False Money (14 page)

Her darling husband had had several bibles and had used them all at different times, but this had always been his favourite so it was the one Bea read every night – well, most nights, anyway. During his last illness he'd given it to her, writing in it a note ‘with all my love'.

So, what had happened to Tomi's bible? When Bea had been looking through Tomi's belongings she'd picked up the bible, noted that there were various pieces of paper and cards stuck in it, and laid it aside to inspect later. According to Miss Drobny, Tomi's parents weren't strong Christians and might not want the bible. Probably the police had taken it, along with everything else belonging to the girl.

Only, if Tomi were anything like Bea, she might well have popped the odd note or even a photograph into her bible. It might be worth finding out.

The sky was bright blue, the sun shone, and the snow had melted away, leaving roads to turn a sluggish grey and then to dry. It was supposed to be an ordinary working day, but it didn't feel ‘ordinary'. Maggie and Oliver told Bea what they were planning to do that morning, and Bea failed to register a word they said. She'd woken up knowing exactly what she'd done with Tomi's bible. She'd been half sitting and half crouching on the floor over Tomi's boxes, had wanted to have another look at the bible and so had put it behind her somewhere. On the floor? On a chair? In the hurry and bustle that had occurred after that, she'd forgotten the bible. It might still be there.

Of course, there was no reason to suppose it was important, but Bea felt driven to pursue the matter. Leaving Maggie and Oliver to squabble over the last piece of toast, she rummaged around in her bag to find Miss Drobny's telephone number. With any luck the woman hadn't left for work yet.

‘Mrs Abbot here. I was hoping to catch you before you went off to work. Can you spare a moment? I've been wondering how you've been getting on. Is your new flatmate working out all right?'

‘We manage. She will only stay for a while, I think. For the present, it's OK.'

‘I understand. Have the police been?'

‘Yes. It is a shock to hear Tomi is dead, though I think she must be. I was afraid I would be sick when I see her body, but it was not hard. Poor girl! So sad. The police look through her things, take all the paperwork and say her people can have the rest. My new flatmate is not happy to have all Tomi's things still here. Also Tomi's parents telephoned me when they heard from the police. They want everything kept for them.'

‘So what will you do?'

‘I am putting all her things in storage and keeping the bill for the parents. They come to London soon, and then it will be finished, I hope.'

‘Yes, of course. Now I remember your saying that Tomi's parents were not committed Christians. Do you think they will want her bible, because a friend of hers would really appreciate it? I seem to remember having left it somewhere in your sitting room, where it must be frightfully in the way.'

‘I found it when you had gone. Do you want it still?'

‘I would love to have it. Do you think I might collect it some time?'

‘When do you come? I am off to work in a second, but I can leave it outside the front door if you like.'

‘That would be very kind of you. I'll be over in half an hour.'

She clicked off her phone, only to discover Oliver was giving her an old-fashioned look.

She said, ‘Sentimental of me, I know, but I didn't like to think of her bible thrown out in the rubbish. What did you say you were going to do today?'

‘If it wasn't rape – and it wasn't; if it wasn't robbery – and clearly it wasn't a straightforward robbery – then why on earth was she killed? I can't get my head round it.'

‘Neither can I. We're missing something. I'm going to collect her bible now. What will you do?'

‘Look at what was on her computer.'

‘All old stuff.'

‘Did you connect it to the mains, see what new emails might have come in recently?'

Had she done that? She couldn't remember. ‘Best of luck, Oliver.'

‘Well, before I touch it, I'm going to finish correlating the information Maggie and Zander have collected and give the police the names of the people we believe may have been pushing drugs. That's one positive thing we can do.'

‘It's a mess, isn't it?' Bea put on her big boots, collected keys, handbag and warmest coat, and left to collect Tomi's bible.

The house in which Tomi had lived was quiet and dark today. Presumably all the tenants had gone out to work by now. The steps down to Miss Drobny's flat were dripping with melted ice, but Bea managed them without taking a tumble. A used envelope containing Tomi's bible had been propped against the front door. Good.

Bea hefted the envelope in her hand. If she returned home, she'd find the agency rooms buzzing with queries and she'd be drawn into dealing with them as soon as she opened the door.

Also, there might be another call for help from Max; she dreaded hearing his voice nowadays. Don't think about poor little Pippin! She wrenched her thoughts away and took a deep breath. She couldn't help Pippin at the moment, and she needed to inspect the bible in peace and quiet.

She drove some way back towards home, found a parking space, and took her prize into a pleasant corner café. The windows had steamed up, but the Gaggia machine was working, the tables were clean and the place was almost empty.

She ordered a skinny latte and drew the bible out of the envelope. It seemed Tomi had bought it for herself, for there was nothing except her name on the title page. She'd had a firm signature and used black ink. Not a fountain pen, but a good ballpoint.

As Bea had noted earlier, the bible had been well used. A few pages had become dog eared, but Tomi had smoothed out the creases and there were no torn corners or other defacements.

