THE JAGGED LINE

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THE JAGGED LINE Page 18

by Carolyn Mahony


  Half an hour later they were leaving the nightclub, his arm around her as he guided and supported her out into the fresh air. She was flopping around like a wet fish, and any attraction he’d felt for her disappeared, lessening his excitement. He already knew this wouldn’t be one of his better experiences. No point wasting too much time taking her back to the flat. There was a tiny alley a short distance away with a few houses backing onto it. He already knew one was empty and for sale. Easy to unhinge the back gate – he’d checked it earlier and left it unbolted. It would be perfect.

  ‘Don’t feel good,’ she mumbled, clutching onto his arm tightly.

  ‘You’ll be better in a minute with the fresh air. I think that last cocktail was one too many for you. Come on, this way. I’ll get you a cab.’

  The stupid woman barely put up any resistance at all. She was out of it, making only a half-hearted attempt to push him off when he pushed her down on the ground in the back garden. His gratification was brief and disappointing, lessened by the fact that he hadn’t been able to indulge in his usual games and activities.

  He stood up and left her there – returning to the flat with a sense of dissatisfaction that did nothing to suppress the frustrations that were already beginning to resurface.

  He knew it wouldn’t be long before he did it again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ‘What’s up?’ Luke asked Kirsty in Costa’s the following morning. His manner was brusque, as if he didn’t want to be there.

  Well, neither did she, but he was the only person she felt she could turn to.

  ‘Thanks for coming. I’m sorry to eat into your Saturday. I’ll try to be quick.’ She hesitated. ‘You remember I told you I was worried that Dad’s accident wasn’t an accident?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I need to talk to someone I can trust to see if I’m being paranoid or not. Robbie tells me I am – but then I’m beginning to suspect that he’s got a vested interest in saying that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  His voice was impatient and she frowned. ‘Please bear with me, Luke. This isn’t easy and you’ll understand why in a minute.’

  She stirred her coffee, trying to marshal her thoughts. ‘I told you about meeting up with Paul Copeland’s girlfriend and how she was suspicious of the upstairs tenant? And that Dad called on him, the same day he died?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I know it’s all circumstantial, but I told Robbie about it because the tenant upstairs is a friend of Simon’s and I thought he might know him. I also tackled Simon about it. Both of them tried to fob me off, saying I was being paranoid thinking he might be involved in any way – and that I should leave it to the police. But the thing is, I’ve come to realise that neither of them want me poking around because basically they don’t want the police, or more accurately, the taxman, looking into them too closely.’

  She eyed him anxiously, glad that he was hearing her out without interrupting. ‘You will keep this next bit confidential? It’s really difficult for me and I just can’t get my head round it … but Cartwrights seem to have a thing going with Jordan’s whereby they don’t always do things by the book, if you know what I mean?’

  ‘I think I can guess.’

  ‘It’s part of the reason why I went to France. Before that, while I was doing my stint at Jordan’s, I came across some papers. They were sale papers on a piece of land – Grandma’s land.’

  ‘But you knew it had been sold.’

  ‘Yes, but this was a second deal. When Gran died, Rob and Dad said the land wasn’t worth much because it was agricultural and had no development potential. It was sold, and the proceeds went into Gran’s estate to be divided up between Dad and Aunty Anne. This second deal was dated several months later, when it was sold with planning permission to Stantons Luxury Home Developments – you know them, they’re the ones in Highgate. It sold for an extra quarter of a million pounds. I drove up there yesterday to take a look and there’s a sign up saying they’re building eight luxury houses there.’

  Luke gave a low whistle. ‘So basically, it was turned?’

  ‘I’m learning to hate that expression, but yes. I don’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of it all, but the land was originally bought by a company called Hampton Estates, who then sold it on to Stantons after they got planning permission. Hampton Estates is owned by Dad and Tony Jordan – and that’s not the only deal Cartwrights have done like that.’

