False Money (31 page)

Whenever Bea thought about Tomi, she felt anger surge through her. To let her death go unavenged was all wrong. Apart from that, the killer had got away with murder three times, so what was to stop him or her at three?

She considered that it might be a good idea to take a precaution or two. She made some phone calls and started to clear the kitchen, only to be interrupted by her landline ringing.

This time it was Chris, with instructions for her and for Oliver. ‘There's some kind of confrontation planned for the party. Hermia plans to announce that she's going to the police, in order to see what happens. That's really why she wants me to film the event, to capture people's reactions. I'm afraid this might put her in danger, but she says nothing could possibly happen to her in the group. Can you dress all in black, Mrs A, and keep to the shadows? Watch out that no one tries to slip her a lethal dose of something?'

‘Will do.'

‘The thing is, I'm not sure Hermia's got the killer instinct, so she may need some help. Oliver says you know one or two things they don't. Perhaps you could put a couple of tough questions if she fails to get through?'

‘I suppose so.'

‘And, well, I may try to rig up something to record . . . I'll have to give it some thought.'

He rang off. Bea put the phone down and wondered exactly who was pulling the strings tonight. Was it Chris? Unlikely.

One name pushed itself forward. Gregor. The more she thought about it, the more Bea suspected that he was the master puppeteer behind the group. Hermia might well have suggested that she tell the group about going to the police and that Chris make a video of the event, but only Gregor could have persuaded everyone to cooperate. Tricky, slicky Dicky. Untrustworthy with money, but the linchpin of the group. Remember he'd said they all took their troubles to him? She'd bet he knew the precise degrees of debt which each person owed. He must know – or suspect – who was responsible for the killings. Would he really be keen to bring the police in on the matter? Y–yes, provided he could keep in the background himself. Let someone else play the Grand Inquisitor; hence the invitation to Bea.

Yet, as Bea went off to the beauty salon, she realized that she felt comfortable about leaving the conduct of the evening in Gregor's hands. Tricky he might be, but she had a feeling that under all that persiflage, he cared about right and wrong. She put in some praying to cover all the bases.

Bea surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. Hair, make-up, nails; all in order. She'd had a shower and had even had time to check on something that had been niggling at her on the laptop containing Tomi's files. She twisted sideways to make sure her long black silk tube of a dress clung where it should and hung straight where it shouldn't. She usually wore a padded gold lame jacket lined in black over it, but had turned it inside out so that only the piping shimmered in the light.

She saluted herself in the mirror. ‘Here comes the judge.'

She made one more phone call, checked that her small black evening bag held everything she needed, and left for the party.

As the clock on Duncan's mantelpiece struck eight, Bea retired to a dark corner while Oliver, also dressed in black, prepared to play the part of butler.

Bea was interested to see that Chris, who also dressed in black and with a hood over his bright hair, lost all his boyishness when behind the camera. Most of the side lamps in the room had been turned off, while two powerful lamps had been rigged up to cast light over a brocaded settee, placed centre stage, so to speak. A boom hanging over the settee from a tripod held one microphone, while Oliver had concealed another under a small table nearby.

As Oliver ushered in the first guests, Duncan put down his glass of whisky and moved forward to greet them. Duncan was wearing full evening rig, as was Gregor, who had a raven-haired beauty on his arm. Bea thought the girl must be a model, so tall and thin was she. She was wearing a wisp of a dress that left her arms bare and showed off some extravagant jewellery, with a multicoloured glittering evening bag slung on a chain from one shoulder. Her IQ was probably not as high as her heels.

Miaow. Bea told herself not to judge the book by its cover.

Gregor shielded his eyes for a moment against the powerful lights, and then dismissed them from his mind. He was always on stage, anyway.

‘Congratulations all round!' Gregor hugged Duncan, who hugged him back, though with slightly less exuberance. Gregor introduced his companion by the name of Marigold.

The girl said, ‘Pleased to meetya.'

Perhaps, thought Bea, these were the only words the girl might utter the whole evening. Was she really chewing gum? Unbelievable!