There were half a dozen slips of paper marking various places in the bible, mostly in the Psalms or the New Testament. There were a couple of museum or art gallery postcards; one was of Dali's Crucifixion, in which Christ looks down on the world below. Another was of a Florentine angel. Both were cards which had been sent through the post to Tomi; holiday cards from friends at work? Bea skimmed through the messages on the back. Yes, that's what they were. Presumably the police would have contacted Tomi's workplace by now?

There were bible references scrawled upon a couple of slips of paper. Had the girl been asked to read the lesson in church sometime? It looked like it. There was just one piece of A4, folded over to fit inside the maps at the back. Something printed off a computer:

‘I hereby promise to pay Leo one pound (£1) per week for six months. I promise to abide by the rules we agreed. I understand that I forfeit my share if I fail in any respect.'

Underneath were the words: ‘Signed: Libra' and a space, followed by the words ‘Witnessed' and ‘Dated'. Neither the date nor the signatures had been filled in.

Presumably this was Tomi's copy of some sort of agreement with a person called Leo. Bea turned the paper over. There, in writing which matched Tomi's on the title page of the bible, was the name ‘Leo' followed by a telephone number.

Was this, perhaps, some form of blackmail? No, surely not. Not for a pound a week. It wouldn't be worth it.

Perhaps a syndicate of some sort had been formed at work? Everyone put in a pound a week and some lucky person – chosen by lot each week – scooped the jackpot. If fifty people played, then someone got fifty pounds. Perhaps Tomi had joined a syndicate to play the football pools? Or the National Lottery? No, that wouldn't be like Tomi.

Ah, Bea had a better idea. This would be some kind of charity for which Leo was collecting. Save the Planet, Go Green, rescue abandoned pets, that sort of thing. Highly commendable. Except that the terms of the agreement didn't quite fit. Why the time limit?

Well, perhaps the charity wanted to raise a specific sum for something: to supply fresh water to an African village, or to purchase a heart monitor. Yes, that might be it. One pound a week seemed about the right sum. But what was that about Tomi forfeiting her share if she broke the terms of the agreement? Her share of what?

Bea read it again. ‘Leo' was a man's name. Fine. Bea didn't know anyone called Leo, but presumably Tomi did and the name would crop up somewhere on Maggie's lists or in Tomi's diary. The small purse diary, which was missing, or the big one back at the flat?

Bea took a short cut and dialled the phone number on the back of the agreement. The phone was switched off: ‘Please leave a message.'

‘This is Mrs Abbot here. My son was a friend of Tomi's. I understand you have some sort of agreement with her. I'm not sure whether you are aware of it, but tragically she died a while back. The police will have the details, or you can ring me on . . .' And here Bea dithered whether to give her home or mobile number. The battery on her mobile was running low, so finally she gave the Abbot Agency office number.

That done, she returned to her scrutiny of the document. It was supposed to have been signed by someone called ‘Libra'. Not by Tomi.

Ah. Libra and Leo were two of the signs of the zodiac, weren't they? So it was possible that they were nom de plumes, and that Leo's real name was something quite different, such as Ponsonby Smythe. He was probably male and, if you fitted the name to the personality behind the zodiacal name, Bea thought he might well be the leader or instigator of whatever arrangement it was they'd made. Leos were usually leaders, weren't they?

On the other hand, Librans were supposed to be level-headed, all-for-justice type of people. Could Tomi be described like that? Mm. Possibly. Perhaps it was her birth sign? Chris might know.

Bea sighed. Since the paper was not signed in any way, the ‘Libra' referred to might not be Tomi at all, but someone completely different. Ah, but if so, why had Tomi stowed the paper in her bible? Putting it there must mean it was important.

It was a puzzle. Why the talk of ‘rules', for instance? What rules? The whole thing smacked of mumbo-jumbo and secret societies, which wasn't like Tomi at all.

Bea read the form again. She held the paper up to the light. Reasonable quality paper, such as was used in millions of printers attached to computers. Watermark? No. Evenly printed in black, no colour. Font size twelve, Times New Roman, which was the most common. The printer was in good condition.

Bea put the paper back in the bible, popped the book back inside its envelope, finished her coffee and returned home.

NINE

B
ea put in a couple of hours' work down in the agency rooms before making some leek and potato soup plus ham sandwiches for lunch. Oliver had cleared his desk in the office which Maggie had been using – well, the one she'd been using in theory – and was totally immersed in computer-geek mode. Bea took him a mug of soup and a pile of sandwiches, which he reached out for without taking his eyes off the screen.

There was no sign of Chris, which was something of a surprise. No sign of Maggie, either; but to be fair, Maggie had said she really must find that wretched plumber and screw his head off that day or the new en suite would never be finished in time. Bea's money was on Maggie, who might run a mile from a man who had sex on his mind, but brought her projects in on time and within budget. It was a good sign that she'd allowed Zander to help her look for Tomi's killer.

Which reminded Bea of the paper she'd found in Tomi's bible. She pulled it out and found a clear folder to put it into. Perhaps there might be fingerprints on it which would help the police? Her own included, of course. She reread the paper and still couldn't make sense of it. While she was making some photocopies of it she heard her front doorbell peal. Oliver wouldn't go upstairs to answer the door when he was working; he never did.