False Diamond - An Abbot Agency Mystery Read online

  Bea treated him to an old-fashioned look. ‘So why don’t you want to get involved in the firm? Surely you’re the best person to sort them out?’

  ‘Let me explain. I was an inconvenient afterthought for my parents, looked after by an au pair till I was old enough to be dumped in boarding schools, not good at games, not particularly clever, too scruffy to be of use in the training college. I got out as soon as I could. Do you blame me?’

  ‘Not at all.’ The sandwiches were delicious. Not from the local corner shop.

  ‘A schoolfriend’s father had a dry-cleaning business which he wanted to offload on to his son. Son refused to touch it, as he was set on going to university. My family didn’t think it would be worthwhile supporting me after I’d turned eighteen …’

  Bea narrowed her eyes. In her book he was more than bright enough.

  ‘So I needed to earn a living. I was offered a job and a room above the dry-cleaning shop and took it. I like smoothing out the creases in life for people. Spreading a little happiness. Returning clean clothes for soiled. I reorganized and repainted, I advertised, I made a success of that first shop, borrowed money to buy it, found another, got a loan to buy up the second shop’s lease and did the same thing … and so it went on. I didn’t tell my family that I was doing all right for myself, thank you, because they’d written me off as a dropout. In the early years I used to turn up for funerals but decided life was too short to spend time with people who kept referring to me as the Black Sheep of the family.

  ‘I wasn’t invited to my niece’s wedding. I gather it was a hurriedly arranged affair. The only Holland who’s ever tried to keep in touch with me is my sister Sybil. She has a strong sense of family duty, which I lack. Despite her age, she is pretty spry and keeps up with the modern world. Better, in my opinion, than my brother does. She used to email me several times a year with news of the family. She says – and I think she’s probably right – that my brother ought to have retired some years ago. He has some vascular problem, walks with difficulty, hardly ever leaves the house. Over the years he’s expanded into different areas: car hire, laundromats, employment agencies, that sort of thing, which he runs under the umbrella of Holland Holdings. He and Sybil are the main shareholders in each of the companies, though a few friends and some of the senior staff have been given shares now and then. He employs a small staff at headquarters to manage the finances and the PR, and he appoints general managers to run each company. Recently he has, I believe, relied too much on a favourite few to run his organization … but there, he tells me he keeps them on their toes by swapping the managers around from one branch of the organization to another.’

  ‘Gracious!’ Bea’s mind went into free-fall, thinking of the manager of a hire-car firm suddenly being asked to run … ‘Ah. Is that what happened to Holland and Butcher?’

  ‘Correct. He relies on that particular firm for servants to keep his household running smoothly. For years he had a general manager who was reasonably competent and kept the house going. When that man retired, my brother appointed a man named Butcher, who turned out to be a poor choice.’

  Bea grimaced. ‘Indeed. He’s currently languishing in prison. And this man Benton came from where? Don’t tell me! The hire-car firm?’

  ‘Exactly. My brother appears to promote people who promise him the earth, so long as he himself doesn’t have to make any effort. His companies have done well enough for him in the past but they’ve all taken a dip in the recession, and this has affected the dividends upon which my sister lives. Holland and Butcher’s results have been spectacularly bad. Sybil contacted me when she found that her dividend there had been cut to the bone. She wanted me to do something about it. I declined. She announced she was coming over from the States to sort things out. She ordered me to meet her to discuss it.’

  ‘So you did.’

  He refilled her glass and his. ‘Cheers. Yes, that was a mistake, wasn’t it? But I was at a loose end. I’d had a good offer for the dry-cleaning chain and was trying to decide whether or not to sell. I’ve always worked. What would I do with my time if I sold out? I’d almost decided to carry on when …’ He looked into his drink.

  ‘Everything changed, overnight. I’d had a twenty-five-year relationship with a businesswoman who refused to marry me, didn’t know how to cook and didn’t care to try, but was a wonderful companion and great in bed. She had an aneurysm. Nothing could have been done. No one knew anything about it. The day after the funeral I signed the papers to get rid of the dry-cleaner’s and put the house we’d shared on to the market. I took a short lease out on a service flat and moved into it, but didn’t unpack. I thought I might take a long holiday. I thought it was probably stupid of me to look up the family, but when my sister actually phoned me – something she’d never done in all those years – I decided to look them up.

