False Diamond--An Abbot Agency Mystery (15 page)

Mr Green swept his papers back into his briefcase and stood. He made Bea a small bow, treated Max to a chilly stare and left the room.

Max put his head in his hands. ‘Oh, Mother. What have you done?'

Bea wanted to put her arm around him and confess that the loan amounted to all the cash that CJ, Oliver and Maggie had had about them the previous evening, totalling fifty-two pounds and ninety-seven pence. Oliver had had to subsidize Maggie who had left her bag upstairs. And then they'd all signed a piece of paper which confirmed the loan to Bea, and that she'd have to repay it before taking on any other loans. Oliver had made photocopies for them all.

Her stomach twisted. Her baby boy was in trouble, and it was in her power to wave a magic wand and rescue him. She sighed. She couldn't afford to let him off the hook yet.

She said, ‘Are you going to ask Benton to come round and put more pressure on me to help you out? Do you think he'll try to beat me up till I sell my jewellery or something?'

‘No, no. Of course not. I didn't want him to … I never thought he'd actually …'

‘He beats his wife and his little daughter. I've seen the bruises.'

‘That's ridiculous. Of course he doesn't. You'll be making out he killed his first wife, too.'

What first wife?

Max flushed. ‘Forget I said that. He wasn't married before. It was just a liaison. He told me all about it. She went crazy when he broke it off and threw herself under a bus or something.'

‘Just as Dilys went crazy, took an overdose and tried to drown herself in the bath?'

‘Exactly. Or, well, you know what I mean.'

‘He's unlucky with his women. Do you know which clinic he's taken Dilys to?'

‘What?' A blank stare. ‘She's still in hospital, isn't she?'

So he didn't know.

She said, ‘There's a word for men like him, Max. And it isn't a nice one. Forget him.'

‘I can't. You don't realize—'

‘You have a choice. The straight and narrow or the primrose path – though this particular primrose path seems to have been salted with personnel mines, so much so that I fear you're going to get badly hurt – or the straight and narrow, which means breaking with Benton.'

‘You're a fine one to talk, taking out loans at an extortionate rate of interest? I'd thought better of you, I really had. And if that's all you're going to say, I'm off. There's more ways than one to get what I need.'

He banged out of her office, and she was left to reflect that it might have been better to give him the loan he wanted, rather than let him flounder around in loan-shark-infested waters. Had she done the right thing?

Her head ached. She took some more arnica and a painkiller, and then dozed for a while. She came fully awake, realizing there was something important that she had to do, that very moment, no messing about. So, what was it?

She groaned. Visiting her daughter-in-law was never a pleasure and could be a real drag. But it had to be done.

She didn't bother to put on a lot of make-up, but seized a winter coat, checked she had her smartphone in her handbag, called in at the local shops for some essential purchases, and hailed a taxi to take her down to a prestigious block of flats down by the Thames.

‘Home' was not the word Bea would have applied to this chilly, ultra-modern flat, where the heating was never adequate and little Pippin was rarely allowed to play in the living room. Nicole liked to present herself as a doting mother, but that front was for the cameras. Bea had long suspected that in reality Nicole believed children should be seen and not heard.

Today a distracted Nicole answered the door with her fair hair rather messily loose around her shoulders. She looked as thin and elegant as usual, but also somewhat harassed. On seeing Bea, she said, ‘Oh, it's you!' And, in a different tone, ‘Pippin, I said NO!'

‘Welcome back,' said Bea, ignoring the cold tone. ‘I brought you some flowers to brighten the place up on your return. It must be so difficult living for half the year in London and half in the North.' She'd brought flowers which had already been arranged in a special container which included water. They were expensive. ‘And a bottle of champagne to celebrate your return. Also –' bending down to receive a hug from the toddler who'd hurtled across the hall to clasp her legs when he heard her voice – ‘a little something for my adorable grandson.'

