False Impression (49 page)

‘Not a hope/
said Arabella, before the butler was given a chance to respond. ‘Andrews is one
national treasure I will never part with/

M
r Nakamura woke
a few minutes after six, when he thought he heard the bedroom door close. He
spent a few moments thinking over what had taken place the previous evening,
trying to convince himself it hadn’t all been a dream.

He pushed back
the sheets and lowered his feet onto the carpet, to find a pair of slippers and
a dressing gown had been left by the side of the bed. He placed his feet in the
slippers, put on the dressing gown and walked to the end of the bed, where he’d
left his dinner jacket, evening dress shirt and the rest of his clothes on a
chair. He had intended to pack before leaving, but they were no longer there.
He tried to recall if he had already put them in his suitcase. He opened the
lid to discover that his dress shirt had been washed, ironed and packed, and
his dinner jacket was pressed and hanging up in his suit carrier.

He walked into
the bathroom to find the large bath three quarters full. He placed a hand in
the water: the temperature was warm, but not hot. Then he recalled the bedroom
door closing. No doubt with just enough force to wake him, without disturbing
any other guest. He took off his dressing gown and stepped into the bath.

Anna came out of
the bathroom and started to get dressed. She was putting on Tina’s watch when
she first saw the envelope on the bedside table. Had Andrews delivered it while
she was in the shower? She felt sure it hadn’t been there when she woke. Anna
was scrawled on it in Arabella’s unmistakable bold hand.

She sat on the
end of the bed and tore open the envelope.

Wentworth Hall

September
26th, 2001

Dearest
Anna,

How
do I begin to thank you? Ten days ago you told me that you wished to prove you
had nothing to do with Victoria’s tragic death. Since then, you have done so
much more, and even ended up saving the family’s bacon.

Anna burst out
laughing at the quaint English expression, causing two slips of paper to fall
out of the envelope and onto the floor. Anna bent down to pick them up. The
first was a Courts cheque made out to Anna Petrescu for one million pounds. The
second...

Once Nakamura was
dressed, he picked up his cellphone from the bedside table and dialled a number
in Tokyo. He instructed his finance director to deposit the sum of forty-five
million dollars by electronic transfer with his bank in London. He wouldn’t
need to brief his lawyers, as he had already given them clear instructions to
transfer the full amount to Courts & Co in the Strand, where the Wentworth
family had maintained an account for over two centuries.

Before leaving
the room to go down to breakfast, Mr Nakamura paused in front of the portrait
of Wellington. He gave the Iron Duke a slight bow, feeling sure that he would
have enjoyed last night’s skirmishes.

As he walked
down the marble staircase, he spotted Andrews in the hall. He was supervising
the moving of the red box, which contained the Van Gogh with its original frame
restored. The under butler was placing the crate next to the front door so that
it could be loaded into Mr Nakamura’s car the moment his chauffeur appeared.

Arabella bustled
out of the breakfast room as her guest reached the bottom step.

‘Good morning,
Takashi,’ she said. ‘I do hope that, despite everything, you managed some
sleep.’

“Yes, thank you,
Arabella,’ he replied, as Anna limped down behind him.

‘I don’t know
how to thank you,’ said Anna.

‘Sotheby’s would
have charged me a lot more,’ said Arabella without explanation.

‘And I know that
Tina...’ began Anna, when there was a firm rap on the front door. Nakamura
paused, as Andrews walked sedately across the hall.

‘Probably my
driver,’ Nakamura suggested as the butler pulled open the oak door.

‘Good morning,
sir,’ Andrews said.

Arabella swung
round and smiled at her unexpected guest.

‘Good morning,
Jack,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t realized you were joining us for breakfast. Have you
just popped across from the States, or have you spent the night at our local
police station?’

‘No, Arabella, I
did not, but I’m told that you should have done,’ replied Jack with a grin.

‘Hello, my
hero,’ said Anna, giving Jack a kiss. Tou arrived just in time to save us all.’

‘Not quite
fair,’ chipped in Arabella, ‘as it was Jack who tipped off the local
constabulary in the first place.’

Anna smiled and,
turning to Nakamura, said, ‘This is my friend,

Jack Fitzgerald
Delaney.’

‘No doubt
christened John,’ suggested Mr Nakamura as he shook hands with Jack.

‘Correct, sir.’

‘Names chosen by
an Irish mother, or perhaps you were born on the twenty-second of November,
1963?’

‘Guilty on both
counts,’ admitted Jack.

“Very droll,’
said Arabella, as she led her guests through to the breakfast room, and Anna
explained to Jack why she had a bandage round her leg.

Arabella invited
Nakamura to take the place on her right.

Gesturing to
Jack, she said, ‘Come and sit on my left, young man.

There
are
still one or two questions that I need answered.’ Jack
eyed the devilled kidneys as he picked up his knife and fork. ‘And you can
forget any thought of food/ Arabella added, ‘until you’ve explained why I’m not
on the front page of the Daily Mail following my heroic efforts last night.’

‘I have no idea what
you’re talking about,’ said Jack, as Andrews poured him a cup of black coffee.

‘Not you, as
well,’ said Arabella. ‘It’s no wonder so many people believe in conspiracy
theories and police cover-ups. Now do try a little harder, Jack.’

When I questioned
my colleagues at MI5 this morning,’ said Jack, placing his knife and fork back
on the table, ‘they were able to assure me that no terrorists had entered this
country during the past twenty-four hours.’

‘In other words,
she got clean away,’ said Anna.

‘Not exactly,’
said Jack, ‘but I can tell you that a woman of approximately five foot,
weighing around a hundred pounds, with a gunshot wound, spent the night in
solitary at Belmarsh prison.’

‘From which no
doubt she will escape,’ suggested Arabella.

