False Money (32 page)

Catcalls, cheers and whistles. Flash!

Bea noticed that Duncan had come back into the room, his arm around Mandy – who wasn't resisting his attentions any more.

Gregor stood to take a bow. More catcalls and whistles. More laughter. Gregor led Claudine to the settee and settled her there. Claudine was flushed with champagne and triumph. She looked fantastic. Flash! went Oliver's little camera, and Claudine didn't even wince.

Claudine's glass was refilled, and she raised it to her friends. ‘Yes, I'm deliriously happy, but I'm also thinking of those who aren't here tonight and should have been.' Tears began to slide out of her eyes. ‘Six months ago, ten of us met here to celebrate a birthday, and then we lost two of our oldest friends in quick succession.'

Gregor raised his glass. ‘To Julian and Shirley. Our reckless, wonderful, never-to-be-forgotten friends. Let's drink to them.'

Claudine used her forefinger to wipe tears from her cheeks. ‘And then Tomi. I really liked Tomi. She had such style! And she brought so much common sense to our group. Common sense is so rare, don't you think?'

Claudine was misty-eyed and beginning to lose precision of speech.

Gregor nodded. ‘Here's to Tomi. A tragedy.'

Claudine swept her arm around. ‘As for Harry, if he killed her, let him drown in hell. And stupid Nick, falling down the stairs. What a waste! I've known them for ever, and yet I don't miss either of them that much. Isn't that awful?'

Gregor had the bottle ready to refill her glass. ‘But for you, the future's bright.'

‘Yes, it is. No men. Men aren't worth it. I don't care who hears me say that. Give me the money, and I'll run a school you'll all be proud to send your children to. I'm all right, Jack; and I'm glad Alan's gone.'

Flash! went Oliver's camera.

‘Sure you're glad,' said Gregor, helping her to stand and stagger over to an armchair. He removed the empty glass from her hand and settled a cushion at her back. ‘Now it's Hermia's turn.'

Hermia was sober enough. She seated herself, smiling, sipping at her glass, which was still nearly full. Duncan stopped kissing Mandy long enough to go round replenishing the glasses of the rest of his guests, and then returned to Mandy's side. Marigold – where was she? – hovered on the outskirts of the group, looking glamorous and clueless.

Hermia raised her glass to her friends – and not to the camera. ‘I joined in our lottery bid because everyone else did, and not because winning anything would mean much to me. I've always had a cushion of money to guard me from reality. Now I'm asking myself what I'd have been like if I'd had to struggle to earn my own living.

‘When one of my friends needed a large sum of money I took out a loan for him, putting up my family shares as collateral. I knew it was risky, because a voice at the back of my head told me he might not be able to repay and, sure enough, if it hadn't been for the lottery win he wouldn't have been able to do so, and I'd have had to find out what it's like to work for a living.

‘Only, after Tomi died, and then Harry, I began to worry. Weren't their deaths a little too timely? Might one of us really be trying to improve the odds? If so, if we really had a murderer in our midst, then what should I do about it? Go to the police, obviously. But if I did that, I'd lose my share of the lottery money. And, if the police weren't interested in Tomi and Harry's deaths, then there was no need for me to worry, was there? So I sat on my conscience.

‘Then came Nick's death. The rewards for keeping quiet multiplied, but so did the fear. I talked to each one of you in turn and saw the same question and the same fear in everyone's eyes. If we talked to the police, we'd lose the lot, and we all had rather a lot to lose. I agreed to keep silent, to wait till after the pay-out, and I have done so. But tomorrow I go to the police. I have no proof of my suspicions. I don't know whether they'll believe me or not, but that's what I have to do.'

NINETEEN

C
laudine stretched herself out in her chair, eyes closed. ‘We've been over and over this, Hermia. If there were the slightest smidgeon of evidence, I'd agree to take it to the police, but as things stand, I can't see the point of doing so. Nothing would come of it, the plods would be all over us, it would get into the papers, and we wouldn't be able to lead a normal life for months. There'll be no more deaths. So, I vote to leave it be.'

‘Amen to that,' said Gregor. ‘I can't say I'd be willing to have them buzzing round me.'

