about money than each other?’ Poppy sank her head back into the pillow, watching her, and Chloe detected a shift in her mood, like a car moving down a gear. They both knew where they were heading. ‘. . . And Christopher? How’s he?’
‘He’s happy,’ Chloe said, trying to find the positive stories. Depression was common after a major head trauma. ‘The festival went well – his new film was runner-up for the Palme d’Or at Cannes. He’s in Sardinia at the moment on Coppola’s boat so he’s not calling in much. Although I did help out his daughter last week who had travelled to Belarus without sending ahead the paperwork needed for a visa.’
Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘That’s always fun.’
‘Tell me about it. I must have spent five hours on hold.’
‘Ugh.’ A silence bloomed and Chloe knew what was coming. She could see it in the way Poppy looked at her; she could
see it wouldn’t be stopped. ‘. . . And Alexander. How is he?’
Chloe met her gaze. How could she tell her he wasn’t with them any more, without explaining why?
‘. . . Have they found Elodie?’ Poppy said, before the words could leave Chloe’s mouth.
‘You know about that?’ Her eyes travelled to the TV on the far wall. ‘Oh, I see.’ Of course Poppy knew about Elodie’s disappearance; what else was someone bed-bound with broken bones going to do but watch TV? She probably knew more about the case than anyone – well, anyone apart from Chloe; she hadn’t been able to tear her gaze from the fallout of Alexander’s hubris, she couldn’t bear that his wife had been the tragic victim of his craze for power, that his hunch had been wrong after all and his bluff had backfired. ‘No. The search was called off two weeks ago.’
‘The official one, yes, I know. But surely Alexander has his own team looking? He’ll be so devastated. Losing her would destroy him. She’s his world.’
Chloe didn’t know what to say. ‘Uh, no, he doesn’t have a team out. He never did.’
Poppy looked stunned. ‘What?’
Chloe wet her lips, not sure where to begin, what to leave out. ‘He didn’t believe she’d fallen in the water . . . He thought Lorenzo Gelardi had taken her.’
‘Lorenzo?’ The colour drained from Poppy’s face. ‘But why?’
‘As a distraction whilst he made a takeover bid for Alexander’s hotel group.’ She bit her lip, watching as Poppy digested the news. She looked fragile again, her earlier bloom of health fading fast. ‘Which is crazy, clearly and not something we should be discussing anyway. I came here to cheer you up, not—’
‘But this . . . no. This can’t be.’ Poppy’s words were a croak, her gaze settling into the distance. ‘The takeover . . . ?’
Chloe’s shoulders sagged. Had Poppy kept up with the business news? How much did she know? ‘Yes. They’re still fighting it out but it looks like Gelardi’s going to do it. Alexander had brought a new investor in, but from what I understand it’s not enough and the majority of the board are now in favour of the new offer.’