The Other Woman (28 page)

‘Anyway – I thought you just said you believed Drummond?' she asked.

‘I know,' Lloyd sighed. ‘But every time I say it, my instinct shakes its head.'

She smiled.

‘I don't believe that Sharon died as the result of a lovers' quarrel,' he said. ‘I
don't
believe Drummond, and I'm damn sure that Parker knows more than he's saying.' He flicked the indicator down, and began signalling the left turn. ‘So let's call on Jake Parker,' he said.

So much for getting home early.

‘Look – I want to know if I'm getting paid for this!' demanded the taxi driver, jerking his thumb towards the meter.

Melissa sighed, and felt in her bag for her purse, opened it, and thrust a twenty-pound note into his hand. ‘All right?' she said. ‘Now, just … drive round. I don't
care
where you go.'

He looked at the note, and at her, and shrugged. ‘God, I get them,' he muttered, as he turned back to the wheel, and carried out his instructions. ‘They're never going to believe this one.'

‘Does this thing close?' Melissa asked, tapping the glass partition.

He closed it.

Melissa sat back, and took a deep, calming breath. Once, there would have been cigarettes and matches in that bag, but she had given up. She looked for a moment at the back view of the disgruntled cabby, but decided against it. She could survive without nicotine.

What was in her bag was her tape-recorder, and the tape. Play it, he had shouted. Melissa pulled out the recorder, and opened the cassette housing. It took three goes before she got the right tape; it took some time to establish the fact, having to wait, as she did, until the taxi went under some sort of illumination.

Sharon Smith
.

Her hand trembled slightly as she put it in; she waited for more light, found the play button, and pressed it.

‘
… his first cap for England. Rob Bailey spoke to him at his home …
'

She ran it on.

‘
… to bring on young tennis players, because until we do we

Jake put down the decanter without pouring his drink, and thought for a moment before walking slowly towards the door. It was Sunday; he was unlikely to have any business callers, and he didn't have any other kind, except police. It was survival of the fittest in this game, as Lionel Evans would shortly find out. He opened the door to Chief Inspector Lloyd and the inspector whom Bobbie said had been all right.

Lloyd smiled. ‘Good evening, Mr Parker,' he said. ‘I think perhaps we need the answers to some questions.'

Jake had known that Lloyd wouldn't let him continue to declare that his conversation with Sharon was confidential, but he was a little taken aback by the approach. He had grown used, in his younger days, to being bundled into cars and taken in for questioning; of recent years, with his growing affluence, he had even met the odd bit of forelock-tugging. He had known eminently corruptible police officers, and rigidly unbending police officers. He didn't know at which end of the range to put the pleasant, smiling, but ever so slightly sinister Mr Lloyd.

‘Come in,' he said. ‘I've been expecting you.'

They went into the living room; Jake switched on the light, and waved a hand at the floral three-piece suite. Inspector Hill took the armchair. Lloyd didn't sit.

Jake took out his cigarettes and offered one to Lloyd, and the inspector, who both shook their heads. ‘You don't mind if I do?' he said.

‘Not at all,' said Lloyd. ‘It's your house, Mr Parker.'

Jake lit the cigarette before he spoke again. ‘I've not been entirely straight with you, Mr Lloyd,' he said.

‘No,' said Lloyd, gently touring the room, not looking at Jake. ‘I didn't think you had.' He stood looking at the owner's choice of prints. ‘Are you going to be straight with me now?' he asked, taking out spectacles and looking more closely at one picture. Not exactly, thought Jake. But then you don't imagine for one moment that I would tell you all my business, I'm sure, Mr Lloyd.

‘Sharon Smith didn't just come to say hello,' he said.

‘No,' said Lloyd, looking back at him, removing his classes as he did so.

Jake reached across for the ashtray, and rolled the tip of his cigarette round to remove the ash. ‘No – but it wasn't what you thought, either,' he said to the inspector, then turned back to Lloyd. ‘I misled you a bit about that,' he said.

‘About what?'

