Silent Truths (37 page)

It was gone five by the time Elliot drove out of the airport. It would take him at least two hours to get back to Limehouse now, so he rang Rhona’s mobile to tell her to expect him at eight. He had one more call to make this side of London, which was one he’d much rather avoid, but in the light of recent events he couldn’t see how to. However, turning up unannounced wasn’t the way to go, so dialling a number he hadn’t used in over a year, he inched back on to the A4, heading towards Windsor.

‘Hello?’ a male voice answered.

Elliot recognized it immediately. ‘Mr Forbes,’ he said. ‘I know this call might not be welcome –’

‘Elliot?’ Dennis Forbes interrupted.

‘Yes,’ Elliot confirmed. ‘But before you ring off –’

‘I’m not ringing off. How are you? We haven’t seen you since the funeral.’

Not what Elliot had expected, such a direct reference to Lysette’s death, and in a friendly tone. He had to admit it had thrown him. ‘Uh, I’ve been busy,’ he said lamely. Then, ‘Frankly, I thought I’d be the last person you’d want to see.’

‘You’re talking about Laurie,’ Forbes said. ‘Mindy and I could do with seeing you. We’ve all got things we need to say. It’s probably time we said them.’

Elliot balked. His reason for going was to solicit Forbes’s support in getting Laurie to give up the Ashby story, which was bad enough, but hauling out all those buried emotions … ‘Of course,’ he said, hedging. ‘I was hoping we could. When would be a good time to come?’

‘Whenever’s convenient for you,’ Forbes answered. ‘We’re here.’

Elliot fell silent. Maybe he should go now. But no, worrying Dennis about Laurie’s involvement in the Ashby story was not what the man needed, and he could only feel surprised at himself now for considering it at all. Besides, were Laurie ever to find out that he’d spoken to her father, well, he could handle Laurie, just, but Dennis he couldn’t. At least not at this moment. So after promising to be in touch soon, he ended the call, made a quick U-turn and headed back into London.

By the time he pulled up in Ropemaker’s Fields, the offshoot of Narrow Street where Andrew and Stephen lived, it was just after seven thirty and Stan Bright, the private eye he’d contacted en route, had already set up watch outside.

Inside, Laurie was propped up in bed drinking tea and watching the Channel 4 news, while Rhona chatted to someone on her mobile phone.

‘I didn’t think you were coming back,’ Laurie remarked tartly, flicking off the TV as Elliot leant against the doorframe.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re still dreaming,’ he told her.

‘You call
you
being in the room a dream?’ she responded.

He couldn’t help but laugh, and reluctantly she
smiled too. ‘So, where have you been?’ she asked.

‘To see a man about a syndicate.’

Her eyes rounded. ‘And?’

He glanced at Rhona. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ he said. ‘But I’ve got more names. Liam and Jed are our financial whizz-kids – they’re working on the things I picked up in Zurich. We should have a bit more to go on once we’ve run a check on the latest players. At the moment euro seems to be the name of the game.’

‘Was Gatling mentioned?’

‘Yep.’

‘Excuse me, darlings,’ Rhona said, putting a hand over the mouthpiece as she slunk past Elliot, ‘this is getting rather personal now, so I’ll just pop upstairs.’

Elliot turned to watch her go, then looked at Laurie again. He didn’t move any further into the room, nor did she invite him to. She simply leant over to put her cup on the nightstand, then groaned as a wave of nausea swept through her.

‘God, my head hurts,’ she grumbled.

He nodded towards the painkillers on the nightstand.

She took two with the tea, waited for the spinning to stop, then said, ‘Any news on whether or not I’m likely to get my computer back?’

‘Wilbur’s sending over a replacement. Have you eaten?’

‘I couldn’t face it. What about you?’

‘Starving.’

‘The kitchen’s upstairs. As I recall, you’re a great cook. Just a minute, so you’ve talked to Wilbur about this?’

‘Sort of. Weren’t you supposed to be on an assignment today?’

‘Yes, but –’

‘Someone had to let him know you wouldn’t be there. Now, I think you should eat something. I take it you do have food up there?’

‘Rhona went shopping while you were out.’ She was starting to get panicky all of a sudden. This was too much like old times, too comfortable and friendly. She didn’t want to look at him any more. He seemed too tall, overpowering, and painfully familiar. Her eyes closed as the intense throbbing in her head increased, and the tension in her chest started to hurt. ‘Please, just help yourself,’ she said quietly.