  ‘So what happened when you found the papers?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t say anything to Tony or Simon, but I copied the paperwork and tackled Dad about it that night. He told me I was naive if I didn’t think that sort of thing went on all the time. I felt sick, Luke – that they could con Aunty Anne and Rachael out of money that was rightfully theirs. They’d never have done that if Uncle Pat were still alive. We had a huge row about it and then Dad must have told Tony and Simon that I knew, because that weekend was the weekend Simon asked me to meet him at the pub.’

  She broke off, realising they were entering perilous territory.

  ‘Why did he want to do that?’

  ‘He said he needed to explain it to me, but he didn’t come up with anything I didn’t already know. I told him they were all shits for double-crossing Anne and Rachael like that, but at the end of the day, as he pointed out, my hands were tied unless I was prepared to expose my whole family and drop them in it.’

  ‘And that was the night you and he–? It makes it all the more incredible that you could have done that.’

  She didn’t need him to tell her that. She shrugged, knowing that while she still felt sick with shame over that night, she’d done all the grovelling she intended doing. ‘I don’t understand it myself so why would you? I was so upset about everything I got really pissed, and you know what I can be like when I drink too much. And then suddenly, Simon was there, being really sympathetic. Do you think I wasn’t disgusted with myself the next day – that I haven’t regretted it every minute of every day since?’

  ‘You should have told me straight away.’

  ‘I know, and I wanted to, but I knew what a big deal it was going to be for you. I was just trying to pick the right moment, and then Simon let it out and it was too late.’

  ‘We’re straying off the point.’

  ‘I know you don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘You’re right, I don’t. We’ve talked it to death. You knew how important fidelity was to me. It may seem old-fashioned–’

  ‘Of course it doesn’t. It’s just as important to me. If you knew how bad I feel …’

  For a long moment they stared at each other. Couldn’t he see how much she meant it? How could he not when they knew each other so well?

  ‘Oh, Kirsty.’ Just for a second, she sensed indecision in him, a slight easing in his attitude, and she waited – hope springing pathetically to the surface. But then he shook his head and she knew the moment had passed.

  It brought her back on track, saving her from embarrassing herself by dissolving into tears that would achieve nothing. She straightened up in her seat, remembering why she was here.

  ‘Anyway, after I tackled Rob and Simon about the tenant yesterday, Robbie told me he’d go and visit Tim Burman himself and ask him about Dad’s visit – see if he could throw any light on anything. But …’

  She paused, even now finding it hard to believe what Robbie had done – and even harder telling someone about it. ‘For some reason – when we got there – I saw him deliberately ring the wrong doorbell. He rang Susan Porter’s, knowing she no longer lives there, and then came back to the car and told me there was no reply from Tim Burman’s flat.’

  Luke frowned. ‘Why would he do that? Maybe he made a mistake. Did you ask him?’

  ‘It was no mistake. They’re both clearly marked on separate sides of the front door – and no, I didn’t ask him because I didn’t realise what he’d done until
after he’d gone. But that’s what’s worrying me, Luke. I’m getting the feeling more and more that Robbie’s somehow caught up in all this, and how can I go to the police if my own brother’s involved?’

  ‘That’s some accusation, Kirsty.’

  ‘I know it is. I’m also sure he’d never do anything to hurt anyone, but …’ She took a breath. ‘After he’d driven off, I rang Tim Burman’s bell myself. Some really rough type answered who told me he knew who I was, and basically, he tried to scare me off. That’s how it felt anyway. It was horrible.’

  ‘Who was this guy? Do you want me to speak to him?’

  ‘No. He’s not the sort you’d take on lightly.’

  ‘Kirsty, I don’t like the sound of all this. What are you going to do?’

  It was one of the things she’d always loved about him – that he might advise her, but he never tried to tell her what to do, like Robbie would have done.

