The Perfect Life

by Valerie Keogh

She shook her head. ‘I agree, I was checking to see if there were any messages from our children, Freya and Remi. They’re supposed to contact us every day, they know I worry if I don’t hear from them.’ She looked at it for a second before dropping it on top of the cushion with a resigned shrug. ‘Nothing from them yet. You remember, they’re abroad. Freya is in…’ She shook her head and gave a half laugh. ‘D’you know, I can’t remember where she is, but Remi is definitely in… the States, somewhere in the States.’ Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember exactly where they both were, then shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter, they’re really enjoying themselves. At least our mess won’t have any impact on them.’

  She closed her eyes briefly before bringing a trembling hand to her forehead. ‘I feel terrible. I might go up to bed in a minute, but first, tell me, do you know why Jack was suspended?’

  Charlie sipped his wine. ‘I suppose it will do no harm to tell you now. Unfortunately, some busybody in the office noticed a discrepancy in the finances. Money was being creamed off a few accounts. Not much, you understand, and only from people who really wouldn’t notice the loss.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘Jack embezzled?’

  ‘Such an ugly word,’ he said, ‘but probably appropriate. Except it wasn’t Jack.’

  ‘You!’

  ‘It was easy to persuade people Jack was to blame. I simply dropped a casual word into the right ears, told people I was worried about him, that his gambling problem seemed to be getting out of hand.’ He gave a casual wave. ‘It was really very easy.’

  She frowned. ‘But they didn’t fire him outright or call the police.’

  He swirled the last drop of wine around the glass. ‘Don’t be silly, I knew that wasn’t going to happen, it would have worried investors. Being on suspension is a much more subtle way of getting rid of someone. People are already saying Jack who? Another week or two on suspension, it will be as if he’d never worked there, and once the investigation is finished and they’ve found the proof they need, he’ll be quietly fired and arrested.’

  Molly felt like the room was spinning and the ground falling from under her. Her mouth was dry, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. It was hard to get the words out. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to be engulfing her, but when she opened them again nothing was clearer. She felt a shiver of fear; this man with his cruel calculating eyes bore little resemblance to the smiling cheerful Charlie she’d met socially over the years. ‘But they’ll find Jack wasn’t to blame, won’t they? They’ll find out it was you.’

  ‘Oh no, before that happens, I’ll have put the money back. Once they discover the figures balance, they won’t investigate much deeper. But they will be suspicious, and Jack will still be fired.’ Charlie shrugged dismissively. ‘A casualty of war, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I don’t understand. If you have the money, why can’t you put it back now and save him.’

  ‘Because, you stupid bitch, thanks to you, I don’t have the damn money yet!’ He stood and paced the room, running a hand through his hair and looking increasingly wild.

  While he had his back to her, Molly looked toward the open door to the hallway. It seemed so near, but she knew she couldn’t make it. Even if every bone in her body didn’t ache, her head felt increasingly woolly. None of what Charlie was saying made much sense, but she couldn’t ignore the warning bells that were clanging in her ears.

  She closed her eyes, opening them quickly and meeting his, only inches away. ‘Thanks to me? I don’t understand.’

  Charlie flopped onto the sofa beside her. ‘Lucien Pleasant. Does the name ring a bell?’ When Molly gasped, he laughed. ‘When Jack told me about your trip to Semington and mentioned that you liked to go running early in the morning, I knew I could organise something effective.’

  It was getting harder and harder to make sense of anything. She tried to focus. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean effective?’

  He scowled. ‘He was supposed to kill you, you stupid cow. I hired Pleasant to kill you.’

  34

  Molly looked at Charlie, speechless.

  ‘It was a simple plan, and it would have worked if I’d hired someone better than that young gigolo,’ Charlie said, frowning. ‘It should have been easy. All he needed to do was push you into the damn canal, maybe hold your head under for a while. Instead, he rang me to tell me he hadn’t been able to do it.’ Charlie’s top lip curled. ‘He said he’d tried the second morning, but you’d been startled and ran off before he could stop you.’ Reaching across, he picked up her hand and dropped it. ‘You should be sleepier,’ he muttered.