Another ring at the door. Gregor accepted drinks from Duncan and turned to greet Claudine, who was looking as cool and soignée as if sleepless nights had never existed. Her fall of straight dark hair was held back by a high Spanish-style comb; she carried a tiny gold evening bag to match her high heeled shoes. She was swathed in folds of dark green taffeta, which clung to her excellent figure and allowed her to look down her nose at Marigold's conspicuous lack of boobs. The women checked out each other's long, elegant legs and decided, without words, that honours were even.

Then in bustled Hermia, laughing and crying, kissing everyone in sight on both cheeks and giving Gregor a third for luck. She was wearing a glittering silver sheath dress which left her beautiful shoulders bare and showed off a prettily curved figure. Her dress screamed ‘Paris', as did her silver clutch purse. She might lack Marigold's slenderness and Claudine's sophistication, but her warmth made her the focus of the room. She blew a kiss at Chris with a mischievous expression, but he refused to take his eye off the camera to socialize, even for her.

Close on Hermia's heels came a long pale streak of a girl, who looked as if she were not quite sure she wanted to take part in a rave-up, but Mummy had always told her to smile and tuck her tummy in when wearing a new dress, and so she did. Pale blue wasn't a good colour for her, and she probably looked at her best in riding kit. Landed gentry? This must be Mandy. Yes, she walked past everyone, smiling and nodding, but not kissing, to end up beside Duncan, who was dispensing drinks. A lively babble of voices showed the party was off to a good start.

Last came Jamie with the prettiest of little blondes on his arm.

The temperature in the room dropped five degrees and the room went quiet.

Jamie was also in evening dress. Claire was in white satin, trimmed with fluffy feathers, and carrying a huge designer handbag. Was the dress home-made? Was the length wrong? Something about her outfit wasn't quite right. All the women in the party knew it immediately.

After a moment's hesitation Hermia put the smile back on her face and went to kiss Jamie; just once, on one cheek. She held out both her hands to Claire and said, ‘Lovely to see you again, Claire.'

Jamie had his arm around Claire. ‘Congratulations are in order for more than the money. Show them, Claire!'

Claire held up her left hand, on which flashed a diamond ring.

Jamie was pleased with himself and Claire. ‘We bought the ring this morning.'

Hermia's smile looked rigid. ‘Why, Jamie! How wonderful! When's the wedding to be?'

The others crowded around making the right noises, but not much kissing went on. Bea, watching from the back of the room, saw Gregor exchange a wide-eyed look of dismay with Hermia. It seemed that neither liked this engagement much.

‘Come and sit down.' Duncan ushered the happy pair to the settee.

‘A drink first,' said Jamie, high on excitement.

Claire was smiling, too. Sleek and satisfied. Like a cat. Look what I've caught!

‘A toast, a toast!' cried Gregor. ‘Come, let's all gather round the settee so that we can register the moment on film. Claudine, are you with us? Jamie and Claire should sit in the front; no, I insist. I'll stand here with my arms round the two best looking girls; Hermia, Claudine – and Marigold, where have you got to, girl?'

Marigold obediently went to his side. Yes, she was definitely chewing gum.

From nowhere Oliver appeared with a small camera. Kneeling before them, he snapped away. Flash, Flash! He hadn't got in Chris's way at all, but the flashing of his camera distracted everyone nicely. Soon perhaps they'd forget all about Chris, which would help them to relax and perhaps speak more openly.

Gregor raised his glass. ‘Everyone got a drink? Then here's to us and to Lady Luck! Don't spend it all at once!'

Oliver moved closer. ‘Say “champagne” everyone!”'

They all chorused, ‘Champagne!' and laughed loudly. Yet there was a new constraint in the room.

Bea thought, They all know. Every single one of them knows; or suspects, more likely. Except, perhaps, the fond husband-to-be?

Gregor was Master of Ceremonies, of course. ‘Now, my darlings, for posterity. Let's take it in turns to say what this moment means to you.'

Jamie stood, saying he wasn't going in front of the camera till he'd drunk a good deal more than he'd taken on board yet.

‘Duncan! Duncan!' Hermia started the chant.