  ‘I don’t know. You’re a solicitor, that’s why I needed to talk to you. I mean … how bad is all this stuff for Rob and Mum, if it did come out?’

  Luke’s eyes were serious. ‘The wheeler-dealer stuff is one side of the coin, and if that came out there could be repercussions with the taxman and maybe even the Fraud Squad, depending on what’s gone on, but … You don’t need me to tell you that if Robbie’s connected to that tenant’s death or your father’s in any way, then it’s a totally different matter.’

  ‘I can’t believe he is. You know him, he does get hot under the collar sometimes and stomps around, but I can’t see him standing around while people are getting killed. Especially not his own father.’

  But he could be weak. That was surely why he’d never stood up to their father over all this stuff. And if there were others who had a hold over him – not such nice people…?

  ‘Then go to the police and tell them about the guy in the flat and the fact your father spoke to him.’

  ‘But what if Rob’s been drawn in inadvertently?’

  ‘Only you can answer that, Kirsty. It depends on how important it is to you to find out the truth about what happened to your dad versus the possible implications for Rob and your mother if all the business stuff comes out.’

  She almost groaned out loud. He was only putting into words what she already knew.

  ‘You won’t say anything to anyone? I need to think it through before I decide anything. I’m sorry to drag you into it, but …’ She gave a little smile. ‘Old habits die hard, I guess.’

  He didn’t return her smile. In fact, if anything, his manner became cooler. ‘Yes they do – but sometimes it just needs to be done. I won’t say anything, but for God’s sake be careful and don’t take any risks. A lot of this could be supposition, but if it isn’t …’

  She nodded. She didn’t need him to tell her it could be dangerous.

  She sighed. Was she any the wiser about what she was going to do?

  Much as she wanted to find out the truth about what had happened to her father, she knew the last thing he’d want was for her to risk exposing her brother and mother – she could almost hear his voice telling her that now.

  So there was her answer. Let it go.

  And perhaps she would – but only at a price. And she’d be speaking to Robbie about that.

  Feeling that at least she’d made some small headway, she turned her gaze back to Luke.

  ‘Thanks for listening. I’m sorry to dump this on you.’

  He shrugged. ‘Just don’t do anything rash – or at least let me know before you do it.’

  ‘Okay, I will.’

  She took a sip from her coffee, then said on a diffident note. ‘How have things been with you?’

  He nodded, accepting the change of subject. ‘Good. They’ve made me an associate. I’m going to specialise in family law.’

  ‘It’s what you wanted.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He hesitated, his expression a giveaway, and she waited, suddenly guessing what was coming and not wanting to hear it.

  ‘I should probably tell you that I’m bringing a friend to Rachael’s wedding. Her name’s Eleanor Rothby. She’s one of the secretaries at the office and she had reasons why she didn’t want to be at home that day. We’re only friends – but I thought you should know.’

  So much for Rachael’s confident assertion that he hadn’t met anyone.

  ‘Oh, right. Cool. I’m glad you’ve moved on so quickly.’

  ‘It’s been nine months, Kirsty – and she is only a friend.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Her voice was flippant, as if she didn’t mind at all. ‘Really. Thanks for telling me.’

  ‘What about you? Anyone in your life?’

  ‘No.’

  She looked at her watch. She’d been going to tell him about the latest development about her mother and Rob and Daniel Curtis, but didn’t have the heart for it now. Scraping back her chair, she rose from the table. ‘I won’t hold you up any longer. Thanks for coming. It’s been helpful running things past you.’

  ‘Remember what I said about being careful?’

  ‘I will. See you at the wedding, then.’

  And with a careless little wave she walked away from him, hoping he hadn’t picked up on her utter sense of desolation.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Harry looked at the empty plates on the table and made to jump up and help Claire clear them away, but before he could move, Claire’s mother’s arm stayed him.

  ‘No, no love. You did your bit before we all arrived. You stay put and leave this to us. We’ll be back in a minute with the coffee.’