  Molly remembered Pleasant shouting after her. The one word she’d caught, understand. Had he been trying to warn her, was that why he’d wanted to meet her? Maybe he’d discovered it was too big a leap from seducing vulnerable rich women to killing them.

  She felt her skin crawl when Charlie picked up her hand and knew she was on dangerous ground when his words sounded frustrated. Her eyes drooping shut, her chin dropped onto her chest; she struggled to lift it and opened her eyes to stare at him. ‘There was something in those capsules you gave me, wasn’t there?’ Her words were slurred.

  ‘Jack said they made you sleepy. I told you I was going to make sure this time. You are the luckiest woman, but third time lucky is what I say.’

  Third time. ‘It was you who pushed me under the car?’

  ‘It should have worked,’ Charlie growled, ‘and this would all be over.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?’

  He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘I suppose telling you why you need to die is the least I can do. That moronic husband of yours persuaded me to invest a quarter of a million in some foolproof scheme of his. I borrowed the money from the company. If it had worked, we were going to be very rich. I could have returned the money, and nobody would have been any wiser. But his scheme went belly-up, taking all our money with it.’ Standing, Charlie paced the floor restlessly again. ‘He said he’d get my money back and gambled even more, but he was on a losing streak.’ He stood over her. ‘You’re starting to look paler, about bloody time.’

  She knew she was repeating herself, but the only words she seemed able to say were, ‘I don’t understand.’

  Reaching a hand down, he brushed back a lock of her hair. ‘You are quite beautiful, you know, it seems a shame.’ He patted her cheek and moved away. ‘Money, Molly. Your life insurance. Once you die, Jack will get it, and he’ll be able to repay me.’ Charlie smiled unpleasantly. ‘He’ll have no choice; I won’t let him out of my sight until he signs it over.’

  It was almost a relief to know everything. Almost everything. ‘Lucien Pleasant, did you kill him?’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘He insisted on meeting me to explain what had gone wrong. Then he wanted 10K to keep quiet. Luckily, I never go unprepared, and caught him off-guard when I rammed that knife into his belly.’

  Molly stared at the pleasant, unremarkable face of a monster. There was one more question she had to ask, one thing she had to know. ‘Does Jack…?’ She couldn’t continue.

  Charlie turned and gave a short laugh. ‘Does Jack know what I’m planning? Is that what you want to know?’ He sat beside her again, staring at her the way a lab technician would stare at a specimen. ‘He was really cut up about you and Lucien, you know, convinced the two of you had done the horizontal mambo. And of course, I couldn’t tell him the truth because, no, he doesn’t know. He’d never have played along. For one thing, he really loves you, and for another, apart from his gambling habit, he’s a pretty decent guy.’

  ‘I thought you were,’ she said, her voice thick.

  Charlie shook his head. ‘People see what they want to see, haven’t you learned that by now?’ Standing, he reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet, ignoring her whimper of pain. ‘It’s lovely to sit here chatting with you, Molly, but it’s time for the next phase of my plan. A nice hot
bath. When they find you, they’ll assume you got weak and slipped under.’

  ‘Of course,’ she muttered, swaying as she tried to stay on her feet. ‘It has to look like an accident, doesn’t it?’

  He dragged her along. ‘Yes, clever girl, it does. But don’t worry, it will.’

  In the hallway, Molly grabbed hold of the banisters with her free hand. She was damned if she was going to make it easy for him. He merely laughed and yanked her away, laughing harder when she squealed with pain.

  Then she heard it, distant but unmistakeable. The sound of sirens. Charlie was too busy trying to get her up the stairs to notice. Every time he got one hand free, she’d grab onto the banisters with the other. His expression was growing more frustrated, angrier. He was resisting the temptation to hit her, she guessed that wouldn’t last much longer. She needed to keep him occupied until the police got there.

  The sirens were growing louder. Charlie’s head jerked up and he gave a grunt of disbelief before looking down at her face. Whatever he saw there released his rage and with a growl of fury, he raised his hand and punched her.