  ‘I rang my brother, said I was thinking of spending a few days in London. True to form, he said immediately that he didn’t have any room for me – despite living in a country mansion – since our sister was going to be moving in with him for the duration of her visit. I didn’t tell him that I’d fully intended to book myself into Claridge’s or the Ritz and treat myself for once, because he seemed to think I’d need a bed and breakfast somewhere cheap. He said that his right-hand man, Benton, would make arrangements for me to stay somewhere suitable.

  ‘Benton duly rang and asked me to have lunch with him. A steak house. Medium rare, as you might say. Not first rate but middling. It was clear he’d been making enquiries about me, knew I’d sold my company. He went on about how H & B was in great shape but needed capital to take over a domestic agency. He said it was divine providence that I would be able to join the board of directors and invest in the family business at this point in time. I knew rather more about the poor balance sheet than he imagined and I’d taken a dislike to him so, in a moment of divine inspiration, I informed him that I was head over ears in hock to the Inland Revenue. That I was, in fact, an undischarged bankrupt. You should have seen his face!’

  Bea felt her mouth curve into a smile. ‘His research hadn’t been as thorough as yours?’

  ‘He’s an idiot. I thought he’d brush me off and that would be the end of it, but no. After another brandy he said I must be finding life very uncomfortable, and he invited me to stay with him and Dilys. I must admit I’d envisaged a large detached house with a double garage, and guest bedrooms en suite. I thought my niece would be serving up home-cooked food and hanging on my every word. I’d never even met her children. I had nothing better to do, so I thought, why not? Just for a few days. Take them all out for a meal or something by way of payment. What he didn’t tell me was that the house is tiny, shabby, cold and uncomfortable, that the two boys are badly behaved little hooligans, and that my great niece had been moved out of her tiny bedroom to make way for me. Oh, and there’s only one bathroom for six people, though I believe there is a shower in the master bedroom.’

  His tragic expression made Bea laugh. ‘So why haven’t you moved out?’

  ‘I ask myself that a dozen times a day. I tell myself that I am not of a sentimental disposition. I do not turn soft when confronted with stray kittens and homeless waifs. I am a hard-headed businessman who has got along very well all these years without needing any contact with my family.’

  ‘You’re concerned about Dilys?’

  He threw up his hands. ‘The air in that house is full of cross-currents. Stinging retorts whistle past my back, morphing into smiles when I turn around. The two boys despise and taunt their mother and sister. They don’t go so far as to hit them yet. I hope. But they jostle and push them around. All this originates with Benton, of course. He tweaks the little girl’s hair. Both she and Dilys flinch when he gets close. He apologized to me for them, saying how stupid they are.

  ‘I tell myself this has nothing to do with me, that Dilys wouldn’t thank me for trying to rescue her, that you can’t help people who are born to be victims. When Sybil dragg
ed us along to meet you, it did occur to me that you could save them if you wished, though I could see that you didn’t want to. Naturally, I applauded you for that. Sensible, very.’

  ‘But …?’

  ‘Well, I fancy you something rotten, as you must realize. You remind me so much of my ex.’

  Bea was amused and even flattered. She told herself to be wary of a man who used the best butter so lavishly, and who had just admitted to telling a thumping lie to Benton. She repeated, ‘But …?’

  ‘My niece was first down this morning. She switched on the toaster and got a nasty shock. It might have killed her.’

  Silence. Bea froze in mid-chew. What was it with toasters? Might she have given herself a shock when she’d fiddled with hers that morning?

  He took the last sandwich and bit into it. Poured them both out some more of the bubbly apple drink.

  Bea finished off her mouthful. ‘You think he engineered it?’ She tried to sound incredulous, and failed.

  A shrug. ‘She had to sit down. She was shaking. He was not sympathetic. He let fly with a tirade about how stupid she was with anything practical. He said he’s had to restrain her from poking into the toaster with a metal knife before now. She dissolved into tears, tried to hide them. He made her repeat after him that she was a silly little thing who ought not to be allowed out by herself. The boys almost choked with laughter. The little girl went so pale, I thought she’d vomit all over the kitchen table. Her name is Bernice, and she appears to be reasonably intelligent. Neither she nor her mother could eat any breakfast. My niece may be a silly little chit, but she doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her.’