  She had the same blue eyes as Claire, and the same no-nonsense air about her that made him decide not to argue with her. But apart from the eyes, physically there was little similarity. Her hair was blonde instead of chestnut, her face rounder, and she was a couple of inches shorter than her daughter.

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth than it seemed a whole army of people swept into action as Claire’s two sisters-in-law also jumped up and started to clear the plates and glasses, amongst much laughter and chatter.

  A small tug on his sleeve had him looking down at six-year-old Ben, who was staring up at him in awe.

  ‘Have you got a gun in your pocket?’

  Harry smiled. ‘Not today.’

  ‘Where’s your uniform?’

  ‘I don’t wear one. I’m not that sort of policeman.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’m a detective and detectives don’t wear uniforms.’

  ‘I want to be a ’tective’ when I grow up. I’m very good at ’membering’ things. Aren’t I, Daddy?’

  Claire’s oldest brother, Mike, ruffled his son’s hair. ‘You certainly are, sport. He knows the names of twenty-one different dinosaurs,’ he added, not without some pride.

  By the time Ben had finished rattling off all twenty-one names, Claire’s mother, Helen, had returned to say that coffee was being taken through to the lounge.

  ‘So where are your parents, Harry?’ Helen asked. ‘Are they local?’

  ‘No. They’ve lived abroad for most of my life and they’re currently living near Cairo. My father’s an archaeologist.’

  ‘What an interesting life, though I’m not sure I’d like to be living in Cairo at the moment. Did you travel much with them when you were younger?’

  ‘Not really. I went to boarding school over here and lived with my grandparents in the holidays – although of course, I did visit Mum and Dad in some of the countries they were in.’

  ‘Ah, right.’

  Simple enough words, but he had the feeling that Helen was more astute than most and would pick up on the sense of disorientation that had brought to his life. He’d never given it much thought, finding it easier to park the issues he suspected could be lurking beneath the surface of his conscious mind. But seeing the easy camaraderie between Claire and her family, the way they chatted about mutual acquaintances and shared memories … For the first time it brought it ho
me to him how devoid his life had been of people who mattered.

  Apart from his grandparents, there’d not really been anyone.

  He’d got friends of course. And they were good mates – most of them from his university days, a couple through his work. His old school friends he rarely saw, as they were dotted around the country and always had been, though they tried to meet up a couple of times a year. His job had seen to it, of course, that he didn’t always make those reunions.

  Claire, it seemed on the other hand, had a million friends going right back to her cradle. He liked the idea of that – envied the sense of roots it seemed to have given her.

  ‘So how long have you and Claire been seeing each other?’ Mike asked, topping up his coffee. Of her two brothers, he was the most like Claire – and her father – with the same brown hair. Her other brother, Tom, was blond like Helen.

  Claire flicked a mischievous glance at Harry before moving her eyes back to her brother and answering for him. ‘We’re not dating, Mike. We’re just mates. I roped Harry into giving me a hand for when you lot arrived in exchange for a decent meal.’

  ‘And delicious it was, too,’ Harry said. ‘You can rope me in anytime.’

  ‘Of course it was,’ Helen said with a wink. ‘She was taught by the best.’

  Everyone laughed, including Claire, who shook her head. ‘I’m not going to deny that, Mama. You are, without doubt, the best.’

  An hour later, after they’d gone, Harry helped Claire clear away the final bits and pieces.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ she protested. ‘You’ve done more than your fair share today.’

  ‘I’m happy to. I’ve enjoyed it. Your family are great. Your dad’s very quiet, though, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah. Years of being shouted down by the rest of us, I think.’ She looked at him ruefully. ‘It wasn’t too much for you? We can be a bit overwhelming at times when we’re en masse, and while I’m used to it and enjoy it, I know others aren’t always of the same mind.’

  He wondered if there was more to that statement than met the eye. A previous partner perhaps, who’d found it an issue?

 

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