  She staggered from the blow. Already unsteady, she slipped and tumbled down the stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom. He jumped down beside her and fired a kick at her head, missing when she rolled away and curled up. The sirens were deafening, the police had to be outside. With a vicious yell, Charlie pulled his foot back again and took aim.

  Molly had only one weapon left; she opened her mouth and screamed, a blood-curdling sound that echoed around the hallway.

  It worked. Instead of kicking her, he turned away and looked frantically around. There were shouts from outside the front door. Panicked, he bent down, grabbed her hair and yanked it. ‘Is there another way out?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, gritting her teeth as he wrenched her head harder. ‘Go out the patio door. At the end of the garden there’s a gate that’ll take you out onto the road behind.’ She was lying. The garden was long and narrow and surrounded by a high wall. But it was dark, it would take him a while to discover she’d lied and by then the police would have broken through the front.

  Unfortunately, Charlie wasn’t a fool. His hand still gripping her hair, he dragged her to her feet. ‘Show me,’ he said, pushing her towards the living room.

  Another shout from outside distracted him for a second, and Molly broke free. But she was too slow, he grabbed hold of her shirt and pulled her back, catching hold of her arm and twisting it painfully as he pushed her into the living room, his eyes darting towards the patio door. She yelled out, dragging her feet both from pain and a determination that she would not be taken with him.

  A loud crash was followed by the sound of voices. Charlie, with a final jerk of Molly’s arm, gave up the idea of taking her with him. He shoved her away and ran for the garden.

  Molly lay dazed on the floor as heavy feet came running in, passing her to follow Charlie, shouts and calls fading as they chased after him.

  ‘Where can he go?’ a quiet voice asked, and she looked up to see Fanshawe bending over her.

  She managed a satisfied smile. ‘Nowhere, it’s a walled garden. He can’t escape.’ The pain in her arm easing, she struggled to sit up. Fanshawe put an arm around her waist and helped her to the sofa. ‘You heard everything?’ she said, indicating her phone.

  He nodded. ‘Every word, that was very clever, and very brave of you.’

  ‘It was lucky I’d put your number in speed dial,’ she said, hugging her injured arm to her chest.

  Fanshawe sat in the chair opposite, ignoring the shouts coming from the garden. ‘What about those pills he gave you? Should you go to the hospital?’

  Molly slid her fingers down the side of the sofa, felt around for a few seconds, then pulled up the two capsules Forster had handed her earlier. ‘I don’t like taking pills, so I palmed them. The ones the hospital gave me made me feel very woozy.’ She rolled the capsules on the palm of her hand. ‘I wouldn’t have taken them anyway, but I’m almost certain these aren’t the same ones.’

  Fanshawe pulled an evidence bag from his pocket, opened it and held it out. She knocked them into it. ‘Where do you keep the remainder?’ he asked, holding the bag up to look at the two capsules.

  ‘In the en-suite bathroom cabinet, top of the stairs, first on the left.’

  ‘I’ll get them before I leave, forensics will be able to compare them.’

  ‘He’ll be put away, won’t he?’

  ‘We have him for attempted murder,’ Fanshawe said, ‘and I have no doubt that when we search his home and check his phone and computer, we’ll find enough evidence to prove he murdered Pleasant.’

  Molly gave a long sigh of relief and turned when she heard raised voices and heavy steps.

  Charlie was looking pale and subdued, handcuffs on his wrists, a police officer gripping each arm. He didn’t look at her as they passed by and left through the front door.

  ‘You’ll need to get the Yale lock fixed,’ Fanshawe said, staring after them.

  ‘It’s not a problem, we normally use the sash lock for security anyway.’ She rubbed eyes that were prickling with tiredness and tears.

  ‘We’ll need you to write a statement.’ Fanshawe got to his feet and looked down at her. ‘The sooner you do so the better, but I think tomorrow will be time enough. You look done in.’ He stood a moment more. ‘We would still like to speak to your husband, Mrs Chatwell. He’ll be able to corroborate some of what Mr Forster said.’

