Daughter of Riches

by Janet Tanner

  He was – thank heavens – fully dressed in shirt and slacks. ‘Juliet! What are you doing here?’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you.’ She felt foolish suddenly. There really had been no need to come rushing round to see him tonight. The morning would have been quite soon enough.

  ‘I see. You’d better come in then.’ As she walked past him into the hall she caught the fleeting gleam of quickening interest in his eyes.

  ‘I know it’s late but I was practically passing,’ she lied. ‘I thought maybe it would be better to come now rather than disturb you tomorrow when you may be working.’

  Her voice tailed away suddenly. A woman had emerged from the sitting room, a petite dark-haired woman a few years older than Juliet herself.

  ‘I think it’s time I was going, Dan. I’ll see you again.’ The woman stood on tiptoe, kissing him lightly on the cheek. ‘ Take care now.’

  ‘Yes, and you, love. I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘All right. Bye now.’ She smiled at Juliet as she passed but it was a guarded smile, without warmth, and Juliet wished heartily that she had not come. Stupid, really, but it had never crossed her mind Dan might have a woman with him. She wondered why the very idea of it made her feel irritated and depressed. A man as attractive as he was was bound to have women friends for heaven’s sake!

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said awkwardly, ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt.’

  ‘It’s all right. You didn’t. Fran was just leaving.’

  Fran. Yes, she looked like a Fran. Self-assured and pretty. Just the sort he would go for. Juliet’s stomach tightened another notch.

  ‘Look, I realise I should have waited until tomorrow,’ she said hastily. ‘ It was a hell of an imposition, turning up like this. I’ll go again.’

  ‘No need. I’m going to have a nightcap. Why don’t you join me?’

  His hand was under her elbow, steering her into the sittingroom. Fran’s perfume lingered faintly. Juliet tried not to notice it.

  ‘What would you like?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, something soft. I’ve already had a couple of glasses of wine this evening and I’m driving.’

  ‘Mineral water?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘It seems awfully unexciting,’ he said, passing her the glass.

  ‘No, really. I don’t want anything else.’ She didn’t add that after seeing Viv’s drunken performance this evening she thought she might very well give up alcoholic liquor completely and for ever.

  ‘So,’ he said, pouring himself a good measure of whisky. ‘What brings you here at this time of night? Interesting developments?’

  ‘No. I’m sorry, Dan, but I’ve had second thoughts. I don’t think I want to go on with this.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Not for a moment did he allow his expression to betray his dismay. ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Because I think I’m stirring up a hornet’s nest.’

  ‘That might mean you are getting somewhere.’

  ‘I suppose so but I’m beginning to wonder if I have any right to do that. My family must have suffered a great deal over what happened. What right do I have to rake it all up again?’

  ‘I thought you were anxious to establish your grandmother’s innocence.’

  ‘She claimed responsibility. Nobody forced her to do that.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Oh come on! I’ve had a couple of weeks in which to get to know her but I think I can safely say she is not the sort of woman anyone can force to do anything. In her own quiet way she is a very determined lady. No one forced her and no one framed her. The decision to confess was hers. Right or wrong, who am I to interfere after all this time?’

  ‘Hmm.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘What brought on this change of heart?’

  Juliet sipped her mineral water. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The last time I saw you you were absolutely dedicated to investigating the past. Now you turn up at – well, rather a late hour for a social visit, saying you don’t want to go on with it. Something must have happened to change your mind.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ she hedged. ‘I just don’t like interrogating my relatives, that’s all.’

  His pulses quickened. ‘I see. And which of them was it you were interrogating when you suddenly developed a prickly conscience?’

  The colour flamed in her cheeks. ‘I don’t think that is any of your business.’

  ‘Really? Then let me remind you that you came to me asking me for my help. I have invested quite a bit of time and effort into helping you with your enquiries. I would have said that makes it my business.’