Duncan had his arm firmly around Mandy. ‘I vote we leave things as they are, too. What do you say, Jamie?'

‘Oh, leave it be,' said Jamie, lazily. ‘We're all against you, Hermia. And if none of us back you up, what chance do you have of convincing the police to act?'

‘Maybe none, but that's what I'm going to do. In the meantime, Jamie; have you a cheque for me?'

‘Naturally. Of course.' He drained his glass, impeded by Claire, who had hooked herself on to his arm. ‘Where's my cheque book?' He patted his pockets.

Claire pouted. ‘You left it on the dressing table, my sweet.'

His eyes narrowed. ‘Did I? Oh, I suppose I must have done. Hermia, I'll let you have a cheque tomorrow, right?'

Hermia had lost her smile. ‘Jamie, I've known you since you were five years old. You've always brought your troubles to me, expecting me to rescue you, and I always have until now. I've known you “forget” your chequebook before, which is why I reminded you this afternoon that I wanted the money tonight.'

‘I didn't mean to forget. Honest. I really thought I'd put it in my pocket.'

Hermia shook her head. ‘Are you hoping I'll meet with a convenient accident, so you don't have to repay me?'

He flushed. ‘No, Hermia. You can't believe that!' He risked a glance down at Claire, still hooked on to his arm. ‘Did you take it out of my pocket, my love?'

She pouted. ‘I thought it spoiled the line of your jacket. So sorry. I didn't realize it was important.'

Gregor tugged on his ear. ‘Jamie, how about we borrow Duncan's laptop and you transfer the money to Hermia's account here and now? After all, this is the night when we finish with the old and start anew. And don't say you've forgotten your access codes, Jamie, because nobody will believe you.'

A titter of amusement.

Jamie laid on the charm. ‘I know I'm a bit of an idiot, but don't you think that's a trifle unkind? Of course I want to repay Hermia. She saved my life with that loan.'

Hermia said, ‘Jamie, of course I trust you. I'll help you by putting in my own bank details if you promise not to peep. As Gregor says, let's do it, and then we can all relax.'

Jamie gave in with a good grace. ‘I try never to mix business and pleasure, but it will be a pleasure to clear my name. No one gets to call me a skinflint, right?' He unhooked himself from Claire and went to the bureau, where Duncan was booting up his laptop. Claire followed, frowning. Had she really removed his chequebook, or not? Mm. Probably. On balance. Yes.

Hermia waited for Jamie to access his account and then took over, shielding the details from Claire, who was standing very close behind. Too close? Yes. Close enough to see Hermia's password. Hermia gave Claire a look, and she moved away.

Claudine was almost horizontal in her chair, having kicked off her high heeled shoes. Her speech was beginning to slur. ‘Good old Jamie. Running true to form as usual. The thing is, Jamie, that we all know you too well. I'm amazed that you've actually cut the umbilical cord to Hermia by getting engaged to Claire, but now you have, be warned; you're on your own now.' She waved her empty glass around. ‘Is there any champagne left?'

Click, click went the keys of the laptop.

Duncan popped open another bottle. ‘Who'd like a top-up?'

In a low voice, but clearly heard by everyone, Mandy asked, ‘Are we nearly done yet? I'm starving.'

Jamie closed the laptop. ‘Done. With interest.'

‘I didn't ask for interest,' said Hermia.

‘Nevertheless, I owe it to you; clean slate and all that. Phew! What a relief, eh? So where are we planning to eat?'

There was a general movement of personnel, a gathering up of handbags and girlfriends.

And that, thought Bea, was as far as the group were going to take it. Only Gregor had the killer instinct to take the matter any further, and he lacked some of the information that had drifted Bea's way over the past week or so.

Time for her to act. With an arrow prayer for God to guide her aright, she stood up and stepped forward into the circle of light around the settee.

Several people did a double take. ‘Who's . . . ? Oh.'

‘I didn't see her sitting in the corner. Why . . . ?'

‘To refresh your memories, I'm Bea Abbot, investigating the untimely death of your friend Tomi. I have found a witness who says that, about noon on the day of Tomi's death, she was last seen getting into Claire's white mini opposite the library in Kensington. Claire, where did you take Tomi after that?'