‘Oh. Yes. Kind of you. Do come in. I'm afraid Pippin's being very naughty at the moment, refusing to go down for his rest, and we're all at sixes and sevens, only returned last night, I haven't really unpacked yet and I can never find anything …'

‘Can I help?' Bea picked Pippin up and cuddled him. He was warm and loving, so like his father at that age.

‘And I found a long auburn hair on Max's jacket, so I know he's been playing away.'

Oh dear. Bea forced a smile. ‘You know Max. A magnet for the babes, isn't he! Now you're back, you can protect him from them.'

Nicole took Bea's coat, hung it up, and caught sight of her mother-in-law's bruises for the first time. ‘Whatever have you done to yourself?' A look of consciousness came over her face. Bea understood that Nicole had already been told what Benton had done to her.

‘I walked into a door,' said Bea, carrying Pippin into the living room and seating herself with him on her lap. ‘Yes, Pippin; this is for you.' She handed him a tissue-wrapped ball, which he proceeded to unpack with a crow of pleasure. Bea looked up at Nicole. ‘Not a door, of course. Someone's fist. A man who thinks women ought to be taught their place. He hasn't tried it on you yet, has he?'

‘What?' Nicole's eyes flickered this way and that. She was a bad liar. ‘How dreadful. Who was it?'

Bea didn't reply.

Nicole coloured up. Yes, she'd known all right. ‘Max said something about … But I said it was nonsense, of course. I mean, people don't go around hitting people unless …' She tried out a laugh. ‘Did you trip and fall, or something?'

‘No trip. No fall. He hit me, twice. He believes women need to understand that men always know best. Unfortunately, I didn't agree with him.' She softened her tone to talk to Pippin, who had managed to find his way through the paper to a colourful ball with a tinkling bell inside. ‘There, now. If you roll it along the carpet, you can make music.'

Pippin squeaked with pleasure, clambered down to the floor and set the ball rolling. He scrambled after it, propelling it across the room. There was a bell of some sort inside. An irritating sound.

Bea said, ‘Sorry about the noise, Nicole. It's going to drive you crazy.'

Nicole took an elasticated band from her wrist and tied her hair back. ‘You must have said something appalling, done something to provoke him. I'm sure he must have been very sorry afterwards. That he'd hit you, I mean. I understand you refused to see sense.'

‘I don't think he's at all sorry that he hit me. I rather think he'd like to do it again. He certainly hasn't made me any apology. Did he tell you what it is he wants me to do?'

‘Well, yes. In general terms.' Nicole fidgeted. ‘A merger is obviously in everybody's best interests. I really don't understand why you're being so obstinate.'

‘Because I don't think I could work
with
him, never mind work
for
him. That's the beginning, middle and end of it, Nicole. I said “no” and he thinks he can beat me into submission.'

Tinkle, tinkle went the bell in the ball.

Nicole flushed. ‘Now you're being ridiculous.'

Pippin retrieved the ball from under a chair and sat with it on his lap, rocking it to and fro and gurgling with pleasure. He loved his present. Bea winced. ‘I really am sorry about that bell, Nicole. Perhaps you can put it out of action in some way?'

‘He has lots of musical toys. I let him play with them as much as he likes, in his own room. It's time for his rest, anyway.' She scooped her son up. He roared with indignation but she carried him off to his bedroom, dumped him there, and shut the door on him. He beat on the door, once, twice … and then was quiet.

Nicole said, ‘I don't see why you can't take his advice.'

‘After being beaten up for the crime of disagreeing with him?'

‘But if he knows best … I'm sure that was a momentary loss of control, and it will never happen again.'

‘I suppose I should be glad that he hasn't started on you, yet. He's a serial abuser, you know. You should see his wife's bruises, and his little daughter's, too.'

‘Nonsense.' But her eyes shifted to and fro.

‘Did he tell you his wife had to be hospitalized a couple of days ago?'

‘Yes, of course. She's mental, you know.'

‘You don't know where he's put her now, do you?'

A blank look. Nicole didn't know.

Bea tried one last ploy. ‘His sister appeared on the scene pretty promptly. I wonder how she's going to cope with his two boys. Have you met them yet?'

