Deep Blue Sea (33 page)

48

Postman’s Park had always fascinated Rachel. When she had first arrived in London she had lived in a flat-share in Clerkenwell, and had often strolled there on sunny days to lounge on the grass with a makeshift picnic, enjoying the relative peace of this quiet oasis, the roar of the traffic circling the heart of the City and the jagged remains of Roman Londinium temporarily muffled by the trees and the walls.

She walked over to the sloping shelter against the wall of a block of flats bordering the park to the east. The Memorial To Heroic Self Sacrifice: the thing that made this particular park special and which always sent shivers down Rachel’s spine. Fixed to the wall behind a row of benches was a series of ceramic plaques, each one commemorating the heroism of individuals who had died trying to save other people – the idea being that their sacrifice would never be forgotten. They were poignant, such as ‘Edmund Emery of 272 King’s Road, Chelsea, passenger. Leapt from a Thames steamboat to rescue a child and was drowned, July 31 1874.’ Or they could be strange: ‘Frederick Alfred Croft, Inspector, Aged 31. Saved a lunatic woman from suicide at Woolwich Arsenal Station but was himself run over by the train, Jan 11, 1878.’ But they were always bold and brave.

Rachel had often sat here by the wall, reading about these faceless people’s deeds, wondering if she too would leap into the Thames or dash into a burning building to save the life of, as one plaque put it, ‘a stranger and a foreigner’. She supposed not, but then that would probably have been the answer all these ordinary people would have given before they were faced with a life-or-death situation. You just never knew until it was right there before you, did you?

She heard Elizabeth approach before she saw her, the sound of her heels clacking against the stone path. She was dressed in a tight black skirt and a sky-blue top, her hair scraped back into a bun: just another businesswoman wandering through the City. But was that all she was? Had Susie McCormack been correct? Was she a killer too? Rachel almost smiled at the irony; she had always sneered at scenes like this in pulp thrillers. If you suspected someone was capable of murder, why would you arrange to meet them in some out-of-the-way place where no one could hear you scream? Postman’s Park was not exactly the middle of nowhere, but this early in the morning it was all but deserted.

‘I hope this isn’t a waste of my time,’ said Elizabeth by way of introduction. ‘You do realise the litigation involving Julian’s will is in the hands of our solicitor? I won’t discuss it with you, Rachel.’

‘It’s not about that,’ said Rachel. ‘Not directly, anyway.’ She indicated a wooden bench and they both sat down.

‘So what is it? I haven’t got all day,’ said Elizabeth, glancing at her watch. ‘What’s so important I have to rearrange my diary?’

‘You had an affair with Alistair Hall.’

Rachel watched Elizabeth’s reaction carefully. There was just the slightest tic in her left eye, a recognition that Rachel’s blow had hit home, but the other woman recovered her composure almost immediately.

‘Is that it?’ she laughed. ‘You dragged me out here to discuss old love affairs?’

I very much doubt love had anything to do with it
, thought Rachel.

‘No, Elizabeth,’ she said. ‘I dragged you out here because I wanted to discuss the way you slept with Alistair so you could conspire your way into destroying Julian’s reputation.’

Now that one really did hit home. She could almost see the cogs whirring inside Elizabeth’s head as she tried to work out where Rachel was going with this and, more importantly, how much she knew.

‘Destroy his reputation?’ she scoffed. ‘He did that himself, Rachel, you know that as well as anyone. I didn’t force my brother into bed with that girl; he went of his own accord.’

‘But you provided him with the girl, didn’t you?’

Elizabeth stared at her, the fury evident in her eyes, and now Rachel could see what Susie had been talking about when she had said that Elizabeth was dangerous.

‘Why are you doing this, Rachel?’ she said. ‘Is it guilt? Don’t you think you’ve caused enough damage to this family without throwing around accusations like this?’

‘Why? Because you destroyed Julian’s reputation, because you almost broke up his marriage and because you screwed me over too.’

‘You? What’s any of this got to do with you?’

‘For four years I have tortured myself with the thought that I didn’t try to stop that bloody story. Did I do the right thing? Should I have let Julian get away with it? But all the time you had Alistair Hall in your bed and in your pocket. I wouldn’t have been able to stop it any more than I could stop a meteor hitting the earth.’

Elizabeth waved a hand in the air in a manner that suggested she thought the idea was ridiculous – or beneath her attention.
Yeah?
thought Rachel.
Well screw you too
.

