Stand by Me (32 page)
Dominique stared at him. ‘Why would she do that? Does she think I’d spend the money myself?’ she asked, outraged. She wanted to phone Stephanie back but Greg told her not to bother, that she wasn’t important in the whole scheme of things, and not to let herself get wound up by a silly woman.
‘She’s not a silly woman!’ cried Dominique. ‘I thought she was my friend.’ She rubbed her eyes furiously. ‘How can she possibly think ...’ The tears slid from beneath her fingertips.
‘Come on, Domino.’ Greg put his arms around her. ‘Don’t cry.’
She let him hold her for a moment. It was good to feel the strength of his arms, good to know that - as always - he was there for her.
After about the hundredth phone call of the day, Greg replaced the receiver and looked at Dominique anxiously.
‘They’re bringing the Fraud Squad in to look through Brendan’s finances,’ he said.
Dominique, unable to cry any more, looked at him blankly.
‘It’s a complicated financial situation,’ Greg told her. ‘The fact that Brendan has gone missing concerns them.’
‘Daddy didn’t rob his own company.’ Kelly was defiant. ‘People are trying to make him out to be some kind of master criminal. That’s not true.’
‘I know that,’ said Greg. ‘But you can’t stop rumours and speculation.’
‘I asked him,’ said June fiercely. ‘I asked him a few months ago how things were going, because I was reading in the paper about other people’s financial problems, and he told me that everything was perfectly fine and that Delahaye Developments was a strong company.’
‘Maybe everything
was
perfectly fine a few months ago,’ said Greg.
was
perfectly fine a few months ago,’ said Greg.
‘Oh, come on!’ June’s expression was full of disdain. ‘Things don’t turn around that much. If there was something wrong, it was wrong then and he knew it but—’
‘Get out of my house.’ Dominique spoke a little too loudly and startled even herself. ‘Go on, June. Get out. Emma’s right. You’re not being supportive and you’re just making things worse. All you’re thinking of is yourself and Barry. You don’t care about Brendan at all.’
‘I’m thinking about myself and Barry and my
three
children,’ retorted June. ‘I have a family to worry about, you know.’
three
children,’ retorted June. ‘I have a family to worry about, you know.’
‘And I don’t?’
‘Oh, come on!’ June snorted. ‘There’s only you and Kelly and she’s her daddy’s spoiled princess, so nothing to worry about there, I’m sure she has a massive trust fund while the rest of us are destroyed.’
‘June!’ This time it was Greg who spoke. ‘You’re not being helpful. Really you’re not. I know it’s a stressful time for you. But at least you have your family around you. Brendan is missing.’
June looked at them defiantly. ‘Brendan brought whatever it is upon himself. And he’s missing with other people’s money, something you’re all conveniently ignoring. Barry and I are just innocent bystanders.’
‘Domino and Kelly are innocent bystanders too.’
June opened her mouth and then closed it again.
‘Please go,’ said Dominique tiredly. ‘I know you’re upset. I know you don’t mean everything you’re saying. But you mean some of it and I can’t bear listening to you right now. So go.’
‘All right,’ said June huffily. ‘I need to talk to the children anyway. Barry is still holed up with Matthew and the liquidator or the receiver or whoever the damn hell is running the show now. He’s the one taking all the flak, you know.’
Dominique nodded. ‘Yes. I’m very sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault, Domino,’ said Emma. She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll go too, to check on things at home. Then I’ll come back.’
‘What about Lugh?’
‘I’ll bring him to Lily’s, don’t worry.’
‘Thanks, Emma.’
‘That’s OK.’ Emma gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
The house seemed very empty after Emma and June had left. Greg suggested that he make some tea and went into the kitchen. Dominique sat on the sofa, staring unseeingly in front of her, while Kelly sent and received texts on her mobile phone.
‘Are you worried?’ asked Kelly. Her phone had briefly fallen silent.
‘Of course.’
‘What d’you think’s happened to Dad?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What will happen to us?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
‘I mean, you read about people losing everything. But that’s not possible, is it? We’re all right, aren’t we? It’s not our fault that the company has gone bust. I bet it’s not Dad’s fault either. And I don’t believe he’s robbed anyone. He wouldn’t do that, would he?’
‘Of course he wouldn’t. When we find him, we can worry about the future of the company and everything else. Meantime, he’s all that matters.’
‘He’s all right,’ said Kelly. ‘I know he is.’
‘I know that too,’ said Dominique, although what she didn’t know was whether she was saying the words to comfort herself or to comfort her daughter.
The gardai came to the house. Detective Inspector Peter Murphy had a search warrant. Dominique had never seen a search warrant before. She looked at it in disbelief.
‘Maybe we should get some legal advice, Domino,’ said Greg. ‘Before we allow the guards to tramp all over the house.’
‘The warrant is valid,’ said Peter Murphy. ‘We’re entitled to search the premises and that’s what we’re going to do. You may of course get legal advice - it’s a good idea - but that won’t make any difference to what we’re doing now.’
‘Let them search,’ said Dominique to Greg. ‘If they discover something that helps us find Brendan, that’s a good thing.’