‘He says they're both very advanced for their age and will do well in private schools.'

‘They could certainly do with being taught some manners. Yes, a private school might well be the answer to that problem, but who's going to pay for it, I wonder? His wife has to clothe herself from the charity shop and the house could do with some money being spent on it. Granted, it's a pretty little place, but it's only got three bedrooms and there's no loft conversion.'

Nicole looked thoughtful. Worried, even. Was she imagining herself trying to fit into that household? Bea couldn't see Nicole settling for a small house with two galumphing boys. Bea got to her feet. ‘You haven't had the pleasure of meeting the boys yet? I expect that'll happen soon.'

Nicole produced an artificial smile. ‘Oh, really? Do you think so?' Playing for time.

‘Lovely to have you back in London. You must let me know when I can have Pippin for the afternoon.'

They air-kissed. Bea left.

B
ea got back to find Oliver working in
her
office, at
her
computer. Her first thought was to tell him to find himself a desk somewhere else, but she managed not to do so. After all, she'd asked him to help her, hadn't she?

By now the agency had closed down for the weekend, with all emergency phone calls diverted to a member of the staff. It was a dark January afternoon and Oliver had switched on the lights but not pulled the curtains across the window. He was surrounded by the remains of a takeaway meal and half-drunk cups of coffee. Why was it that some people couldn't clear up after themselves? Bea shed her coat, closed the curtains, cleared away cups, disposed of the remains of the meal.

Oliver didn't look up from the screen. ‘What did you say Benton's last name was?'

She lowered herself on to the settee, easing off her shoes. She considered getting herself a hot drink, decided against it. ‘Benton is his last name. His first name is Ben. Short for Benjamin, I assume.'

‘Ben Benton. It has a certain ring to it. Right, here he is. I'm into Holland Holdings' website, sloppy work, they haven't deleted past newsflashes. The first mention of him is … yes … ten, no, eleven years ago in which he features as Salesman of the Year for the Holland car-hire firm with the slogan, “Contact me for all your needs on that special day.” He's got handsome teeth, I must say. Next, he's given a shove up the ladder and appears as second-in-command at Holland and Butcher … they call it a “training college” and not a “school” by the way … followed almost immediately with an update featuring his extravagant wedding to Dilys. Marquee in the grounds, cast of a thousand, three bridesmaids in black, bride looking puffy-faced in white—'

‘Is the training college in the same building as Mr Holland's mansion?'

He pressed keys. ‘There's an aerial photograph of the site here.' He turned the computer round so that she could see the impressive spread. The original house was mid-Victorian, an enormous white elephant of a place with extensive grounds running down in terraces to a lawn on which the first occupants had probably played croquet in the dim and distant. The lawn was sheltered by huge cypresses. Beyond that lay a shrubbery, and to one side was a walled kitchen garden complete with greenhouses.

‘Extensive,' said Bea. ‘How much do you think it costs to keep it going?'

‘I suspect there's some kind of tax dodge going on here. Can you see that at the back of the house there's a courtyard? It presumably started off life as stables and housing for carriages and was later turned into garages for cars. Access to the courtyard from the outside world is through an electronic gate with a guard on duty, and beyond that there's a car park which contains … let's do a rough count … about forty places. I imagine the buildings in the courtyard are now offices and we're looking at the nerve centre of Holland Holdings. He is probably setting off the costs of the estate by claiming his house and grounds are all part of the offices.'

‘Including the Holland and Butcher training college?'

‘I think … No, that's in another building, some way off.' He moved the computerized picture around the site and enlarged it. They were now looking at a not particularly attractive thirty-year-old concrete and glass building, some four storeys high.

Oliver enlarged the picture again and roamed the site. ‘Ah. Got it. If you come in by the main entrance, the road splits in two. The right-hand lane directs visitors to the Holland and Butcher Training College … see the sign for it? … while the left-hand lane leads visitors around the back of the main house to the courtyard and the offices of Holland Holdings. There's a serious alarm system on both buildings. The old man is well protected.'