‘I’m going to expose you,’ she said evenly.

Elizabeth snorted out loud. ‘Run another of your sordid little stories in the newspapers? Reveal me as some sort of evil Svengali? How do you think that’s going to go down with Diana? Do you think she wants her husband’s infidelities raked up again?’

Rachel refused to be intimidated. ‘The trouble with people like you, Elizabeth, is that you’re so used to getting your own way, you think everyone can be bought off. But there’s one type of person you can’t threaten – someone who has nothing to lose.’

She let that sink in for a moment.

‘I have no career any more, no credibility with anyone. What exactly are you going to threaten me with?’

Elizabeth shifted in her seat, but her discomfort was only momentary. She was used to getting her own way. There was always a deal to be struck.

‘What is it you want?’ she said finally. ‘You must want something, otherwise why engineer this ridiculous cloak-and-dagger meeting?’

‘I want the truth!’ cried Rachel, her loathing for this woman finally getting the better of her. ‘I want to hear you admit what you have done!’

Elizabeth glared at her. ‘I thought that was obvious. I want to be the head of my family’s company, as I always should have been. Just because I had the misfortune to be born a girl, somehow that meant I wasn’t worthy of being in charge of Denver. It didn’t matter how good I was, how hard I worked, Julian was the golden boy. Everything was always handed to him on a platter.’

‘So you set him up.’

‘Oh grow up!’ shouted Elizabeth. ‘This is big business, Rachel. Do you really think people in power – politicians, CEOs, all those billionaires – do you think they never tread on a few toes? Do you think your precious Julian never did any of those things? No, he did whatever was necessary too. He would outmanoeuvre, he’d stab his friends in the back, foul means to achieve a fair result.’ She curled her lip into a sneer. ‘And you, Rachel – you too. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. The phone-tapping, the long lenses, the illegal hacking of emails, all in the name of the story. You call it public interest; others call it a gross invasion of privacy.’

‘Don’t turn this back on to me,’ said Rachel. ‘We’re talking about you, Elizabeth.’

‘Really? And I suppose you think we’re so very, very different, don’t you?’

Rachel shook her head in impatience. She was sick of being played with.

‘Yes, we are different, Elizabeth,’ she said. ‘I would never go to the lengths you did. Never in a million years.’

Elizabeth’s smooth forehead crinkled into a frown. ‘What do you mean?’

Rachel sat forward. ‘Did you kill your brother?’

Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered wide open. ‘What? What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Answer the question.’

‘No, I did not,’ she spluttered with horror.

If she had been on the jury in a murder trial, she would certainly have been convinced by that performance. Still, she couldn’t let Elizabeth deflect her.

‘I know about Rheladrex,’ she said. ‘I know that Julian wanted to withdraw it from the market.’

‘Rheladrex. The diet drug? Being withdrawn?’ Elizabeth shook her head. ‘Why, when it’s doing so well?’

‘Either he told you about it or you found out. You knew what the implications would be for the company’s share price and the sale price of Denver Chemicals.’

Elizabeth held up a hand. ‘Stop this nonsense, Rachel. I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. There is certainly nothing wrong with our share price; in fact Denver is in better shape than ever. And the sale of Denver Chemicals is going ahead . . .’

She looked down at the ground, as if she were trying to make sense of it all, then swung her gaze back to Rachel’s face.

‘You really think I killed Julian?’ she said incredulously.

Rachel nodded slowly.

‘I did
not
kill my brother,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘How could you even think that? Just because I’m
ambitious
?’

‘How could I think it?’ said Rachel. ‘You set Julian up in a sting that almost ruined his whole life. You use people like they’re just pawns to be sacrificed to your ambition. And you want me to believe you wouldn’t simply dispose of someone if they got in your way?’

Elizabeth rubbed her hand across her mouth. Her nostrils were trembling and her cheeks had turned scarlet.

‘What do you want, Rachel?’ she asked finally. ‘People like you always have a price.’

‘Let’s talk money.’

Rachel almost laughed at the look of relief that flooded across Elizabeth’s face. Finance was her business. If Rachel was prepared to settle this with money, Elizabeth felt back on solid ground – she could see a way out.

‘Okay, I have a solution,’ she said. ‘You’re a good investigator, Rachel, you’ve proved that these past few weeks.’