  She bit her lip, embarrassed. Put like that it didn’t sound too good.

  ‘Look, Dan, I don’t really expect you to understand but I just feel terribly disloyal to my family. In the beginning I didn’t really know them. My only loyalty was to my grandmother. I even thought in a naive sort of way that if I could prove she had been wrongly convicted my parents would make things up with her. They went to Australia because of what happened you see and they’ve really had nothing to do with her ever since. I thought maybe I could bring them together again. But now I feel like some kind of spy. I’ve got to know the others and to like them and I can’t do this to them. When Viv blew her top tonight about Louis I realised for the first time just what a dislikeable person he must have been and I realised something else too. What on earth would happen if I discovered one of them had a hand in his death? It would start the whole nightmare up for them all over again. I can’t do it, really I can’t.’

  Dan sipped his drink. He was sitting in one of the faded wing-chairs, long legs splayed, apparently very relaxed. But his eyes were narrowed and he tapped thoughtfully on the rim of his glass with his forefinger.

  ‘You think then that someone else in your family might be implicated,’ he said after a moment.

  ‘Isn’t that what you suggested when I first talked to you about it?’

  ‘Well, yes. Yes, I did, it’s true. But now I’m beginning to wonder if I might have been wrong.’

  ‘How come?’

  He turned his glass between his hands, regarding her steadily.

  ‘Suppose I told you I have uncovered at least one angle that has nothing whatever to do with any of your family, Louis excluded of course. Would that make any difference to the way you feel about going on with your enquiries?’

  Juliet sat forward eagerly. Her eyes were suddenly very bright.

  ‘Say that again!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That you think there’s a chance someone else might be implicated – someone outside the family.’

  ‘I didn’t exactly say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.’

  ‘Who?’ Juliet demanded.

  He hesitated. He was still not certain whether he should be telling her what Phil Gould had told him. For one thing it was breaking a confidence, for another he was no nearer knowing what it was Louis and Raife Pearson had quarrelled about that night, and certainly he had not the least reason to suppose it had any bearing on the shooting. But in a way the second reason negated the first. Raife was not and never had been under suspicion. It was no secret – at the time plenty of people at his club had known about the quarrel, but no one had ever been able to point the finger at Raife. Now Dan felt the one way to make Juliet keep on digging was to dangle an incentive under her nose. And besides … she was obviously very worried and unhappy about this whole affair. He would have liked to be able to reassure her that none of her family were involved.

  ‘All right, I’ll tell you as much as I know,’ he said.

  He watched her as he talked, watched the expressions flicker across her face, and found his attention wandering.

  What was it about her that made him feel this way? It was so long since any woman had reached him on any level at all, let alone stirred this cocktail of tenderness and, yes, desire, that he was experiencing now when he looked at her, listening intently as he talked about Raife Pearson and the possib
le connection between him and Louis. He was, he thought, beginning to want her and the emotion was disturbing. Angry with himself, feeling oddly that he was somehow betraying Marianne, he dragged his full attention back to Louis Langlois.

  ‘So, there you have it,’ he said at last. ‘Raife Pearson is just one man outside the family who had quarrelled with Louis.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She was looking thoughtful, her earlier hopefulness overshadowed a little as if she too had seen through the thinness of the story. ‘Did he hate him enough to kill him though? I mean, if he’d been going to shoot Louis wouldn’t he have done it there and then, not waited until he got home and shot him down in cold blood?’

  ‘Raife didn’t shoot him. He couldn’t have. It would have had to be a hired gun.’

  ‘It sounds awfully far-fetched to me. He would have had to have a pretty strong motive to go to all that trouble – or take the risk if it comes to that. I’d like to think it might have been him, of course. I’ve just got my doubts, that’s all.’

  Dan drained his glass and got up to pour himself a refill, wondering just how much he should say.

  ‘There were plenty of others who had good reason to hate Louis by all accounts.’

