False Impression Read online

  As a campaign against Leon and Bea, it had had no lasting or fatal affects. Each of the attempts had been thwarted, some by chance and some by the intended victim’s quick reactions.

  Still they kept coming. Bea hugged herself. What next?

  ‘Shall I take a cuppa up to Anna?’ said Dilys, shoving one in Bea’s direction, too.

  Bea shook her head. ‘Leave it an hour. She’s just dropped off to sleep.’

  ‘I’ve phoned Keith, asked him to come back to look after us.’

  Bea nodded. Yes, that would be sensible. She needed to think. At that very moment, she ought to be down in the agency rooms, answering queries, dealing with clients. She suspected that the next distraction would be another attack on the agency. She took her mug of tea down the stairs and asked Carrie to come into her office.

  Carrie said, ‘We’re getting a lot of hate mail. It’s upsetting. The girls are behaving like Trojans, but it is making them nervous.’

  ‘Ah.’ Bea put her mug down. ‘I think I know where they’re coming from. We’ll get Keith to deal with them when he returns. Leon had a whole batch of them this morning and has taken his computer to the police, together with the tape we made of Jennifer’s confession. Anything else?’

  ‘A man came about the drains. He said a neighbour had been complaining that our drain was overflowing into his back garden. I asked which neighbour, and he didn’t know. I sent him off with a flea in his ear.’

  ‘Good for you. Carrie, I need time off. I need to think. Someone is bombarding us with false alarms.’

  Carrie grinned. ‘I wouldn’t have missed your throwing water over that man for anything.’

  ‘It was good, wasn’t it? Look, unless the sky falls in on us, I’m going to shut myself up and try to work out who is doing this, and why.’

  ‘Isn’t it Mr Leon’s brother?’

  ‘Leon said not, at first. Now he’s wondering if his brother has succumbed to Alzheimer’s and doesn’t know what he’s doing. And yes, I think the staff at the big house are involved.’ Bea rubbed her temples. ‘All these distractions … it’s as if they’re meant to stop us from … from what, that is the question.’

  It was clear enough that big brother was trying to destroy little brother. Wasn’t it? Big brother had even gone on record as saying so. He’d stirred up the bankers. He’d encouraged sacked managers to fight for reinstatement or compensation. He’d got his men to attack the college buildings.

  Discount the near murder of Anna. That had probably not been planned.

  Anna’s car had been vandalized. Hari had said that looked like an amateur’s attempt to inconvenience Anna, and Bea was inclined to agree with him. Yes, that was probably down to one of the men Anna had had to sack, getting his own back in petty fashion. Or one of the kitchen staff who had proved unsatisfactory. To be enquired about later.

  On the other hand, Leon had said that there’d been no vandalism at any of his companies outside London, which indicated …

  Well, it might not mean anything at all. Just that the men big brother was paying to annoy his little brother were London based and didn’t travel outside the area.

  But, Leon had said his brother had billions in the bank, and if you had billions in the bank then you could pay for hit men by the dozen. Hit men would go anywhere and do anything, to order, for money.

  Which meant that …

  She didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t turn on her own computer. She guessed it would be full of hate messages, even death threats.

  Leon hadn’t returned. She looked at her watch. Time to get some lunch? She couldn’t be bothered.

  He might still be at the police station. She hoped he’d had time to change. She grinned at the thought of his embarrassment at having to wear that outlandish rig-out. Still, it had got him safely away from the house. He’d be back this evening … if the house were still intact.

  Think, Bea, think!

  If these incidents were intended to distract, then what was it that needed to be kept hidden?

  Big brother’s motive was in plain view. So it probably – possibly – wasn’t that.

  She pulled the phone towards her and dialled. Asked for Inspector Durrell. ‘Yes, it’s me, and I know you’re busy. How are you?’

  ‘Mm. Actually, I have to thank you. We didn’t go out last night, but after the kids went to bed my wife and I had a good long talk. I’m putting in for a spot of leave straight away.’