‘I can assure
you,
Arabella, that
no one has ever escaped from
Belmarsh.’

‘But they’ll
still end up having to send her back to Bucharest.’

‘Unlikely,’ said
Jack, ‘as there’s no record of her ever entering the country in the first
place, and no one will be looking for a woman in that particular prison.’

“Well, if that’s
the case, I’ll allow you to help yourself to a small portion of mushrooms.’

Jack picked up
his knife and fork.

“Which I can
highly recommend,’ said Mr Nakamura, as he rose from his place, ‘but I fear I
must now leave you, Arabella, if I am not to be late for my meeting.’

Jack put down
his knife and fork for a second time, as everyone left the table to join Mr
Nakamura in the hall.

Andrews was
standing by the front door, organizing the packing of the red box into the
trunk of a Toyota limousine, when Arabella and her guests walked into the hall.

‘I think,’ said
Mr Nakamura, turning to face Arabella, ‘that to describe my short visit to
Wentworth Hall as memorable would be a classic example of English
understatement.’ He smiled, before taking one last look at Gainsborough’s
portrait of Catherine, Lady Wentworth. ‘Correct
me if I am
wrong, Arabella/
he continued,

‘
but
isn’t that the same necklace as you were wearing at
dinner last night?”

‘It is indeed,’
replied Arabella with a smile. ‘Her ladyship was an actress, which would be the
equivalent today of being a lap dancer, so heaven knows from which of her many
admirers she acquired such a magnificent bauble. But I’m not complaining,
because I certainly have her to thank for the necklace.’

‘And the
earrings,’ said Anna.

‘Earring,
sadly,’ said Arabella, touching her right ear.

‘Earring,’
repeated Jack as he looked up at the painting. ‘I’m so dumb,’ he added. ‘It’s
been staring me in the face all the time.’

‘And what
exactly has been staring you in the face all the time?” asked Anna.

‘Leapman wrote
on the back of a photograph of Fenston shaking hands with George W. Bush: “This
is all the evidence you need”.’

‘All the
evidence you need for what?’ asked Arabella.

‘To prove that
it was
Fenston
who murdered your sister,’ replied
Jack.

‘I fail to see a
connection between Catherine Lady Wentworth and the President of the United
States,’ said Arabella.

‘Exactly the
same mistake as I made,’ said Jack. ‘The connection is not between Lady
Wentworth and Bush, but between Lady Wentworth and Fenston. And the clue has
always been staring us in the face.’

Everyone looked
up at the Gainsborough portrait.

After a long
silence, Anna was the first to speak.

‘They’re both
wearing the same earring,’ she said quietly. ‘I also missed it completely. I
even saw Fenston wearing the earring on the day he fired me, but I just didn’t
make the connection.’

‘Leapman
immediately realized its significance,’ said Jack, almost rubbing his hands
together. ‘He’d worked out that it was the vital piece of evidence we needed to
secure a conviction.’

Andrews coughed.

‘You’re quite
right, Andrews,’ said Arabella. We mustn’t keep Mr Nakamura any longer. The poor
man has suffered quite enough family revelations for one day.’

True,’ said Mr
Nakamura. ‘However, I would like to congratulate Mr Delaney on a remarkable
piece of detection.’

‘Slow, but he
gets there in the end,’ said Anna, taking his hand.

Mr Nakamura
smiled as Arabella accompanied him down to his car, while Jack and Anna waited
on the top step.

Well done,
Stalker. I agree with Mr Nakamura, that wasn’t a bad piece of detective work.’

Jack smiled and
turned to face Anna.
‘But how about your efforts as a rookie
agent?
Did you ever discover why Tina...’

‘I thought you’d
never ask,’ said Anna, ‘though I must confess I also missed several clues that
should have been obvious, even to an amateur.’

‘Like what?’
asked
Jack.

‘A girl who just
happens to support the 49ers as well as the Lakers, has a considerable
knowledge and love of American art, whose hobby was sailing a boat called
Christina that had been named after the owner’s two children.’

‘She’s Chris
Adams’s daughter?’ said Jack.

‘And Chris Adams
Jr’s sister,’ said Anna.

‘Well that
explains everything.’

‘Almost
everything,’ said Anna, ‘because not only did Tina Adams lose her home and the
boat after her brother had his throat cut by Krantz, but she also had to drop
out of law school.’

‘So Fenston
finally crossed the wrong person.’

‘And it gets
better,’ said Anna. ‘Tina changed her name from Adams to Forster, moved to New
York, took a secretarial course, applied for a temping job at the bank and
waited for Fenston’s secretary to resign – a fairly regular occurrence – before
she stepped into the breach.’

‘And held on to
her position until she was fired last week,’ Jack reminded her, as Nakamura
bowed low to Arabella before climbing into the back of his limousine.

‘And even better
news, Stalker,’ continued Anna as she returned Mr Nakamura’s wave. ‘Tina
downloaded every document that might implicate Fenston onto her personal
computer. She kept everything, from contracts to letters, even personal memos
that Fenston thought had been destroyed when the North Tower collapsed. So I
have a feeling that it won’t be that long before you can finally close the file
on Mr Bryce Fenston.’

Thanks to you
and Tina,’ said Jack. He paused. ‘But she still lost everything.’

‘Not
everything,’ said Anna, ‘because you’ll be happy to know that Arabella has
given her a million dollars for the part she played in saving the Wentworth
estate.’

‘A million
dollars?’ said Jack.

‘Not to mention
the million pounds she’s presented to me, “for the labourer is worthy of his
hire” was how Arabella expressed it in her letter.’

‘St Luke,’ said
Jack. ‘“And in the same house remain, eating and drinking such things as they
give: for the labourer is worthy of his hire.”‘

‘Impressive,’
said Anna.

‘And I didn’t
even get breakfast.’