Flattery now?
thought Rachel, enjoying the moment.

‘You know as well as I do that the media is screwed,’ continued Elizabeth. ‘So do you know where a lot of the very best investigators – detectives, hacks – end up these days? In private security work.’

She let that idea hang in the air for a moment.

‘As it happens,’ she continued, ‘I am about to make an investment in one such firm. I think with a few introductions and a little pressure I could get you a senior position there, maybe even an equity partnership. If the company takes off in the way I think it will, that would be a very lucrative career move for you. More lucrative than running diving courses in Thailand, I dare say.’

Rachel nodded, as if she were thinking the proposition over. ‘That’s a generous offer,’ she said slowly. ‘But it’s not the sort of transaction I had in mind.’

Elizabeth frowned, momentarily confused. ‘Then what do you want? A cheque?’

‘This challenge to Julian’s will,’ she said. ‘You mentioned it earlier. I understand that you’re the one behind it, correct?’

‘Yes. So?’

‘I have to say I wasn’t surprised. You didn’t want your brother to be CEO; you sure as hell wouldn’t want his poor adopted son to inherit the company, now would you?’

‘Where is all this leading, Rachel?’

Rachel raised her eyebrows. ‘Drop the challenge,’ she said flatly. ‘That’s what I want. No cheque, no job, just pull out of contesting the will. You know as well as I do that you probably won’t win anyway, so you might as well turn the situation to your advantage.’

‘And what’s in this for you, exactly?’

‘Nothing,’ said Rachel, shrugging. ‘Well, maybe it’s to do with that guilt you mentioned earlier. Maybe I can do something good for someone else, for Julian’s son.’

‘His son?’ sneered Elizabeth. ‘That little bastard brat? He’s nothing to do with my family and never will be.’

Anger rose up inside Rachel. ‘Either you drop your challenge to Julian’s will or I will go public with your little scheme to set up your brother with a teenage girl. I told you before, Elizabeth, I have nothing to lose, but you? My guess is that if Denver’s shareholders ever heard the true story of how you so recklessly tried to destabilise your brother’s career – not to mention undermining the reputation of the company – they would have you out of the building and out of the company so fast it would make your head swim.’

Elizabeth glared at her for a moment, but Rachel could tell she knew she was beaten.

‘All right,’ she said, standing up and smoothing her skirt down.

‘Great. And whilst we’re at it. That security firm you mentioned you’re investing in? Get my friend Ross McKiney a job with them. He’s a good investigator. One of the best.’

‘You have a deal,’ Elizabeth said grudgingly.

‘Excellent,’ said Rachel with a smile.

‘Smile all you want,’ said Elizabeth, her eyes narrowing. ‘But know this: you’ve just laid down your only hand. You might have won this time, but nobody plays this game better than me. No one.’

Rachel watched her walk out of the park, her heels still clacking even after she was out of sight.

49

‘Charlie. Table five wanted two slices of the courgette and ginger cake, two cream teas and a soup. How are we doing with the order?’

Diana smiled as she watched her son, freshly arrived back from boarding school, throw a tea towel over his shoulder grumpily.

‘Mum, this is supposed to be my summer holiday. I’m a student, not Gordon Ramsay.’

‘Stop complaining,’ she grinned, hitting him with a dishcloth. ‘Me and your auntie Rachel had a paper round and two waitressing jobs at your age. Just because you go to a fancier school than we did doesn’t mean you’re not going to get to work when your mother says so.’

‘And get Rachel to make another batch of lemonade while you’re in the back. We’ve run out!’ shouted Dot after him.

Diana and Dot had seriously underestimated how popular they were going to be. Ever since they had opened the café at eleven thirty, at exactly the same time as the church bell had chimed to indicate the beginning of the village fair, there had been a queue snaking out of the door. Dot had apparently pulled an all-nighter to prepare an array of delicious-looking cakes and scones, but it wasn’t even three o’clock and they looked in serious danger of having nothing left to sell. An entrepreneur who appeared on a
Dragons’ Den
-type programme had once told Diana that a major cause of business failure was stock control, and she hoped that they hadn’t bitten off more than they could chew.

But no one could deny it was a roaring success. It was a beautiful afternoon and people must have come from far and wide to the fair.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and then a voice.

‘I wonder if you’ve got any of the Diana cake. I’ve been told it’s the best in show.’