  What a relief! Except that she desperately needed him to help her at the moment. She said, ‘Before you depart, could you look up something for me? I know you keep lists of unidentified bodies found in the Thames, or on dump sites, or in derelict housing. Could you check to see if there’s one which matches the description of Mr Adamsson, who is supposedly on holiday in France but probably isn’t?’

  Heavy breathing. ‘What makes you think he isn’t?’

  ‘It’s called sleight of hand. A conjuror’s trick. The magician shows us a card. He lets us all have a good look at it, and then distracts us with a lot of jiggery-pokery, so that we don’t see exactly what he does with it.’

  ‘You want me to ask someone in the Magic Circle how they perform the three card trick?’ He wasn’t joking, exactly. There was an edge to his voice.

  Bea refused to let herself be riled. ‘No, I want you to check that Mr Adamsson isn’t masquerading as a John Doe somewhere. Don’t say, “It’s not my case.” It won’t take you five minutes.’

  ‘What makes you think he’s dead?’

  ‘He was a conscientious little man who devoted his life to the Holland empire. If he’d really gone on holiday, he’d have left contact details. He’s living with an elderly father, remember? He’d worry that his father might fall or have a stroke while his back was turned. He’d leave his mobile on all the time – but, it appears that his mobile is out of service. Why? Take it from me, the situation stinks!’

  Should she remind him that he owed her one? No. That would not be right. She repeated, ‘It won’t take you five minutes. Ring me on my mobile.’ And disconnected.

  She crossed to the French windows, unlocked the grille that covered them, and threw them open … to be greeted by the penetrating chill of a spring day. A soft rain – more of a mist – was falling. At that moment she didn’t care about the cold or the rain. She wanted to be a long way away. She wanted to be on a South Seas beach, lying on a hammock in the sun, with a soft drink to hand. She wanted to be in the Swiss Alps, sitting in a restaurant with a stupendous view, wearing appropriate skiing gear. She wanted to be in a bistro in the south of France, exploring an interesting menu.

  Hadn’t she worked hard all her life, and wasn’t it time for her to relax and be cosseted, rather than have to look after the gaggle of geese currently occupying beds and settees in her house? She wished she could be rid of the lot of them. Shoo! Get out! Find somewhere else to play! And don’t come back.

  Well, Leon could come back.

  In fact – she looked at her watch – she was getting worried that he hadn’t phoned her or contacted her since he left. Of course, he was a busy man. If he extricated himself from this particular situation, he’d still be jet-setting around the world, scrutinizing accounts here, talking to managers there … making deals and unmaking them. He’d probably be buying a private jet soon.

  Did she want to be part of that life?

  No, sirree. No way. Definitely not.

  So why was she looking forward to his return?

  She wiped the rain from her face. Or was she crying? Hard to tell.

  Dear Lord, I hope you’re listening because I’m fresh out of courage on this one. Reinforcements needed, definitely. Some idea about what’s going on would be helpful. I’m feeling my way, blindfolded, through an obstacle course.

  The wind was chilly.

  What on earth was she doing on this bitter spring day, standing out in the open without even a coat! Enough of reality. Back to business. Her phone was ringing. She went back indoo
rs, to answer it. Without thinking.

  FOURTEEN

  ‘Bitch, you might have got away with it for a while, but …’

  Bea dropped the phone. Stared at it. Gulped. Put it back on the hand-rest.

  Oh. Nasty. Very.

  She found the emergency make-up bag she kept in her top drawer and attended to her hair – dishevelled – and lips – though this lipstick was too pale and not the one she usually wore. Her eyes looked heavy. Well, tough. She zipped the bag up and slammed it back into the drawer.

  Carrie put her head around the door. ‘Keith’s back. He came down to tell us not to worry if we’d heard the buzzer go under the mat upstairs, as he got Dilys to let him in. He, er, he’s had his hair cut.’

  Bea put on a bright smile. ‘Excellent. Thank you, Carrie. Is there anything desperately important that I should deal with this afternoon?’

  ‘The nasty messages keep coming but I told the girls to ignore them, and now they just giggle if one comes up on their screens. We understand they’re coming from someone who hates Mr Leon, and we all like him, so they’re coping.’

  ‘Excellent. I think we ought to shut early, don’t you? Who’s on duty tomorrow morning?’

