Naked in Knightsbridge (32 page)

‘Can I help you with something, mate?’ Louis flicked his cigarette in the man’s general direction. The paparazzi made his job dangerous. Every time he had to swerve to avoid them, he risked his life. There had already been several near misses with trees and pedestrians. Once he’d nearly mowed down Amy Winehouse.

‘Yes, you might just be able to help me,’ the pap replied. ‘Who was that old man in the car with Jools?’

Louis smiled. It wasn’t the first time one of these fools had asked for information. He’d been a driver and bodyguard for twenty years and worked for all sorts of important people; people whose lives were of great interest to the public. He prided himself on being loyal and protective of his clients.

‘You know I can’t tell you anything about Miss Grand’s private business,’ he said, baiting the guy.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ the pap said, ‘I know. But maybe you can tell
her
.’ He held out a hundred pound note and pointed at the Queen’s image. ‘Maybe you can tell her all about that bloke, and what he and Jools were saying to each other. Maybe I can just listen in on the conversation.’ He raised his eyebrows.

Louis licked his lips. With a mortgage and ex-wife draining him dry, a hundred quid would be extremely helpful – as long as the leak couldn’t be traced back to him.

‘You want me to betray Jools to the Queen?’ Louis asked.

‘She is the Queen, after all,’ the pap said. ‘She deserves to know.’

‘I don’t know,’ Louis said, mulling it over. ‘I might betray Jools to four Queens. In fact, I might tell five Queens every little detail.’

The photographer reached into his wallet and pulled out a stack of crisp hundred pound notes. He counted out five and handed them to over.

‘Hiya, Your Highnesses,’ Louis said. ‘Want to hear about Jools and her dad and how her marriage is a complete sham? Righty ho, pull up a chair.’

Louis told his five Queens the whole story. When he was done, he got into the car and locked the door. The pap was practically drooling.

Niles couldn’t believe his luck. His photographer’s disguise had finally paid off. It was worth spending a few hundred quid to pay off that dozy driver. Now he had everything he needed to get Jools right where he wanted her: his basement in Slough.

Given his newfound information, it was a sure bet that Jools and Rodney wouldn’t be heading off for a romantic honeymoon anytime soon. Niles decided to go back to their house and wait. She wouldn’t be able to run from him anymore.

After all, it was as he had suspected.

He was more man than Rodney would ever be.

Chapter 25

Dear Julia M. Grand,

We enclose a claim recently lodged with the County Court in your area. As the claimants stated in their letter before action, they seek the amount of £25,872.11 plus interest and costs. You are advised to pay this amount within the prescribed period, or defend the claim, to avoid recovery action by the County Court Sheriff.

This is an automated letter from the South and West County Court. If you are not the intended recipient, or wish to contest this claim, please contact us immediately.

AFTER THE RECEPTION, Jools and Rodney returned home. They chatted briefly in the kitchen about an up-and-coming appearance he needed her for, and then quickly made for their separate bedrooms. Jools couldn’t wait to take off the terrible dress and crawl into bed, preferably with some tasty morsel.

Happy to be alone, she couldn’t have cared less when she heard the front door open and close and voices coming from Rodney’s bedroom. So what if he and that loser Michel were re-enacting a honeymoon? Let them. She was too exhausted to be grossed out.

Thoughts of Michel made her think of Mel, who hadn’t come to the wedding. Jools had hoped she might at least show up to offer support, even if she hated Jools and knew the whole thing was fake.

Just as she was drifting off to sleep, there was a rap on her window. She tried her best to ignore it but it grew more violent and loud. Groaning, she forced herself to get up, thinking it was probably a rent boy Michel had hired courtesy of Rodney, or someone equally foul. She pushed the window open a crack.

A weedy guy appeared out of the darkness, looking about as sinister as an under-stuffed muppet in black, bride-napping attire.

Jumping back, Jools tried to recall where she had seen him. That’s right. The ferret-like freak she’d met at the beginning of her miSell auction.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she asked in a loud whisper, opening the window a couple more inches.

‘Just came to pay my respects to the bride,’ he hissed, moving closer, camera in hand.

Jools hadn’t seen Niles since that horrible day at the coffee shop. How could he know where she lived? And what was with the high-tech camera? Was he a pap? That was all she needed. Documented evidence of her humble beginnings as an miSell whore.

‘You’d better go before I call the police,’ she looked around the room for some kind of blunt object she could use if Niles tried to climb in. The best option was a rather heavy vase stationed on the bureau. It might not kill him but it would definitely knock him senseless. Not that he seemed to have much sense to begin with.

‘Don’t worry, Jools,’ Niles said, pimply nose stuck against the window, enjoying her fear. ‘I’m not here to harm you. I wouldn’t dream of it. That would ruin my whole plan.’

‘What plan?’ Jools edged toward the vase.

‘The plan where you spend eternity with me in my house in Slough. I’ve fixed it up for you real nice. You’ll like what I’ve done with the concrete floor and cinderblock walls.’

‘You’re a nutter,’ she spat at him. ‘I’d never come anywhere near your place. I’d rather choke on my own vomit.’

‘You’ll end up in Slough eventually, baby,’ he crooned, ‘and when you do, I’ll see to it you stay put. No more running away from Niles.’