‘What?' Claire, sitting by herself on the settee, looked all around her, smiling, but also shocked. ‘Who says? It's a lie.'

Chris didn't move or speak. Just as well, as strictly speaking he couldn't identify Claire as the driver of the mini, nor could he be sure that Tomi had actually got into the car.

Claudine struggled to sit upright. ‘Come to think of it . . . Did I dream it, or did Tomi say she was going shopping that day? She wanted a new top for the party that evening, and she wanted to look around for another evening dress. I remember she said something . . . Now, what was it? Hermia; didn't you tell her about a boutique? Claire; was that where you took her?'

‘Don't be silly. It wasn't me. I wasn't anywhere near Kensington that day. Someone is mistaken if they say that I was.'

Jamie looked puzzled. Claire patted the settee at her side, but he ignored her.

Bea went on. ‘I'm sure the police will be able to find out if Tomi was ever in Claire's car. Fingerprints and so on. I'll ask you again, Claire. Did you or did you not give Tomi a lift that day?'

Claire pulled a face. Shrugged. ‘I suppose.'

‘You'd phoned her earlier, when she was in the pub, to arrange when and where to pick her up?'

Another shrug. ‘I may have done.'

‘I've been reading Tomi's emails. She was being invited to all sorts of places and was worried that she hadn't the wardrobe to fit. She didn't earn enough to buy designer clothes. She told a friend that she'd heard of a boutique for once-worn dresses. Which one of you told her about it?'

Hermia was frowning. ‘Well, I did, if it's the same one. It's in Cookham, not far out of town. I offered to take her, but I had something else on that weekend and couldn't make it.'

‘So she got into the car with Claire and was never seen alive again. Did you offer to take her out to Cookham, Claire? Let me remind you that she was found in a country lane in that direction.'

A shrug. ‘No, of course not. I knew of a little boutique behind Oxford Street and offered to drop her off there.'

‘Oxford Street on a Saturday morning? That was brave of you. Only buses and taxis are allowed.'

‘I went round the back streets, but I couldn't park there, of course, so I let her out at the corner of Wigmore Street and went on home. I don't know what she did after that.'

‘What was the name of the boutique?'

Another shrug. ‘I'm not sure. Plum or Purple or something? I've only used it once or twice.'

‘You could take us there, couldn't you?'

‘I suppose so.'

‘Good. The police will be interested to hear that, and no doubt they will want to interview the staff to see if they remember Tomi. She was a very striking looking girl, wasn't she? They'll be bound to remember her.'

Claire looked at her watch. ‘As someone said a while ago, where are we eating tonight?'

‘One moment. Claire; when did you meet Jamie?'

‘Oh, I don't remember. Months and months ago.' Wide eyed, she blew a kiss to her fiancé. ‘About a year ago, isn't it, sweetheart?'

‘Not quite.' He'd lost his smile and didn't return the kiss.

Duncan frowned. ‘Wait a minute. It was Nick who brought you along to one of our parties, can't remember which one. In the autumn? Can anyone else remember?'

Hermia picked that one up. ‘My birthday and Tomi's were very close. We had a joint celebration to which Nick brought Claire. It was in the last week of September. No, the first week in October.'

Bea said, ‘That would be after you'd all heard about your lottery win. You had a good party?'

‘Yes, but we were all a bit subdued. Shirley had got herself killed earlier that week. We all drank too much. The shock, you know. Nick passed out in the loo. Who took Claire home? Was it you, Duncan?'

Duncan shook his head. ‘No. Jamie and I put Nick in a taxi and gave the driver his address. Jamie wasn't feeling too good, but he offered to take Claire on home in another taxi.'

‘Phoo! Jamie was almost as drunk as Nick, crying into his whisky,' said Claudine from the depths of her chair. ‘First Julian, then Shirley. He couldn't make out whether he was more glad to have a bigger share of the cash, or more sorry to lose old friends.'

‘So Claire went home with Jamie,' said Bea, ‘and between his grief and the drink, he told her about the lottery money.'