Be Careful What You Wish For: The Clifton Chronicles 4 (5 page)

The moment Emma parked her Austin A30 in the hospital car park Jessica would jump out, her latest picture under one arm, a bar of Cadbury’s milk chocolate in her other hand, and run all
the way to Sebastian’s bedside. Emma didn’t believe that anyone could love her son more than she did, but if anyone did, it was Jessica.

When Emma entered the ward a few minutes later, she was surprised and delighted to find Sebastian out of bed for the first time, and sitting in an armchair. The moment he saw his mother, he
pushed himself up, steadied himself, and kissed her on both cheeks; another first. When does that moment come, Emma wondered, when mothers stop kissing their children, and young men start kissing
their mothers?

Jessica was telling her brother in great detail what she’d been up to during the week, so Emma perched herself on the end of the bed and happily listened to her exploits for a second time.
Once she’d stopped talking long enough for Sebastian to get a word in, he turned to his mother and said, ‘I reread the minutes of the latest board meeting this morning. You do realize
that the chairman will call for a vote at the next meeting, and this time you won’t be able to avoid making a decision on whether to go ahead with building the
Buckingham
.’

Emma didn’t comment as Jessica turned round and began to draw the old man who was sleeping in the next bed.

‘I would do the same if I were in his position,’ continued Sebastian. ‘So who do you think will win?’

‘No one will win,’ said Emma, ‘because whatever the outcome, the board will remain divided until it can be shown who was right.’

‘Let’s hope not, because I think you’ve got a far bigger problem staring you right in the face, and one that will need you and the chairman to be working in harmony.’

‘Fisher?’

Sebastian nodded. ‘And God knows how he’ll vote when it comes to whether or not you should build the
Buckingham
.’

‘Fisher will vote whichever way Don Pedro Martinez instructs him to.’

‘How can you be sure that it was Martinez, and not Lady Virginia, who bought those shares?’ asked Sebastian.

‘According to William Hickey in the
Daily Express
, Virginia is going through another messy divorce at the moment, so you can be sure she’ll be concentrating on how much
maintenance she can extract from the Count of Milan before she decides how to spend it. In any case, I have my own reasons for believing that Martinez is behind the latest round of share
buying.’

‘I’d already come to that conclusion myself,’ said Sebastian, ‘because one of the last things Bruno told me, when we were in the car on the way to Cambridge, was that his
father had had a meeting with a major, and he overheard the name “Barrington” come up during their conversation.’

‘If that’s true,’ said Emma, ‘Fisher will support the chairman, if for no other reason than to get back at Giles for preventing him becoming a Member of
Parliament.’

‘Even if he does, don’t assume he’ll want the building of the
Buckingham
to progress smoothly. Far from it. He’ll switch sides whenever he thinks he has an
opportunity to harm the company’s short-term finances or long-term reputation. Forgive the cliché, but leopards don’t change their spots. Just remember that his overall aim is
exactly the opposite of yours. You want the company to succeed, he wants it to fail.’

‘Why would he want that?’

‘I suspect you know the answer to that question only too well, Mama.’ Sebastian waited to see how she would respond, but Emma simply changed the subject. ‘How come you’re
suddenly so full of wisdom?’

‘I have daily lessons at the foot of an expert. And what’s more, I’m his only pupil,’ Sebastian added without explanation.

‘And what does your expert advise that I should do, if I want the board to back me and vote against building the
Buckingham
?’

‘He’s come up with a plan that would ensure you win the vote at the next board meeting.’

‘That’s not possible while the board is so evenly divided.’

‘Oh, it’s possible,’ said Sebastian, ‘but only if you’re willing to play Martinez at his own game.’

‘What do you have in mind?’

‘As long as the family are in possession of twenty-two per cent of the company’s stock,’ continued Sebastian, ‘you have the right to appoint two more directors to the
board. So all you have to do is co-opt Uncle Giles and Aunt Grace, and they can support you when it comes to the crucial vote. That way you can’t lose.’

