False Diamond--An Abbot Agency Mystery (22 page)

‘No “must” about it. It was a complete waste of my time and of police resources. Please think twice before contacting me again.' He broke the connection.

Bea stared at the phone, bewildered. And then almost dropped it, realizing how contaminated it must be. ‘Excuse me,' she said, rushing back into her office. Somewhere she'd got a bottle of disinfectant. Ah, there it was. She used the gel liberally on the phone and on her hands. And then, making sure, on the chair the inspector had been sitting on, and on the desk which he'd sprayed with his coughs and sneezes.

‘Better now?' Leon had followed her, looking amused.

‘I don't need to catch a cold on top of everything else. I was so sure that I'd worked out what happened, and it turns out I don't know anything at all. Benton did not have a girlfriend whom he had to pay off with the diamond from Dilys's ring … Well, I suppose he might have had a girlfriend, but not one who's died in a road accident. I thought it was him who'd been following me around on a motorbike, and I suppose he might have been the passenger on the bike on Saturday, but it can't have been him yesterday because Maggie says it was a much bigger man, and anyway, it turns out it couldn't have been him because he was dead … and his sons with him.'

She shuddered. ‘Who would kill two small boys … even if they were not the most lovable of children? I suppose he had some other enemy who … If I didn't know Dilys was in hospital, I'd have wondered if she'd had enough gumption to kill him herself, but … No, that's a fantasy. She hasn't the guts nor the strength, I suppose … Although how much strength it would take to drug her husband and children and … No, let's start again. Dilys would never have harmed her children.'

‘Agreed.' Leon took the chair the inspector had vacated and made himself at home.

‘Besides,' said Bea, distractedly, ‘no one knows where he's put her. Dilys, I mean. Some private clinic somewhere? And if so, how are we going to find out where she is, now he's dead? I suppose the clinic will keep her till they find the bills aren't getting paid … or perhaps, looking on the bright side, she'll be able to convince them of her sanity.' Exhausted, she sank down into her own chair. ‘What a mess.'

‘I have a suggestion to make,' Leon said.

‘Ah. Will you excuse me for a minute? There's someone who needs to know what's happened.' She dialled Max's mobile. ‘Max? I don't know if you've heard already, but there's some rather tragic news. Benton was found dead in his car yesterday with—'

His speech sounded slurred. ‘It's not funny.'

He hadn't been drinking, had he? At this time of the morning? ‘It's true. I suppose it will be on the local news. The police have just been round to talk to me about it. They thought at first that I—'

‘You didn't, did you?'

She blinked. ‘Don't be absurd. In any case, I have an alibi. I suppose the police may ask where you were yesterday.'

‘What? How … No, that's ridiculous. How you could even think …!'

What she did think was that he was protesting too much, that the whole tenor of this conversation was skewed. It was almost as if he'd known about Benton's death before she rang. But, how could that be? ‘Did you know that whoever killed Benton also killed his children?'

‘What!' No, he hadn't known that. He said, ‘That's terrible.' Heavy breathing. ‘I have to go. I'm in the middle of something. Speak to you later.' Click. Off went the phone.

Bea switched her own phone off, trying to think. Max was hiding something. But what? Surely Benton's death must bring him a sort of relief … mustn't it?

Leon was sitting at ease in his chair, eating the last doughnut.

She passed her hand across her eyes. ‘I can't stop thinking about those boys. I hope they were drugged, wouldn't know anything, but … How awful for Dilys, when she hears. And little Bernice, poor kid. There's Benton's sister, too. What's more – I shouldn't laugh but – looking on the bright side, it's going to play the very dickens at Holland and Butcher.'