When she opened her eyes again he’d gone, but a few minutes later she heard him talking to Rhona in the kitchen. Wanting to avoid him coming back to the bedroom, she threw off the sheet, put her feet on the floor and gingerly stood. The dizziness wasn’t too bad – it only took a few moments to pass – then she was making her way shakily across the room towards the walk-in closet. By the time she’d tugged a pair of denim shorts on under her giant T-shirt and cleaned her teeth, she felt so well recovered that the stairs might not have seemed daunting at all had she not caught sight of herself in the mirror and started to reel. She looked at her hairbrush and winced. Had any such instrument ever appeared more like a weapon of torture?

When finally she walked into the kitchen, twin patches of blusher on her cheeks and one half of her hair brushed flat while the other remained matted and on end, there was only Elliot, sitting at the
counter-bar eating a sandwich.

‘Where’s Rhona?’ she asked, shuffling over to get some water from the filter.

He raised his eyes towards the roof terrace. ‘How many men does she have?’ he said, taking another bite.

Laurie’s mouth was watering as she looked at the double layers of fresh crusty bread, with a creamy dressing oozing out of the sides. ‘According to Rhona, never enough,’ she answered. ‘What’s in that?’

‘Cheese, ham and coleslaw.’ He took another bite and Laurie’s mouth almost moved with his as he chewed.

‘Shame you’re not hungry,’ he commented. ‘This is good.’

She was staring at the other half, sitting like exposed prey on a plate. ‘Well, I could probably –’

‘Here,’ he said, pushing it towards her.

She looked up and, seeing the mirth in his eyes, she might have withdrawn if she had the will. But hunger won out.

‘So what about you?’ he said as she positioned the two-inch-thick sandwich ready to bite.

She frowned. ‘What about me?’

He watched her chomp down hard on far too big a mouthful. ‘Men,’ he said. ‘Are you seeing anyone these days?’

‘Mmm, hm, nnn, mmm hm,’ she responded, pressing her fingers to her lips. ‘Not really,’ she finally managed. ‘Well, nothing serious.’

‘What about Greg?’

‘That’s over.’ She took another more modest mouthful and wished Rhona would hurry up on
the phone. This was getting too personal again. ‘What about you?’ she said after a while. ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

‘Nothing serious,’ he answered.

She nodded.

He started to ask how her parents were, then, remembering the response he’d got last time, thought better of it, and said instead, ‘You know, any time you want to talk … I mean, we don’t have to at all, but if you feel the need to …’

Her heartbeat didn’t feel steady. He was referring to Lysette, of course, but she wanted to tell herself it was Ashby. In the end she said, ‘We shouldn’t make that a part of this.’

‘No. You’re probably right.’ He finished his sandwich then went to get more wine from the fridge. ‘By the way, Stan’s outside,’ he told her. ‘I’ll give you his mobile so you can let him know when you’re ready to say hello.’

She frowned. ‘Stan?’ But even as she said it she remembered and was about to protest, when the idea of being watched over for the next few days didn’t seem quite so bad after all. ‘I’ve started worrying about the code,’ she confessed as he refilled his glass with a crisp-looking Australian chardonnay. ‘If they can’t work it out, do you think they’ll come back?’

His dark eyes were expressionless as they looked at her. ‘Just introduce yourself to Stan,’ he said.

His failure to deny it made her heart contract and the dizziness was returning to her head. ‘You think they will, don’t you?’ she said.

‘It’s possible. So we need to sit down tomorrow and go over everything you can remember that was
on the computer. I don’t suppose you have back-ups?’

‘Actually, yes. But they’ve gone too.’

He took a sip of wine and watched her over the rim of the glass. His eyes seemed suddenly relentless, as though they were boring right into her mind. She wanted to pull away, but even when her eyelids dropped she still felt bound by that invasive stare.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, putting a hand to her head. ‘Maybe I’m not …’

She didn’t finish, nor did he say anything. He merely continued to watch her, until finally she rescued herself the only way she knew how. ‘I’ve been thinking about the Ashby women,’ she said, asserting herself on a professional level. ‘The wife and the mistress, not the mother.’

His expression showed interest.

‘What’s the mistress like?’ she asked.

‘Down to earth. Friendly. Very open.’

‘Have you ever met the wife?’

‘Once or twice. I can’t say I know her.’

‘Do you know if they’ve ever met?’