‘I could never do that,’ said Emma.

‘Why not, when so much is at stake?’

‘Because it would undermine Ross Buchanan’s position as chairman. If he lost such an important vote because the family had ganged up against him, he would be left with no choice but
to resign. And I suspect other directors would follow him.’

‘But that might be the best outcome for the company in the long run.’

‘Possibly, but I must be seen to win the argument on the day, and not have to rely on fixing the vote. That’s the sort of cheap trick Fisher would stoop to.’

‘My dear Mama, no one could admire you more than I do for always taking the moral high road, but when you’re dealing with the Martinezes of this world, you have to understand that
they have no morals, and will always be happy to take the low road. In fact, he’d crawl into the nearest gutter if he thought it would ensure he’d win the vote.’

A long silence followed, until Sebastian said, very quietly, ‘Mama, when I woke for the first time after the accident, I found Don Pedro standing at the end of the bed.’ Emma
shuddered. ‘He was smiling, and said, “How are you my boy?” I shook my head, and it was only then that he realized I wasn’t Bruno. The look he gave me before he marched off
was something I will never forget for the rest of my life.’ Still Emma said nothing. ‘Mama, don’t you think the time has come to tell me why Martinez is so determined to bring our
family to its knees? Because it wasn’t too difficult to work out that he meant to kill me on the A1, and not his own son.’

You’re always so impatient, Sergeant Warwick, said the pathologist as he studied the body more closely.

But are you at least able to tell me just how long the body has been in the water? asked the detective.

Harry was crossing out the word
just
and changing
has
to
had
, when the phone rang. He put down his pen and picked up the receiver.

‘Yes,’ he said somewhat abruptly.

‘Harry, it’s Harold Guinzburg. Congratulations, you’re number eight this week.’ Harold rang every Thursday afternoon to let Harry know where he would feature on the
bestseller list that Sunday. ‘That’s nine weeks in a row in the top fifteen.’

Harry had been at number 4 a month ago, the highest position he’d ever managed, and although he didn’t admit it even to Emma, he still hoped to join that select group of British
writers who’d made it to the top on both sides of the Atlantic. The last two William Warwick mysteries had been number 1 in Britain, but the top spot in the States still eluded him.

‘Sales figures are all that really matter,’ said Guinzburg, almost as if he was reading Harry’s thoughts. ‘And in any case, I’m confident that you’ll climb
even higher when the softback comes out in March.’ Harry didn’t miss the words
even higher
and not
to number one
. ‘How’s Emma?’

‘Preparing a speech on why the company shouldn’t be building a new luxury liner at the present time.’

‘Doesn’t sound like a bestseller to me,’ said Harold. ‘So tell me, how’s Sebastian coming along?’

‘He’s in a wheelchair. But his surgeon assures me not for much longer, and they’re allowing him out for the first time next week.’

‘Bravo. Does that mean he’ll be going home?’

‘No, Matron won’t allow him to travel that far yet; perhaps a trip to Cambridge to visit his tutor, and have tea with his aunt.’

‘Sounds worse than school to me. Still, it can’t be too long before he finally escapes.’

‘Or is thrown out. I’m not sure which will come first.’

‘Why would they want to throw him out?’

‘One or two of the nurses have begun taking a greater interest in Seb as each bandage comes off, and I’m afraid he isn’t discouraging them.’

‘The dance of the seven veils,’ said Harold. Harry laughed. ‘Is he still hoping to go up to Cambridge in September?’

‘As far as I can tell, yes. But he’s changed so much since the accident, nothing would surprise me.’

‘How has he changed?’

‘Nothing I can put a finger on. It’s just that he’s matured in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible a year ago. And I think I’ve discovered why.’

‘Sounds intriguing.’

‘It certainly is. I’ll fill you in on the details when I next come to New York.’