Leon brushed crumbs off his hands. ‘That's why I need your help. My brother's going spare. World War Three has broken out at Holland Holdings because, just to complicate matters, his chief accountant – who's been with him for twenty years or so – has committed suicide after sacking her deputy. As if that weren't enough, the staff at Holland and Butcher are running around like headless chickens. Looking at it one way, it's a small matter who takes charge of Holland and Butcher, but as it affects the smooth running of my brother's household it's become the most urgent of his problems …'

Bea froze. The chief accountant of Holland Holdings had committed suicide? Ah-ha. Was this the missing piece of the jigsaw? If there'd been some major jiggery-pokery on the part of said accountant, then that explained why a multi-billionairess like Sybil had abandoned plans for a cruise to fly to London … and why she and her brother were leaning on Leon to sort things out. This needed thought. In the meantime …

Leon was still talking. ‘Benton had well-advanced plans for a major reorganization at H & B. Some departments might disappear and others expand. He'd made verbal offers to this man and that, contingent upon refinancing – is this where Max was due to come up with some capital? – but there's nothing on paper, and no one knows how to proceed.'

‘There'll be emails to show—'

‘He put all his notes on his iPad and took it around with him but, according to his PA, he also backed up everything by putting it on to a memory stick at the end of each day. I spoke to his sister, who says the police have removed his iPad and all his paperwork and she doesn't know anything about a memory stick. Sybil shouts at our brother. He shouts back, and nothing whatever is done to sort out the mess.'

The accountant was definitely up to something. And Benton was involved?

Bea said, ‘Naturally, your brother can't stomach his domestic arrangements being upset by such trivial matters as murder and suicide.'

Leon acknowledged the hit with a wave of his hand. ‘Don't forget that the firm of Holland and Butcher employs upwards of thirty staff, all of whose jobs are at risk.'

‘Why don't you take over?'

He grimaced. ‘You know I don't want to get involved. But I did agree to look for the memory stick. I've stayed at Benton's and can make a guess where he might have left it. His sister says she'll have a look for it. I said I'd drop by to pick it up, but I'd very much like a witness because I don't trust her.'

Bea couldn't believe her ears. ‘You want me to help you find Benton's memory stick in order to keep your brother provided with three meals a day and a warm bedroom? Ridiculous. Besides, the police won't allow us to take anything from the house of a murder victim.'

‘They've got the iPad. They don't need the memory stick as well. If by any chance we do find it, they can have a copy. But at least we'll then have enough information to keep the company afloat.'

‘Which company? H & B, or Holland Holdings?'

His eyelids contracted. ‘That's a ridiculous suggestion. Holland Holdings is as safe as houses.'

Yes, but he would say that, wouldn't he? This hunt for a memory stick is about more than a reorganization at H & B, isn't it?

She didn't want to do it. No way, Jose. But, a thought. ‘I wonder if he's left a clue on the memory stick as to where he's stashed Dilys.'

‘A good point. If we can only find it. I'm hoping that Benton was secretive enough to hide it somewhere it wouldn't be found too easily.'

‘It'll be on his key ring, and the key ring will be in his car.'

‘His PA says not. She says he used to put it in the breast pocket of his jacket every evening. She says he also used to back up to the Cloud, but without his password she can't access anything.'

His passwords. That's what Leon was after, wasn't it? Bea was silent, thinking that if Oliver hadn't had to go back to university, he might have been helpful in sorting this out. ‘People usually keep a record of their passwords somewhere, especially if they use more than one. I suspect Benton might have used several. He probably kept the list somewhere in his diary, or on a calendar? We could look for that.'

He hid a smile. ‘Or on his memory stick? Shall we go?'

Bea hesitated. ‘I can't leave the agency, just like that.' She checked her desk diary. She had two appointments that afternoon, but she might be able to defer them … Oh, yes. There was something else that she'd been going to tackle that day. She must talk to Carrie about it … Not the sort of thing Carrie usually dealt with, but she could have a go at it, and if she couldn't straighten it out Bea could give the client a ring tomorrow. Then there was a query from a long-time customer who needed plenty of soft soap, but that didn't have to be dealt with that day, did it? The monthly figures, yes, they could wait till tomorrow. But, um, there was that tangle over a bill which … No, she'd better deal with it when she got back.

Bea said, ‘Give me half an hour and I'll be with you. There are some things I can pass to Carrie and others which can be postponed. I can give you a couple of hours, if that's enough? Do you want to wait for me here, or meet me there?'