  ‘Charlie said he was staying at his place.’ She saw the detective’s surprise. ‘He must have told me before I pressed the speed dial for you.’

  ‘We’ll have a warrant to search Mr Forster’s apartment within an hour. If your husband’s still there I’ll fill him in on what’s happened. I’m sure he’ll want to come home.’

  When Fanshawe left, Molly turned the key in the lock, slipped the security chain in place and hobbled back to the sofa. When Jack heard what had happened, she was sure he’d rush home, there was no point in dragging herself up the stairs.

  Her head ached where Charlie had wrenched her hair. She put a hand up to it and rubbed it gently. She supposed she should feel horror and disbelief that a man she knew had tried to kill her, but all she could seem to feel was intense relief. Jack’s gambling problem, their precarious financial state, they paled into insignificance in comparison.

  Exhausted, she lifted her legs onto the sofa and relaxed back. With her mind whirling, she didn’t think she’d sleep but she did, a restless sleep where Charlie chased her and caught her again and again.

  35

  It was the sunlight filtering through the window that woke Molly and made her push up with a groan of pain. Her phone was on the coffee table, she checked the time. Seven. There was no message from Jack. Perhaps the police had taken longer to get the warrant than they’d expected.

  Carefully and very slowly, she got to her feet. The few hours’ sleep had served to clear her head a little, but they’d made no impact on the pains and aches that seemed to have doubled overnight. It wasn’t surprising considering she’d been dragged, yanked, punched and pulled by a maniac. What was surprising was that she could move at all. She was lucky; her broken rib hadn’t sustained further damage. Reluctantly, she headed to the kitchen, found a packet of paracetamol and swallowed two.

  Later, she’d ring Fanshawe and see what the story was. She had a mug of coffee while she waited for the pills to take the edge off the pain then dragged herself up the stairs. She pulled off her clothes and examined the damage in the mirror. Her body was a mass of old and new bruises. She ran a hand over them; they hurt and probably would for a while.

  A long hot shower eased some of the aches and she felt more herself an hour later as she came back downstairs.

  There was still no message from Jack. She tried ringing, left a voicemail, left a text and threw the phone on the table in frustration. Finally, she could wait no longer and at eight thirty she rang DI Fanshawe. The call was answ
ered immediately, the detective’s voice brisk and alert. At least, she hadn’t woken him. ‘Jack hasn’t come home,’ she said, dispensing with any preliminaries.

  There was a moment’s silence before he answered. ‘We went around to Charlie Forster’s apartment around three,’ he said, ‘there was nobody there. The spare bedroom had obviously been used. I left an officer there, and he reported back about twenty minutes ago. Mr Chatwell hasn’t turned up.’

  Molly’s heart fell. ‘He isn’t answering the phone. Oh God, you don’t think he’s done something stupid, do you?’

  She heard a heavy breath on the line before Fanshawe answered. ‘I’ll have one of my men make some calls, Mrs Chatwell, but I wouldn’t start worrying. There are any number of places he could be, there are far more places to gamble in London than people are aware of. If it’s suitable, I’d like to call around later and get that statement done.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ she answered, her mind on Jack. How could he gamble, he’d no money? ‘I’ll be here whenever you want to come,’ she said and hung up. She tapped the phone against her lips, then did an internet search for casinos. Far more than she expected. Twenty something in central London alone. She tried the first on the list, hanging up moments later with a frustrated grunt. Unsurprising, they weren’t giving out any information. She’d have to rely on DI Fanshawe.

  Restless, she sat on the sofa and switched on the TV for company. A minute later, she switched it off and reached for a book, only to put it down without opening it. What were they going to do? Her eyes drifted around the room, lingering on the furniture, the ornaments, all the lovely things they’d acquired over the years. She’d been wrong; it wasn’t the house or the stuff that was important, it was all the memories attached to them.

  They could make new ones elsewhere. They’d sell up, move out of London and buy something smaller. They’d have a spare bedroom where Freya and Remi could visit. Visit. With a sad smile, she decided it was time she accepted the truth; they were unlikely to ever live at home again. But, if they were happy, that was okay.