  ‘Hate him enough to kill him? Do you really think people go around killing other people because they hate them? Isn’t it far more likely to be because they love them – well, love them too much, or for all the wrong reasons …’ She broke off, realising what she had said – made out yet another argument as to why Louis should have been killed by someone close to him. ‘Oh shit!’ she said softly and suddenly all the traumas of the evening came together, gathering into a knot of tears in her throat. She lowered her head, blinking fiercely in the hope that he would not notice. But the tears escaped anyway, rolling down her cheeks. She fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief. ‘Dammit, what’s the matter with me?’

  He pulled a clean handkerchief out of his own pocket. ‘ Is this what you’re looking for?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’ She took it gratefully. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being very silly.’

  He dropped to his haunches beside her, covering her hands with his. ‘Come on, cheer up. Nothing is that bad. It’s all very old history, remember.’

  ‘Not to me.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ He put his arm around her more by instinct than design and after a moment she looked up at him. Her eyes were still slightly muzzy with tears which lent a soft focus to the outlines of his face, blurring them a little so that she was reminded of the way he had looked in the Underground Hospital, still strong, but with the edges knocked off somehow so that she could glimpse the man underneath. She laid her face against his shoulder and at the touch something sharp and sweet stirred within her, something so powerful and surprising it took her breath away. For a moment she remained motionless, afraid of the surge of feeling that was setting her on fire, more aware than she had ever been before of the nearness of another human being. It was so little, that contact, just her head against his shoulder and his arm lying lightly around her, yet it was as if she could feel him with every nerve ending in her body, as if the whole of her being was alive suddenly with desire and expectation.

  Very gently he took her chin in his hand, tipping her face up towards his. Mesmerised she watched his face come closer, closer, until she could no longer see those outlines, even muzzily, and his lips were on hers. A shudder ran through her then, as every bit of the tension in her body was jarred by the contact and after a moment’s hesitation she was kissing him back with a fervour that made her senses swim. Oh God, she wanted him, she wanted him! But as the thought edged her consciousness it seemed somehow to trip a switch deep within her and shock her back into reality.

  ‘For heaven’s sake …’ She pushed him away, laughing shakily.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ His voice was rough, grating.

  ‘Well, you’re quite a man, aren’t you? Two women in one night …’ She didn’t really know why she’d said it, the moment it was out she knew that she had somehow betrayed the jealousy she had felt, but to her surprise he only tried to pull her close again.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  She wriggled away. ‘Your lady friend – the one who was here when I arrived. What would she say if she knew that you …’

  He released her. She saw his eyes darken.

  ‘That wasn’t a lady friend. That was my wife’s sister.’

  She went cold. ‘Your wife! I didn’t know you had a wife!’

  He swallowed, turning away. ‘I haven’t. She’s dead. Fran comes to see me sometimes, just keeps in touch …’ He didn’t add that seeing Fran hurt him sometimes more than helped. She was so much like an older, more sophisticated version of Marianne that it drove daggers into his heart.

  ‘Dead! Oh dear. I had no idea …’ Juliet said. She should be sorry for him she knew – she was sorry – and embarrassed too at her gaffe. But neither regret could erase the soaring relief. Oh, for one horrible moment to have thought he had a wife!

  He was pouring himself another drink, tossing it back.

  ‘Is it …? Was it …?’ She faltered, not sure whether she ought to pursue the subject.

  ‘It was a motor cycle accident,’ Dan said without turning round. ‘A drunken driver hit us on Christmas Eve three years ago. She was in a coma for almost a month before she died. I used to go and sit with her, looking at her lying there – it was just as if she was asleep. I expected her to wake up at any minute. But she didn’t. She died. And I was driving the damned bloody motor cycle and I’m here.’ He put down his whisky tumbler with exaggerated care then balled his fists and drove them into the table top.