Spinning round, she saw Adam standing right behind her. He smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled.

‘You came,’ she said, wiping her hands on her pale blue Moschino dress.

‘You asked.’

She didn’t like to mention Thursday night. The café glowing like a romantic French bistro for the evening she had planned together.

‘This is seriously impressive, Di.’

‘I didn’t do much,’ she lied. ‘Put a few flowers in jars. That’s all.’

‘That’s not what I’ve heard.’

‘What
have
you heard?’ she asked, filled with pride.

‘I’ve heard you’ve transformed the Blue Ribbon top to toe.’

Diana smiled. ‘Dot’s Bakery: we’re changing the name. It’s what everyone around here calls it anyway, and I thought we could do lovely little spotty cake boxes, maybe merchandising like aprons and mugs.’

‘And dozens of franchises across the country?’ smiled Adam. ‘I like it.’

Diana couldn’t deny it had crossed her mind. Secretly she liked the idea of making a big success of a business, so that for once people wouldn’t look down on her, dismiss her as a gold-digger, the secretary who’d snagged the boss. Also, in some small way it would be keeping Julian’s memory alive – and Diana realised that she did want that very much, despite her feelings for Adam, which were making themselves heard at that very moment.

‘Do you want some lemonade? Rachel’s made it. It’s rather good.’

Adam nodded.

‘I’ll just grab two cups and we can sit outside. I can get Charlie to cover for me . . .’

She realised she was rambling and stopped.

‘Take your time.’

The door of the café tinkled open, although she could barely hear the bell over the din inside.

‘Diana. Diana Denver.’ It was the vicar, and he looked hot and exasperated. ‘There you are, my dear. They are shouting for you in the marquee,’ he said, lowering his voice from its sermon level. ‘Judging is about to start. I have to say, there is a tomato out there the size of a watermelon . . .’

Diana glanced at Adam and winced.

‘Go,’ he mouthed, and then winked at her.

She hoped that he would follow her out of the shop towards the marquee, but as she turned back to look at him, he was already sharing a joke with Charlie.

Rachel was making her eighth batch of lemonade. One cup of sugar, one cup of water, one cup of freshly squeezed lemon juice to make the syrup, then a further four cups of water and plenty of crushed ice to dilute. She had varied the recipe throughout the day, even adding a few secret ingredients she had found in Dot’s cupboards, although she preferred it herself straight up, with a little grated zest and mint. She had shared a private grumble with Charlie earlier on in the afternoon, not quite believing that she had been roped into helping out with the café. As if she wasn’t doing enough for Diana, she thought, feeling momentarily irritated, then stopped her uncharitable thoughts.

Dot bustled in and helped herself to the pitcher of lemonade that Rachel had just made.

‘You know, this stuff is getting better and better as the day goes on. You should set up shop when you get back to Thailand.’

‘Cheers. I’m not doing badly for someone who can’t boil an egg successfully.’

‘Speaking of Thailand. Where’s that handsome boyfriend when we need him?’

‘He’s gone into London. He leaves for Bangkok tomorrow. He said he’d be back by now actually.’ She smiled brightly, trying to hide her disappointment.

Rachel understood that Liam’s time in England was limited and that he had had more friends and family to see, but she was still confused and upset at his no-show at the fair. He had known how hard Diana had worked to revamp the café and how much Rachel had wanted the day to be a success for her sister’s benefit if nothing else. Besides which, despite Rachel’s chores in the kitchen, it was the sort of perfect English afternoon that she wanted to share with him. The sort she knew she would miss in Thailand’s relentless sunshine.

Her mobile phone was buzzing in the pouch of the spotty apron that Dot had lent her.

‘My phone. I had better get this.’

She could hear a faint voice at the other end, but the noise in the café was so loud, she could barely make out what it was saying. She went outside, which wasn’t much better, so she stuck a finger in her ear.

‘Is that Rachel?’ The voice was at first unfamiliar. ‘It’s Alicia. Alicia Dyer. I just wanted to let you know that Liam is on his way.’

‘Liam’s been with you?’ she said, feeling her mouth dry.

‘Didn’t he tell you?’

‘Of course,’ she lied.