  ‘I’ve swopped with one of the girls. I’ll be in myself.’

  ‘Thank you, Carrie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  Carrie disappeared. Bea closed her eyes and did some deep breathing exercises. They were supposed to calm her down, though they didn’t seem to be working today. She found her mobile and clipped it to her belt.

  Up the stairs we go. Ah, was that the buzzer under the mat at the front door? Whatever next?

  It was the police, responding to Keith’s phone call about a rogue camera in the porch. One small man and one large woman, both in uniform. Plods. Constables this and that.

  Dilys was there, fluttering, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. Behind her was a bulky, dark-haired stranger … no, not a stranger, but Keith, who’d had his hair cut and his beard trimmed by an expert. He looked, surprisingly, rather cute. And authoritative.

  ‘Do come in, officers,’ he was saying to the police. And to Bea, ‘Would you like me to deal with this? I’ll show the police the camera in the porch and take it down for them so you won’t have to be bothered about it any more.’

  Dilys was radiant. ‘Would everyone like a cup of tea in the kitchen? I think I can find some biscuits as well.’

  ‘Oh, thank you so much, Keith.’ Bea assumed, implausibly, a little old widow’s plaintive tones. ‘If you could deal with it for me, that would be wonderful. It’s all been so upsetting.’

  Keith winked at her, and she winked back. She was unsure whether to burst into tears, have hysterics or lie on the floor and have a toddler’s tantrum. The day was not proceeding according to any recognizable plan, was it?

  Dilys said, ‘I took up some more tea and biscuits to Anna. She said she was going to try to get up in a bit. I said she should rest because she still feels a bit shaky. She did ask if you were around, and I said you’d be up to see her when you could.’

  Thus directed, Bea climbed the stairs, saying she’d be back to give her statement to the police in a few minutes if they needed it. She found Anna standing at the window, looking down on the rainswept garden below. Her colour in general was better, but one eye was almost closed and the bruise on her face was a nice mix of red, green and yellow. Her hair was hanging loose. It could do with washing, but her hairdresser had chosen a good shade for the colour. There was no more than a touch of grey at the roots. She was wearing one of Bea’s silk dressing-gowns and slippers. An empty mug and some crumbs on a plate showed she’d eaten the biscuits and drunk her tea. Phials and tubes of arnica and creams were also there. Dilys had been busy.

  Bea said, ‘You’re feeling better?’

  ‘I need a day at a spa hotel. Whirlpool, massage. Every beauty treatment under the sun, including pedicure, manicure, waxing, and a face pack. Then I want to spend, spend, spend on a new outfit. From head to toe.’

  ‘A girl after my own heart,’ said Bea. ‘We’ll make it a double date, shall we?’

  ‘With champagne cocktails before lunch at the Ritz—’

  ‘I could do with another pair of boots,’ said Bea. ‘I have a “thing” about boots. I dream of them.’

  ‘Retail therapy works, every time.’

  ‘So it does. Are you strong enough for a debrief?’

  Anna sank back on to the bed. ‘Didn’t I tell you everything before? Was it last night? What day is it? I seem to have lost my mobile phone. I was going to ring the college to see how they’re getting on.’

  ‘It’s Friday afternoon. You can use my landline. There’s an extension in my bedroom next door.’

  ‘Just a quick call, then. I want to make sure they’ve switched to the new roster.’

  Bea showed Anna where the phone was and decided to put on her diamond ring, which she must have left on the dressing table. Yes, there it was.

  The phone rang, and before Bea could stop her, Anna picked it up and listened. ‘Oh!’ She crashed the phone down. ‘What the …!’

  Bea was annoyed that she hadn’t thought to take the call herself. ‘Was that another death threat? Sorry, I should have realized. We’re under siege. Leave the phone off the hook.’

  Anna had recovered enough to be angry. ‘Who on earth would—?’

  ‘That is the question. Are you well enough to hear what’s been going on and to help me work out who’s responsible?’

  ‘The police—’

  ‘They’re downstairs now, dealing with another of the incidents from which we’ve been suffering. Leon has gone to the police station with evidence of hate mail on his laptop and the taped confession of a girl whom you may know … calling herself Jennifer? Worked at the big house?’