Duncan grabbed Mandy and took her to the settee. Mandy blushed and looked embarrassed. She was drinking tonic water, not champagne. She looked around at the group, trying to smile, aware she was the newcomer and perhaps feeling confused and somewhat out of her depth. Ignorant of the reason for the celebration?

Oliver said, ‘Look at Duncan, please!'

Like the well-brought up little girl that she was, Mandy looked at Duncan, and as she did so, her expression eased. Bea thought, She loves Duncan. Good.

There was a sheen of sweat on Duncan's forehead. He took Mandy's hand in his. ‘Mandy, you know I've been working up to a proposal for weeks.'

She glanced around at the others, her colour coming and going. ‘Yes, but Duncan; in front of everyone?'

‘You did say you didn't care about my being made redundant?'

She had a reassuring smile. ‘You'll find something else. You always said you'd like to try starting up an Internet company. We can sell this flat, which would give us enough capital to move out of London, and I can commute to my job. We'll manage. Did you need to have all your friends around you before you got up enough courage to ask me to marry you?'

He'd forgotten the camera, and his friends. ‘I wanted you to be sure of what you were doing. So yes, I am asking you to marry me.'

‘The answer is ‘yes', of course.' She leaned towards him, expecting a kiss, but he took both her hands in his, and raised them, holding her off. Meanwhile his friends began to thump on the floor and shout, ‘Yes!' and, ‘Go for it!'

Duncan looked around. ‘Please; let me finish. Mandy, would you still marry me if I came into a great deal of money?'

She was puzzled, not sure whether to smile or not. ‘That would be very nice, but it's not necessary.'

‘The thing is, we played the lottery —'

She drew back a little, frowning. ‘Oh, no! Not you! You know my brother—'

‘It wasn't like that. I don't gamble. I never would. It was a joke, to cheer Harry up. We won rather a lot. Enough to give us a country house and enable us to start a family, if you like.'

Her colour rose. She withdrew her hands from his and stood up. ‘You mean, all that about us having to be poor . . . You were testing me, to see what I'd say?' Angry tears stood out on her cheeks, and she rushed out of the circle of light.

‘I'm an idiot.' He went after her. ‘Forgive me. I do love you, but I couldn't see how to break the news to you without—'

He tried to put his arms around her. She resisted. The sound of a slap startled everyone. Heads jerked round to where Mandy stood, hand still raised in the air. Duncan looked shocked. Had she really clobbered him? Wow!

Gregor was equal to the occasion. ‘Kiss her, you fool!'

Everyone else began to stamp on the floor. ‘Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!'

Duncan kissed her. She squirmed a bit and then gave in. But it wasn't till after she'd put her arms around his neck that everyone relaxed. Bea noticed that Chris had not moved, but was still filming the group around the settee. Following Gregor's orders?

‘Ahh,' said Gregor.

‘That brought tears to my eyes,' said Hermia.

‘Excuse us for a moment,' said Duncan, pulling Mandy after him out of the room. The girl was half smiling and half crying, but not unwilling to go with him.

‘Splendid!' said Gregor, holding out his empty glass. ‘Will someone kindly refill . . . ? Ah, thank you, Claudine. Everyone, here's to us!'

Cheers all round. Big smiles. Gregor spread himself on the settee, arms stretched out, smiling up at the camera. ‘So now it's my turn in the confessional. Well, folks! You probably guessed I was in big trouble with the tax man. I argued one way, he argued another, and when it came to court, the judgement went against me – with costs! But that's life, isn't it? I had budgeted for losing, but I must admit that I hadn't set aside enough to satisfy the vultures completely, and the prospect of spending some time in prison has been haunting my dreams. So here's to the smile on the face of the tiger, and solvency plus. And there's more.'

Here he took a gulp of champagne. ‘Some of you may have doubted that I'd surmount all my troubles and come out on top, so I'm here to confirm that I haven't lost my Midas touch. Far from it. It's business as usual for yours truly. Moreover, one of my other business concerns has come up trumps, and very soon now I'll be looking round for a nifty little yacht to buy. This time next year we'll hold an anniversary party on it, somewhere in the Mediterranean.'