‘Do I have to wait that long?’

‘Yes, because it’s like my writing, I have no idea what will happen when I turn the page.’

‘So tell me about our one girl in a million.’

‘Not you as well,’ said Harry.

‘Please tell Jessica that I’ve hung her drawing of the Manor House in autumn in my study, next to a Roy Lichtenstein.’

‘Who’s Roy Lichtenstein?’

‘He’s the latest fad in New York, but I can’t see him lasting too long. In my opinion Jessica’s a far better draughtsman. Please tell her that if she’ll paint me a
picture of New York in the fall, I’ll give her a Lichtenstein for Christmas.’

‘I wonder if she’s heard of him.’

‘Before I ring off, dare I ask how the latest William Warwick novel is progressing?’

‘It would be progressing a damn sight faster if I wasn’t continually interrupted.’

‘Sorry,’ said Harold. ‘They didn’t tell me you were writing.’

‘Truth is, Warwick has come up against an insurmountable problem. Or to be more accurate, I have.’

‘Anything I can help you with?’

‘No. That’s why you’re the publisher and I’m the author.’

‘What sort of problem?’ persisted Harold.

‘Warwick’s found the ex-wife’s body at the bottom of a lake, but he’s fairly sure that she was killed before being dumped in the water.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘Mine, or William Warwick’s?’

‘Warwick’s first.’

‘He’s being made to wait for at least twenty-four hours before he can get his hands on the pathologist’s report.’

‘And your problem?’

‘I’ve got twenty-four hours before I have to decide what needs to be in that report.’

‘Does Warwick know who killed the ex-wife?’

‘He can’t be sure. There are five suspects at the moment, and every one of them has a motive . . . and an alibi.’

‘But I presume you know who did it?’

‘No I don’t,’ Harry admitted. ‘Because if I don’t know, then neither can the reader.’

‘Isn’t that a bit of a risk?’

‘Sure is. But it also makes it a damn sight more challenging, both for me and the reader.’

‘I can’t wait to read the first draft.’

‘Neither can I.’

‘Sorry. I’ll let you get back to your ex-wife’s body in the lake. I’ll call again in a week’s time to see if you’ve worked out who dumped her
there.’

When Guinzburg hung up, Harry replaced the receiver and looked down at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. He tried to concentrate.

So what’s your opinion, Percy?

Too early to make an accurate assessment. I’ll need to get her back to the lab and carry out some more tests before I can give you a considered judgement.

When can I expect to get your preliminary report? asked Warwick.

You’re always so impatient, William . . .

Harry looked up. He suddenly realized who’d committed the murder.

Although Emma hadn’t been willing to accept Sebastian’s suggestion that she should co-opt Giles and Grace on to the board to ensure she couldn’t lose the
crucial vote, she still considered it her duty to keep her brother and sister up-to-date on what was going on. Emma was proud to represent the family on the board, although she knew only too well
that neither of her siblings was particularly interested in what went on behind closed doors at Barrington’s, as long as they received their quarterly dividends.

Giles was preoccupied with his responsibilities at the House of Commons, which had become even more demanding after Hugh Gaitskell had invited him to join the Shadow Cabinet, to cover the
European portfolio. This meant that he was rarely seen in his constituency, despite being expected to nurse a marginal seat while at the same time regularly visiting those countries that had a vote
on whether Britain should be allowed to join the EEC. However, Labour had been ahead in the opinion polls for several months, and it was looking increasingly likely that Giles would become a
Cabinet minister after the next election. So the last thing he needed was to be distracted by ‘trouble at t’mill’.

Harry and Emma were delighted when Giles had finally announced his engagement to Gwyneth Hughes, not in
The Times’
social column, but at the Ostrich public house in the heart of
his constituency.

‘I want to see you married before the next election,’ declared Griff Haskins, his constituency agent. ‘And if Gwyneth could be pregnant by the first week of the campaign, that
would be even better.’