Jools slammed the window shut, narrowly missing his hands, and drew the curtains.

‘I know what’s happening, Jools!’ Niles screamed from outside. ‘I know everything and you will submit to me!’

What the hell was he talking about? Jools stood behind the curtain, biting her nails. She hoped Michel was keeping Rodney aroused enough to ignore the noise.

How the hell had he overheard them? Maybe one of the car windows had been open? Or maybe her father had sold his story for the price of a hotel room and some Jack Daniel’s? Jools’ stomach dropped to her knees. In any event, the weasel knew the truth.

Niles thought for a moment. A date was better than nothing, but he suspected that the minute he left, she’d move house or get a bodyguard or an alarm or something, then tell him the date was off.

‘Come and live with me in Slough or I tell all. That’s the deal, my darling.’

Jools was exhausted and couldn’t cope with anything else tonight. A paltry existence underneath the bus garage with Skuttle was looking pretty good right about now.

‘Do what you want, you mentalist. I’m going to bed.’

She was about to shut the window when she heard Niles say quietly, ‘I’ll bring you down, and you’ll be sorry.’

‘You’re blackmailing me and I’m calling the police,’ Jools said, bluffing. Banging the window down again, she waited a moment, fully expecting Niles to try to break in. But after a few minutes everything was quiet.

Maybe she should tell the police? It wouldn’t be difficult to make out that Niles was a psycho, given that he was, in fact, a huge one.

But she’d need Rodney’s support.

Running from the room, she padded down the hall to Rodney’s door. Some unpleasant sounds were emanating from the bedroom. No. It could wait until tomorrow. The thought of interrupting him in the middle of whatever he was doing with Michel did not appeal to her in the slightest.

*

Niles left Jools’ place angry and frustrated. Her threat to call the police meant that even if he managed to spirit her away to Slough, the cops would probably be waiting on his front door step before he got her there.

If he couldn’t have her, that homosexual toff wasn’t getting her either. This time he had real ammunition. He could destroy her if he wanted to and – more than anything else – that was exactly what he wanted to do.

Taking a deep breath, Niles told himself to calm down. By tomorrow he would know if she had called the police. Leaking what he knew to the tabloids before then might lose him a trump card.

To fill the time, Niles decided to call the papers and explore the possibilities. He rang up
WhatNOW!
on his mobile and told them he had a hot story about a certain local politician and his new obese wife.

The young reporter was intrigued. ‘What is it, then?’

‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ Niles said. ‘First, tell me what kind of money we’re talking about.’

Reluctant to give Niles a hard number, the kid told him they’d have to check him out before they reached a deal. ‘But if it’s a solid lead, we’re talking somewhere in the realm of seventy-five grand.’

How ironic, Niles thought smugly – exactly what he would have paid for Jools. He grinned. If he couldn’t have Jools, a fat wad of cash was the next best thing.

Feeling a whole lot better about the situation, Niles made his way home to wait for the reporter’s call – and avoid one from the Old Bill.

Chapter 26

From: [email protected]

Subject: Message for Joolsy

How come you don’t answer your phone anymore? You promised me some cash and it’s quite difficult to live in London without dosh in my pocket. Call me, or I’ll have to come round.

Your father, Charlie Grand.

WHEN MONDAY MORNING rolled around, Jools got up and squashed herself in her best Chanel suit. Scraping her hair into a conservative bun, she put on just enough makeup to avoid looking like death in the inevitable photos.

Rodney hated it when she layered on the blusher, so she tried to go easy. It was important to maintain Rodney’s desired façade of dignified newlyweds.

She was already in enough hot water with her father back in the country and Niles skulking about in the undergrowth; she didn’t need any more trouble.

When Jools and Rodney arrived in Hampshire, Jools was horrified to discover that the meet-and-greet was at the head office of the Commercial Bank London – the same bank that had supplied her small-business loan and was taking her to court over non-payment. Shit. She’d meant to ring those court people and sort something out, using one of Rodney’s cheques of course, but with all the wedding hoopla she’d completely forgotten.

Hoping desperately that Horace Fortescue wasn’t around, it was extremely disappointing to find him standing right there at the front door, waiting to greet a very important guest and his new, spendthrift wife.

From the look on his face, it was obvious Horace had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. He didn’t even pause for pleasantries.

‘You owe this institution £25,872.11.’

Shutters were snapping happily now and several reporters, sensing a fresh kill, swarmed in like vultures. Jools didn’t know which way to turn or what to say.

Luckily, Rodney knew what to say. ‘I’m sure there’s some mistake,’ he pulled the banker aside. ‘My wife is actually very good with money.’

‘Certainly. Just pay this institution every last penny of the money she owes and instruct her never to set foot through our doors again.’

Rodney struggled to keep himself in check when all he wanted to do was turn around and berate Jools. He reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a long, leather wallet. Walking over to a desk, Rodney wrote out a cheque for nearly twenty-six thousand pounds. Jools cringed as the tab she’d been keeping in her head grew to an unfathomable number.

On the ride home, Rodney didn’t utter a word despite her feeble attempts at conversation. He just stared out the window, trying to convince himself that the whole thing was a horrible nightmare and tomorrow morning he’d wake up wrapped in Michel’s firm, hairy arms.