  Bea remembered what Max had said about Benton getting rid of Dilys. Bea had jumped to the conclusion that Benton planned to divorce his wife. She hadn’t thought of murder. ‘Do you think that he planned to have you staying in the house as an impartial witness when an “accident” kills her?’

  A level gaze from eyes which were more hazel than brown. ‘What do you think?’

  She did not want to get involved. ‘I have no idea. There is always gossip, of course.’ She brushed a crumb off her lap. ‘Supposition. Rumour. Slander.’

  ‘Who is your rumour-monger? You have proof?’

  She shook her head. ‘A loose wire may be no more than a loose wire. Loose talk costs money.’

  One of the office girls came in with a cafetière of coffee and some cups on a tray. She said to Leon, ‘We want to thank you, all of us. It was a lovely thought.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ Another charming smile. The girl left, also smiling.

  Bea poured coffee.

  He said, ‘Oops. I’ve forgotten the after-dinner mints.’

  ‘It’s lunchtime.’

  ‘We’ll have to make sure we have some after dinner tonight, then.’

  ‘Not tonight. Soon, perhaps.’ She sat back in her chair and tried to think. Max was in trouble, needed her to rescue him … and if she didn’t, if she did nothing, then he’d take out a loan at prohibitive interest rates, knowing him … and lose his money, because Benton was not the man to rescue the fortunes of H & B, was he?

  She said, ‘Why don’t you accept their offer, take charge of the firm and get rid of Benton?’

  ‘Throwing good money after bad? I know nothing about that sort of business. It would be a disaster. Besides, why should I?’

  She grimaced. ‘You want me to pull your chestnuts out of the fire for you instead?’

  He grinned. ‘It’s worth a try, isn’t it? You have all the skills needed, you dislike Benton and you don’t like the thought of Dilys being hounded to her death. Plus, you’re already involved through Max.’

  Bea looked at the clock. ‘I have a three o’clock appointment. Someone’s references haven’t checked out and I’m not going to find the woman a job until I know what’s happened. I don’t take anyone on without references, you see.’

  ‘From me, you mean?’ He produced a couple of cards and laid them on her desk. ‘You can check out the sale of my business and my house, if you wish. I believe that sort of information can be accessed through the Internet. Of course, I could be deep in debt and these sales might be keeping me from a debtor’s court. Now, how do you check that?’

  ‘Have we a mutual friend or acquaintance?’

  ‘How about my member of parliament? I’m an active and generous supporter of the Liberal party, so he’ll remember me. What else? Do you need a reference as to my character? I promise you I have contracted no particular disease; I am a member of a gym, swim several times a week but don’t do press-ups or weightlifting.’

  Bea tried not to laugh. ‘What about your morals?’

  He raised his hands in mock indignation. ‘No grubbier than most. I am told I was baptized, I know I was confirmed, but I can’t say I go to church on Sundays, except at Christmas and Easter. I sleep soundly, I enjoy my meals and a glass or two of beer in the evenings. I like the Beatles but not the Rolling Stones. I adore Gilbert and Sullivan but abhor Wagner. I read James Patterson, but not Dostoevsky. Will that do?’

  Now she did laugh. ‘I will check, you know.’

  ‘So you should.’ There was a tap on the door, and he stood. ‘Your appointment, I assume. May I call for you at eight this evening?’

  She nodded, forgetting she’d intended to keep him at arm’s length for a while. Well, why not? ‘Nothing elaborate. A steak house, perhaps? Oh, and about Dilys. My experience is that you can’t rescue those who are in thrall to their abuser.’

  ‘So you get at it another way, by eliminating the abuser.’

  How on earth did he think that could be done?

  She dealt with her visitor – no references, no job, sorry – and turned back to her computer to check Leon out. Yes, and yes. The dry cleaning business had existed, he’d been the sole proprietor, it had sold … yes … and for a nice sum, too. The house was still on the market but it had been priced at over two million, so … Difficult to check on debts, though.