‘Perhaps.’ Greg looked sceptical. ‘But—’
‘It’s OK,’ she told the policeman. ‘Go ahead.’
Dominique felt as though she was watching a TV drama as the gardai began to walk through the house. They were unfailingly polite and methodical about what they were doing, but they were systematically taking Brendan’s office apart and removing files. All the time they searched, she wondered how she would react if they found evidence of another woman. She wished she hadn’t stopped her own search at Brendan’s almost empty bedside cabinet.
‘Any chance of a cup of tea, Mrs Delahaye?’ asked Peter, who had stayed in the living room while the rest of the gardai began the search.
She stared at him. He was a tall, lanky man with tousled sandy hair and light blue eyes.
‘You don’t have to make them tea, Domino,’ said Greg.
‘I will,’ she said. ‘It’s something to do.’
She went into the kitchen. One of the gardai was looking in the cupboards. She ignored him as she filled the kettle and clicked it on to boil. Then she took mugs from the mug tree and put them on a tray. As she picked it up to carry it into the living room, she had a sudden flashback to the night when Brendan had called to her house to take her to the twenty-first birthday party. That was the night it had all begun, she realised. The night they’d made love in a field and the night she’d got pregnant. Everything that had happened in her life had happened as a result of that one night. Even this.
‘Was your husband planning on going away, Mrs Delahaye?’ asked Peter Murphy as one of the gardai came into the living room and spoke into his ear.
‘I told you,’ she said. ‘He was in Dublin. He had a meeting.’
‘He wasn’t planning on going somewhere else? For a longer period of time?’
‘No!’ she cried. ‘Of course he wasn’t.’
‘He doesn’t have other friends he might stay with?’
‘Friends? What sort of friends?’ Dominique stared at him, and Peter Murphy shrugged.
Did he mean female friends? wondered Dominique. Women? Other women? Was that the way the police were thinking? That Brendan was having an affair? That he’d robbed the company to pay for it?
‘Can you come upstairs with us?’ Peter put his empty mug on the table.
She stood in front of Brendan’s walk-in wardrobe, her eyes wide with shock. She’d looked in the bedside cabinet to see if she could find out where he was, but it had never occurred to her to look in his wardrobe, because he had clothes both in Cork and in Dublin and she’d assumed that he had whatever he needed with him. Yet almost all of his clothes were gone. The Louis Copeland suits, the Thomas Pink shirts and the Ferragamo ties had all been removed. The wooden hangers and tie racks rattled forlornly on the chrome rail. Dominique suddenly whirled away from the wardrobe and pulled at the drawers in the high chest beside it. Not everything had gone - there were a few T-shirts and jumpers still neatly folded - but she knew that there was more missing than was still there.
‘This is insane,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe he would ...’ and then she sat down on the edge of the bed and held her head in her hands, unable to take in what it might mean.
She was still sitting on the bed when Greg came upstairs. He walked into the bedroom and looked around.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Dominique.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Brendan’s clothes are gone.’
Greg glanced at Peter Murphy. The detective was looking impassively at Dominique.
‘When did he do that?’ asked Greg.
‘I . . . don’t know.’ Dominique was remembering the sounds in the middle of the night, when she’d been sure that she’d heard Brendan come home. Sounds of him coming up the stairs, going into the spare room. Vague sounds. But she would surely have heard him come into their own bedroom and take away all his clothes!
‘What sort of person would you say your husband is, Mrs Delahaye?’ asked Peter Murphy.
‘A good person,’ she told him. ‘Really.’ She shivered.
Greg took her hand in his and squeezed it comfortingly.
‘He didn’t say anything to you about going away?’
‘No.’
He didn’t have to have taken all the clothes last night, she realised. He could have done it any time. She never checked his things. She did all the laundry, but a woman from the village, Dolores, collected the ironing every week and returned it pressed and folded the following day. Dominique only ever looked in Brendan’s wardrobe and chest of drawers when she was putting away the ironing. The wardrobe could, in fact, have been empty all week and she wouldn’t have known.
‘But he seems to have taken clothes with him,’ said Peter Murphy.
‘I know.’
‘So . . . he said nothing to you?’
‘I already told you!’ she cried. ‘I don’t know where he is! I didn’t know he’d done this. I ...’
‘Hey,’ said Greg as she started to cry again. ‘Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be all right.’
‘I don’t think so.’ She took her hand from his and wiped her eyes. ‘I don’t know what’s happening but I don’t think anything’s going to be all right. He’s gone and I don’t know where. And I don’t know why either.’
What she did know, though, was that her worst fear had been realised. Brendan had finally left her. She was on her own.
The news about Delahaye Developments’ collapse and Brendan’s disappearance had gathered pace all through the day, so that it was the lead story on the evening bulletin. Dominique watched in numbed fascination as the news station’s top reporter spoke animatedly to the camera while standing outside the locked gates of the company’s office in the business park Brendan had built.
‘ ... one of Cork’s most prominent businessmen,’ the reporter was saying. ‘His wife, Dominique, is even better known on the Irish social and charity circuit, where she is responsible for large donations to various worthy causes.’
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