‘Heather says not.’

‘Do you believe her?’

‘I think so. Why?’

Laurie watched him as he drank more wine. Then, raising her eyes from his hand, she said, ‘I’ve wondered if all three of them might be in it together, Colin, Beth and Heather, working some kind of master plan that’ll rip off the syndicate to the tune of millions and buy them a safe haven somewhere in the sun.’

Though Eliot seemed surprised, he nodded
slowly, mulling the suggestion over as he stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed them.

‘But even if that’s true,’ she said, ‘how they’d pull it off is beyond my powers of deduction, especially when Ashby’s on remand for murder.’

‘And why would they need to kill Sophie?’ he pointed out.

She had no answer for that, and was in fact noticing the white Lacoste shirt that Lysette had given him. She even remembered going with her to choose it, and thinking at the time how good he looked in white, being so dark. ‘Is there any chance of you talking to Beth Ashby?’ she asked abruptly, knowing it would be giving away the biggest part of this for her, but if he stood more chance than she did she’d make herself accept it.

‘Not that I know of,’ he answered. ‘Did you know they’re supposed to be getting divorced?’

Laurie nodded. ‘Yes. He told me. I confess I found that very odd. Why would they do it now, at a time when most men would be trying to tie their wives to them as tightly as possible?’

‘Heather Dance says he’s wanted to end the marriage for some time.’

‘Do you believe that?’

‘I think
she
does. Certainly she’s in regular touch with him, whereas Beth apparently isn’t.’

As he raised a hand to comb his fingers through his hair Laurie’s gaze moved to the watch on his wrist. It wasn’t one she remembered. Then she looked at his scowl and suddenly remembered too much.

Finally his eyes came back to hers, but as he
started to speak, he frowned again. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Why?’

‘You’ve gone pale.’

‘It’s my natural colour,’ she said, feeling strangely shaky and edgy.

He looked at her hard.

She looked back, and tried to summon her defences. Why was she suddenly losing it like this? What had happened? Where was her mind going?

‘That’s enough for now,’ he declared. ‘You need to get some more rest.’

Picking up his glass and plate he walked round the counter-top towards her.

She watched him warily, senses swimming. When he reached her he stopped and looked down into her eyes. He was so close she could smell the male scent of him, and almost feel him, though he wasn’t touching her at all. For one breathless moment as he leant towards her, to put his plate and cup in the sink, she thought he was going to kiss her. Her lips parted as she struggled for air. She had no idea what was happening. She couldn’t make herself think straight. Then finally relinquishing the hold on her eyes he returned to his stool.

Turning away quickly she wondered if he’d known she’d wanted his kiss. Oh, please God, no he hadn’t. This was insufferable. Unthinkable. She meant no more to him than Lysette ever had, and that she could still want him like this, after everything that had happened, and after so much time had passed, was so horrendous she could hardly stand it. She wished he would go. She wanted to
scream and rant and loathe herself in private. She wanted to berate God and the world and the universe for the weakness she’d struggled so hard to overcome. But how was she ever going to when they kept being thrown together like this?

‘You know, I think I might need to lie down again,’ she said, somehow keeping her voice steady. ‘You don’t have to stay any longer. Rhona’s here.’

He didn’t answer right away, but she couldn’t turn round. The air of professionalism had vanished. It was entirely personal now, and she knew he sensed it. It was as though everything they were avoiding was right there, waiting to be confronted, no longer willing to hide behind a pretence. This was getting out of hand. She wasn’t in control and she didn’t know what would happen if she looked at him again. With all her might she willed him just to leave, until finally, mercifully, she heard him get up and walk to the door.

‘I know this isn’t going to be easy,’ he said, ‘for either of us, and I won’t ask for your forgiveness again. I just want you to believe that I never meant it to happen. If I’d known –’

‘Don’t say any more,’ she sobbed, pressing her hands to her face. ‘Please, just don’t say any more.’

A moment or two later she heard the front door close downstairs behind him, followed by the Porsche roaring off down the street. By then all the tears she’d kept bottled up since early that morning were erupting in harsh, racking sobs and coursing hard down her cheeks. She knew it was the shock coming out, and she’d keep telling herself that, but she knew too that she’d just hurt him again, and
she desperately wanted to go after him, and tell him she did believe it, because of course he hadn’t meant it to happen, no one had, and the one who was really to blame wasn’t him at all. It was her.