‘Sharon and me. There was nothing between us. Sharon worked for me, that's all.' He smiled. ‘She was very quiet, very shy – not really my type at all. And I don't suppose it's too likely that I was hers.'

‘Why did you mislead me?' asked Lloyd, sitting down at last.

‘You wanted to know why I wanted to talk to Sharon, so I gave you a reason.' Jake was glad that he too could sit; he wouldn't before, so as not to be at a disadvantage.

‘Why not the real reason?'

‘Because she came to tell me something,' Jake said. ‘And as far as I was concerned, it was my problem – not yours, not anyone else's. Just mine.' He got to his feet again. ‘I'm forgetting my manners,' he said to the inspector. ‘Can I get you something to drink – I was just going to have one.'

‘No thank you,' she said. ‘ Not on duty, and all that. But you go ahead.'

‘Ah. Coffee, then.'

‘That would be very nice,' she said, smiling. ‘Thank you.'

‘Mr Lloyd?'

‘Yes – black, please. No sugar.'

Jake stubbed out his cigarette, and went through to the kitchen, busying himself with the coffee, with finding out how the inspector took hers, with producing biscuits, while he worked out how best to tell his story. He would have preferred to have gone to the police himself, with it all rehearsed, but he
had
underestimated Mr Lloyd again. If anyone had ever told him that he would be producing coffee and biscuits for the Bill, he would have laughed. But they were being polite and civilised, and he would be too.

He put everything on a tray, and brought it into the living room, where Lloyd had irritatingly resumed his inspection of the artwork. Jake set the tray down on the coffee table. ‘ It seems Sharon was using the computer at work, and happened to get into an accounts programme that she didn't recognise,' he said.

Lloyd turned to look at him as he spoke. The inspector picked up her coffee. Neither of them said anything.

Jake carried on. ‘You'll appreciate that a lot of money is held from time to time on behalf of Parker Development by Evans and Whitworth until it can be released.'

Lloyd nodded.

Jake picked up Lloyd's coffee cup and placed it on the silly table with the spindly legs beside the armchair. Lloyd smiled, and gave up his art appreciation to sit down.

‘Well,' said Jake, sitting. ‘Sharon was puzzled. Money had been leaving those accounts and going to holding companies that she knew nothing about. She worked for me, remember – she knew most of my business. She could see no reason why such large sums of money should be being moved about – and she thought it all seemed a bit fishy.'

Lloyd had begun to look sceptical, but that was all right. He could be as sceptical as he liked; Jake was certain that nothing could be proved against him. Lionel had done it all.

Jake picked up his own coffee. They sat around like WI ladies at afternoon tea, and yet he felt as though this was a sword fight in which only he was participating. ‘ She thought I might be trying a tax dodge, but she doubted it. So she came to me, and asked.' He tried to keep the edge of desperation out of his voice, but he wasn't convinced he was succeeding.

At last, Lloyd spoke, but not until he had picked up his cup and saucer, sipped his coffee, set it down again, and looked at Jake a bit like he had been looking at the prints, with a measure of distaste.

‘Why would she doubt that you were dodging taxes, Mr Parker?' he asked.

Jake smiled, unruffled by the implication, just glad that he was no longer making a speech. ‘She knew how I operated,' he said. ‘It didn't smell right.'

‘Not your usual style of tax evasion?'

‘Avoidance,' said Jake.

He carried on, in the absence of another question. ‘ She said she was meeting someone – I don't know who. She asked if she could change – well, I've told you all that. Anyway – I sent a last-minute invitation to Lionel to come to the do – he never passes up the chance of free hospitality,' he added. ‘I thought it had to have been Whitworth – he's only been there a few months, and Lionel's as straight as a die, or so I thought. I wanted to talk to him about it. He came, and I told him what Sharon had told me.'

Lloyd picked up his coffee, and drank half the cup, black, sugarless, and still piping hot, as Jake had discovered. He hardly seemed to be listening, but the inspector was jotting down notes while he spoke; Jake smiled at her when she looked up.

‘When did you see Sharon?' she asked.