‘I'll wait for you. Remember, there's a bogey man on a bike outside, waiting for you to surface.'

She'd forgotten all about him. Ouch. Yes. Hm. She didn't particularly want Leon eavesdropping on her conference with Carrie. No real reason, but … She stood up, thinking rapidly. ‘Perhaps you'd like to wait in Maggie's room next door? I expect it's a bit untidy but it will be better than waiting out in the cold on the doorstep. Maggie's gone out on a job and you can be comfortable there. I'll get someone to send you in a cup of coffee and be ready to leave in –' she looked at her watch – ‘thirty-five minutes, all right?'

She showed him into Maggie's room. There was a comfortable chair to sit in and a view of the garden outside. He took out his smartphone as he sat down and started to look at his emails.

Before she talked to Carrie, Bea went upstairs to the sitting room and looked out on to the street. No biker. Well, what had she expected? Maggie had been mistaken, that's all.

She was just about to leave the window when a biker came idling down the road, looking up at the houses as he went. A black visored, leather jacketed, anonymous hit man? He parked a little way down the road and walked off. Only then did Bea see that this was a small, thin man, and that he had a sunrise or similar logo on the back of his jacket.

Relief. How absurd to be frightened of a man who probably had a wife, a mortgage and two point four children.

It occurred to her for the first time that the man who'd been following her around the previous day must have been an amateur, because he'd had no back-up. He'd been nowhere near as efficient as Oliver and Maggie, Zander and Lucas.

An amateur? Hmm. This would bear thinking about, but not yet.

She went back down the stairs, wondering who it was Leon had been emailing. Well, it was no business of hers, was it? Or was it?

L
eon handed Bea out of the taxi at their destination. ‘Have you any idea how we should handle this?'

A wind straight from Siberia whipped around her ankles, and she drew her coat more closely around her. ‘You've met the woman. I haven't. What do you think?'

He grimaced. ‘She'll try to hit on me. I don't know whether to let her, so that you can do the searching, or ask you to protect me.'

He didn't look as if he needed protection so that amused her. ‘Let's play it by ear.'

In daylight Benton's house looked less prosperous than it should, given its owner's position in life. ‘Neglected' was the word that sprang to mind. A paint job would have helped.

Bea tried to work it out. Benton earned a good whack at H & B but it hadn't been enough because he'd gone on to steal Dilys's diamond. He'd kept Dilys short of spending money so that she had to buy clothes for herself from charity shops, and Bernice had been reduced to wearing the boys' cast-offs. The two boys had been pampered, and there'd been money spent on electronic games and equipment for them, but very little had gone on the house itself. So where had the shortfall gone? Perhaps he'd been something of a miser, squirrelling money away against a rainy day? Well, if he had, the rainy day had caught him unawares.

The police would investigate his bank accounts, but would they uncover a lead to where he'd put Dilys?

Benton's car had become his hearse. Bea wondered what happened to cars in which people died. No member of the family would want them afterwards, would they?

In any case, if they didn't find Dilys soon … Bea didn't want to think about that.

Leon rapped on the door and rang the bell. Bea remembered that he'd given his house keys to Ginevra so couldn't let himself in.

A glamour puss in a crackerjack of an outfit opened the door. At first sight she looked eighteen, all curves and long, straight, shining hair. Perhaps the curves were a little too obvious and the eyelashes artificial but the package was aimed to appeal to men and presumably did. Blue eyes, pouting lips, a good complexion. Reddened eyelids and a trace of cigarette smoke were the only items which didn't match the image.

Bea worked out how much Ginevra's clothes had cost. They had not been bought from a market stall. They were from Harvey Nicholls, from an exclusive range by one of the best of today's British designers. This was not the sort of outfit in which you washed the floor. It might be black, but it wouldn't be suitable for a funeral. A dangerously low neckline revealed a deep cleavage. A cropped top gave a glimpse of a taut, flat stomach – in this cold weather? – and the regulation piercing in the navel. A minimalist skirt. Black tights on long, long legs. Tiny black boots with a four-inch heel.