‘Sorry we didn’t get to say goodbye at Casper’s last week. But as promised, I asked around. I was going to pass the message on through Liam, but I thought I had better tell you myself. Anyway, word was definitely out that Julian wanted to sell the business. All the big players were after a meeting with him to angle for the instruction; in fact a partner at our place was certain he knew exactly the right buyer. Bit of a lost cause, though, as Julian had a tight circle of investment people he liked using. It’s a shame we didn’t meet before. I mean, I didn’t know Liam had such a connection to the Denver family.’

‘Julian’s dead, Alicia. I don’t think Liam’s connections could help now. Not that they ever would have.’

‘Of course not,’ she said with embarrassment.

Rachel ended the call and sank down to the kerb, reeling. She kept hearing Alicia’s words.
Liam is on his way . . . Didn’t he tell you?
She had no idea if the woman was being deliberately toxic, and she had certainly gone out of her way to help Rachel. But still she felt duped and betrayed. Liam had said he had to go into London to run some errands, meet friends, and, well, meeting Alicia did, strictly speaking, fall into that category. But she felt sure that Liam would have mentioned who he was going to see if it had been anyone else other than Alicia. And he had no reason to cover his tracks unless there was some romantic element to his visit, an element that he wanted to hide from Rachel because he thought it would upset her.

She looked up and saw Adam Denver walking out of the café, which was strange as she hadn’t seen him go in. There was something about him that made him look like a film star on the set of a Working Title movie. Squinting in the sun she waved at him and he came ambling over, his hands thrust in his jeans pockets.

‘Shouldn’t you be judging cauliflowers?’

‘Your sister’s the local celebrity around here. No one knows me from Adam.’

She gave a short laugh and he came to sit next to her on the kerb.

‘Excellent lemonade, by the way.’

She was only half listening to him. All she could think about was that Liam and Alicia had rekindled their relationship and the very idea of it made her feel sick.

‘Did I taste vanilla?’

‘What?’

‘Vanilla. In the lemonade.’

She started to laugh. ‘I went a bit off-piste.’

‘It was great. Inventive. Are you okay?’ he said after a moment.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Come on, Rachel. What’s wrong?’

‘Why are men arseholes?’ she said, turning to him.

‘Ah. Boyfriend trouble.’

‘I haven’t got a boyfriend,’ she snapped.

‘Whatever it is, believe me, it’s not as important as you think it is. Nothing that can’t be sorted by talking to someone.’

‘I didn’t expect you to be an agony aunt.’

‘I’m here if you need me.’

‘As I said, there isn’t a problem.’

‘Well let’s toast that with a Pimm’s.’

‘And hold the lemonade,’ she said grumpily. ‘I’m sick of it. I want to mainline on pure alcohol.’

He went to the drinks tent and came back with two plastic tumblers stuffed with cucumber and mint.

‘I don’t drink,’ Rachel confessed, taking a refreshing sip of the peculiarly British beverage and pushing all thoughts of Liam out of her head. ‘I haven’t done since I was arrested, but the last few weeks have been hard.’

‘Well alcohol isn’t the answer,’ he said, taking the Pimm’s out of her hand and putting it on the pavement.

She turned to look at him. ‘You know I was thinking of going to see Julian’s grave before I went back to Thailand. Where is he buried?’

‘In the grounds of the church near my parents’ house. I can take you there if you like.’

She nodded. ‘It’s something I have to do. You know there were aspects of Julian’s life I didn’t like, didn’t approve of. But I think he was a good man. Decent. Away from the affairs and the infidelity, he was moral.’

‘People are complicated,’ said Adam softly. ‘No one is just good or bad.’

‘I need a list of Denver Group shareholders,’ she said snapping into work-mode. ‘People with significant holdings in particular. Can you get that for me?’

‘It might take a few days, but yes, of course.’

She looked up and saw Liam walking towards them.

‘Finally. Here he is,’ she muttered, feeling suddenly anxious.

‘Someone you know?’

‘My business partner.’

‘Ah, Liam. The bronzed diving hunk. I heard about the mercy dash from Ko Tao.’

‘Does Diana tell you everything?’ He saw her annoyance and touched her arm.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that he sounds like a very good friend.’

‘Well, not everyone thinks I’m the Wicked Witch of the West.’

‘No one does, Rachel.’

‘Yeah? And who was it called me a bitch not so long ago?’ She was joking and he knew it.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, getting up to leave.

‘Don’t go,’ she said, putting her hand on his arm.

Adam nodded as if he completely understood. ‘I’d better go and get us all another drink then.’