‘We were out on the balcony, and I saw her down on the terraces. I thought we should both talk to her, try to get to the bottom of it. We went down to the terraces – I thought Lionel was with me, but when I turned to speak to him, he had gone.'

‘But you still spoke to Sharon?'

Jake nodded. ‘I was going to tell her that I'd spoken to Lionel, but before I got the chance, this bloke launches himself at me. I fought back, and then I was grabbed from behind – and you know the rest.'

Lloyd looked at him speculatively. ‘I don't think we do,' he said.

Jake smiled. ‘I don't know what you mean, Mr Lloyd,' he said.

‘In the early hours of Saturday morning you were told that Sharon Smith had been murdered,' said Lloyd. ‘And you lied to me. You had started the fight, you said – you were jealous. Why did you do that, Mr Parker?'

‘You know why,' Jake said. ‘I thought maybe someone had put him up to it – I wanted to find out who.'

‘Private justice,' said Lloyd quietly.

‘Not for Sharon,' said Jake. ‘I won't try to kid you, Mr Lloyd – Sharon meant nothing to me. But she was dead, and the only person who knew that she had been to see me was Evans.' He lit another cigarette. ‘I don't like being cheated,' he said.

It was quite a convincing story, he thought, given that he hadn't really had time to prepare. He was admitting that he had lied to the police, and that he had intended dealing with Evans himself. The fact that his motive for going after Evans wasn't quite as stated would be unlikely to occur to anyone, but even if it did, they couldn't prove it. Giving up his dream of the good life had been the difficult bit; this bit was easy compared to that.

‘You think Evans killed her?' asked Lloyd.

‘He denied it,' said Jake. ‘ He reckoned she must have told Whitworth what she was going to do, and he got rid of her.' He was pleased with that – he hadn't rushed it. He had waited for the opening.

Lloyd raised his eyebrows. ‘And you believed him?'

Jake drew on the cigarette. ‘I don't know,' he said. ‘It could be true – or they could all three have been in on it.'

Lloyd nodded, and finished his coffee, saying nothing at all. It was the inspector who spoke next.

‘Why are you volunteering this information now?' she asked. ‘Why have you abandoned private justice?'

Jake had hoped that the information would be of sufficient interest for that question not to be asked, but this one was sharp. Not too sharp, he hoped. He drank some coffee, and took a long pull on his cigarette, and told the unvarnished truth. ‘ I've got other problems,' he said. ‘I want to get Bobbie away from here. Get her to the sunshine somewhere.'

Lloyd was walking about again; it unnerved Jake when he did that. He didn't speak, and he still didn't seem very interested.

‘But you were already planning to leave,' the inspector said. ‘Bobbie told me herself.'

Ah. She always seemed to be one jump ahead of him – Jake wasn't used to that. ‘Yes,' he said.

‘When did you make the arrangements to leave?' asked Lloyd.

Christ. Well – it wasn't a crime to arrange to leave the country. He could prove nothing. And he could find out what he wanted to know soon enough, by going round the travel agents.

‘Last month,' he said. ‘I know what you're thinking, Mr Lloyd – and I don't blame you. Whatever Evans or Whitworth or all three of them were up to, I'd much rather have been a part of it. But I wasn't. I just knew that it wasn't working out – I wanted to sell up. Evans must have got worried, because the money began to shift in much larger amounts after I'd told him that I was jacking it in – that's when Sharon noticed. Or got greedy. Or scared.'

Lloyd frowned. ‘ Mr Evans could simply move this money at will?'

‘Sure. Either of them could – in fact, Whitworth was the one actually dealing with my business. He could release it as and when – it was supposed to make for smoother negotiations, and make sure it was earning money for the investors while it was tied up. But it wasn't smoothing things – now I know why.'

‘Mr Parker, you realise that you will have to make a statement concerning all that you've just told me?'

Jake nodded briefly.

‘And that the fraud squad will be called in, and will be looking for any discrepancies which could indicate your involvement?'

Jake crushed out his cigarette. ‘Sure.' He didn't feel as confident as he sounded; Lloyd knew it, and the watchful inspector knew it. But he'd been careful. And Evans was an amateur. He'd be all right.