  She hesitated about ringing Max, but did eventually do so. ‘Dear Max, I’m trying to check up on one of the Holland clan. Do you happen to be acquainted with the member of parliament for … I have the name here somewhere. One of the Exeter constituencies. He’s a Liberal Democrat, so you may not—?’

  ‘Which Holland? The one who’s just crawled out from under a stone? Benton says he’s no good to us. He hasn’t been in touch with you, has he? The nerve of the man!’

  ‘He’s been to see me, yes. He’s staying with Benton, it seems, and—’

  ‘Benton took pity on him. More than I would have done. Mother, don’t let him fool you. He’s an undischarged bankrupt looking for a handout. He hasn’t asked you for a loan yet, has he?’

  ‘Nothing like that. He’s invited me out for a meal this evening.’

  ‘Mother! What are you like! You’ll be landed with the bill.’

  She was silent. She didn’t think she would be landed with the bill. She didn’t think Leon was an undischarged bankrupt. Only a tiny wriggle of common sense insisted that she check him out before she saw him again. But perhaps Max wasn’t the best person to ask?

  She said, ‘I’ll remember to take my cards with me, in case he defaults.’

  ‘Whatever will you do next!’ He cut the connection.

  Bea made a childish face at the phone, dialled the House of Commons and asked to speak to the Liberal Democrat member for Exeter. The West Country was a Lib Dem stronghold and there were three who might fit the bill. She quoted the address of his house and was passed to a secretary who was regretfully unable to give out any information about … But if she liked to write in …? No, sir was not available at the moment.

  Bea wondered what else she had expected.

  So she rang the man who knew everything and was discreet about it. ‘CJ, a small problem. I am trying to keep out of the Holland and Butcher fiasco, but there’s been a development which may lead to the involvement of the police. I’ve been contacted by a man called Leon Holl
and, long estranged from the main branch of the family, who is concerned about the health and safety of Benton’s wife. He may be right to worry, but he’s an odd customer and I can’t say that I trust him altogether.

  ‘I’ve tried to check up on him as far as I can. He’s just sold his business and put his house on the market and that all seems above board, but I need a character reference before I decide whether or not to take him seriously. He says he’s a Lib Dem supporter for a certain constituency in Exeter, and his member of parliament will vouch for him. Unfortunately, said member’s secretary won’t give me the time of day.’

  ‘A man can give money to a political party and yet not be someone you’d wish to leave alone in a room with the family silver. You don’t trust him?’

  ‘He’s an interesting personality, not easy to read. I’m not sure what I feel about him.’

  ‘You are attracted to him?’

  She tried on a laugh for size. ‘I wouldn’t go as far as that.’

  A pause. Bea could hear him tapping … on his desk? He had long fingers, very clean nails, always manicured. She made a note to book herself in for a manicure tomorrow. He said, ‘Leave it with me.’

  So she did.

  Thursday evening

  Bea hoped that Maggie would return before Leon came to collect her for the evening, but there was no sign of the girl by the time the office closed for the evening.

  Oh well. Time for a shower and to decide what she should wear. Nothing too flashy, something warm but of good quality.

  Bea took care with her make-up, reminding herself yet again to make another appointment with her manicurist. She decided that a fawn and white cashmere sweater with a cowl neck would be warm enough for a casual winter date, teamed with her favourite caramel skirt, which was long enough to cover the tops of her boots.

  Bea loved boots. She had a collection of them, long, medium and short. These particular boots were new and in suede, soft as silk. She zipped them up to the knee and checked that her skirt hung correctly. She hesitated about whether to wear jewellery or not. She always wore the wedding ring Hamilton had given her, and during work hours she wore costume jewellery: a stickpin on a collar and a string of beads, or a modern pendant to match whatever it was she was wearing. Now she pinned on an antique gold brooch in the shape of a flower and, not without hesitation, pushed her diamond engagement ring on to her finger. She was aware that she was sending various messages to Leon by wearing her engagement ring. She was reminding him that she still thought of her deceased husband, and she was also reminding him that Dilys’s ring was not all that it ought to be.