  Juliet’s stomach contracted. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry! But you mustn’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault, I’m sure …’ Instinctively she went to him, putting her arms around him, but this time there was no response. He stood bowed, seemingly oblivious to her being there even and suddenly she felt foolish and awkward again. ‘Dan … I’d better go …’ She turned away.

  ‘Don’t go.’ He said it so softly she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

  She hesitated. ‘I must. They’ll be wondering where I am.’

  He straightened as if trying to throw off his mood of despair. ‘Yes, I suppose they will.’ His voice was almost normal now, matter-of-fact. Only the slight note of uncertainty betrayed the emotions that had been tearing him apart moments before. ‘I’m sorry about all this.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who should be sorry for reminding you.’

  ‘You didn’t remind me. I never bloody forget. But perhaps I should try to. Perhaps it’s time to stop looking back. It’s just not that easy, that’s all.’

  ‘No. Dan. I must go.’

  ‘OK.’ He was looking at her, his brows drawn together so that his eyes were almost shadowed. ‘Juliet, I want to see you again.’

  A pulse jumped in her throat. ‘I thought I’d explained – I can’t go on with it,’ she said, deliberately misunderstanding him because she did not know how else to deal with the sudden rush of conflicting emotions. ‘If you can prove someone else was responsible I’d be over the moon. But I’m not playing detective any more if it means taking advantage of my family’s hospitality.’

  ‘I know. I wasn’t talking about that. Forget your grandmother, forget this whole damned business. I want to see you.’

  The pulse jumped again, again she experienced something close to panic. She hadn’t expected such intensity of emotion, especially on his side. He had seemed so cool, cold almost, and self-contained, it was disturbing to see what went on under the surface. She wasn’t sure she could cope. And besides …

  What about Sean? Dear Sean, waiting for her at home in Australia, trusting her, expecting her to get engaged as soon as she got back. How could she have forgotten him so easily? One kiss and she was ready to turn her back on the years of loving. Was this what they meant by holiday romance? Swept off one’s feet by a
different man in a different place?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘ but I really do think it would be better if we just left it. I don’t know if I mentioned it but I have a fiancé back home. I suppose I should have said but it didn’t really seem relevant.’

  His eyes narrowed. All emotion was hidden again.

  ‘Oh I see. Well in that case I suppose there’s no more to be said.’

  ‘Not really.’ But she felt like crying again and in the privacy of her car, driving home in the soft darkness she let the tears come, sliding down her cheek though she did not make a sound.

  Oh Sean, why don’t I feel that way about you? What the hell is wrong with me? But I won’t be unfaithful to you, don’t worry. I wouldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t … however much I might want to.

  When Juliet had gone Dan Deffains poured himself yet another whisky. He was drinking too much, he knew, but what the hell? He needed it!

  What a night, he thought ruefully. First Fran, doing her duty call, then Juliet with her double bombshell – no more investigation into the death of Louis Langlois, and ‘no thanks, I don’t want to see you again’. It was difficult to decide which was worse. No – he knew that all right. There would be other jobs. Something always turned up. But Juliet was the first girl since Marianne died to stir him at all. He had thought his emotions had been embalmed along with her. Tonight, for the first time in three years he had wanted a woman, and on more than a physical level too. Yes, it was a mixed emotion. Yes, it made him feel faintly guilty, as if he was somehow cheating on Marianne. In spite of that he had still wanted Juliet – and he had thought briefly that she wanted him. But his judgement was way off key. She had a fiancé back home, blast his eyes, so that, presumably, was the end of that.

  Dan drained the last of the whisky from the tumbler and hurled it across the room. He had the feeling it was going to be a long night.

  ‘What a bloody life!’ Viv said vehemently. ‘What a bloody, bloody life!’

  It was an hour since Juliet had left and Viv had now worked her way through all the stages which inevitably followed one after the other when she drank too much. The desire to shock had gone now and the feeling of invincibility and the euphoria. Now she was merely maudlin – and very wide awake.