  A shrug. ‘There are a lot of them. Unless they’ve been trained by us, I don’t suppose I’d know her.’

  ‘Understood. Now as I said, nasty things have been happening here. Death threats are only the latest. It looks as if Briscoe Holland is trying to destroy Leon and, because I have supported him, he’s also targeting the agency.’

  A long, hard stare from one blue eye. ‘You mean that it wasn’t the woman in the kitchen who left the gas on at the college?’

  ‘Possibly not.’

  ‘And made sure my car wouldn’t start?’

  ‘Maybe. That was certainly someone you’ve upset.’

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t be Briscoe.’ Anna was sure of that.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, he’s …’ Anna gestured widely. ‘I only met him once. The postman had left some mail with us that was meant for the big house, and I thought it would be only civil to take it up there myself. Leon had told me that everything was fine between him and his brother, each having their own sphere of influence. And indeed it was. I mean, Briscoe wasn’t in good health, you could see that. He was up and dressed and sitting in an armchair with a rug over his knees. He apologized because the room was very warm, and he feels the cold. He offered me tea, and we talked about my ideas for streamlining the timetable at the college. He said I knew what I was doing and that he’d have done the same himself, given the circumstances. Then he said he was tired and asked me to touch the bell for Angharad.’

  ‘Who’s Angharad?’

  ‘His housekeeper. Mrs Evans. Angharad is Welsh for “best beloved” but I don’t suppose anyone laughs when she says that’s her name. She’s a tough cookie, a real heavyweight and no great beauty, but she looks after him well. A couple of times she’s come down to the college, to check that no further mail has been left with us, though I did say I’d send anything else back up to him. And she came to the “do” when Leon handed the college over to me. I thought she was there to report to Mr Briscoe. Mind you, she didn’t look pleased at what we were doing.’

  ‘Is she connected to Mr Denver, who runs the security team at the big house?’

  ‘Dunno. But then, I wouldn’t, would
I?’

  ‘You’ve met Denver?’

  ‘Of course. Surly brute. Didn’t like being told not to include the college buildings in his rounds when I took over. Said he would if he felt it necessary to do so. I asked him to let me have any keys he might have to the college. He said he’d send them over. He did. They’re in a drawer in my desk.’

  ‘He may have kept spares.’

  Anna grimaced. ‘Or the keys he gave me weren’t for the college. Stupidly, I didn’t check.’

  Bea wandered over to the window, fingering her mobile. Why didn’t the inspector ring?

  Anna looked at the landline phone. ‘Do you think I might try the college now?’ She put the phone back on the hook, and it rang immediately. Anna put out her hand to touch it and withdrew. She tried to laugh. ‘Look at me, frightened I might hear myself abused.’

  Bea said, ‘Lift the phone, break the connection, and dial out.’

  ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

  ‘Because you’ve been knocked for six. You’re doing fine.’

  Anna lifted the phone, tightened her lips as she heard words she did not care for, broke the connection and dialled out.

  Bea’s mobile rang. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m not sure if it’s good news or bad.’ The inspector. ‘A John Doe who might match the description of your Mr Adamsson was found floating in the Thames. No one’s claimed him. Stripped to underwear, Marks and Sparks. No wallet, watch or ID. Soft hands, not a labourer. Medium height, short-sighted but didn’t wear contact lenses. Good teeth, expensively looked after. Brown hair, thinning. Presumed victim of robbery. You’d need more information to make a positive ID.’

  ‘You’ve informed the DI who’s in charge of the murders at the swimming pool?’

  ‘She says the body is nothing to do with her.’

  ‘She could get a positive ID through Adamsson’s father. He’d know who his dentist was.’

  ‘The inspector is about to have Margrete Walford’s husband rearrested. You know, the woman who was found dead in the car park? Apparently, her unit has broken what passed for an alibi for him. She doesn’t want to hear about anything else. And, I’ve just been rapped on the knuckles for trying to tell her how to do her job. I’ve got a couple of days in the office to clear my desk, and then I’m on leave.’