Daughter of Riches (71 page)

Juliet pulled on her towelling robe and ran down the stairs, trying to force her brain to do a mental time zone calculation. Early evening here – it must be the middle of the night in Australia!

‘Hello?'

‘Juliet – it's me, Sean.'

‘Sean!' He might have belonged to another world. ‘ What time is it there?'

‘Late – but I couldn't sleep. I wanted to talk to you. Your mother said you are coming home next week.'

She froze. Home. To her mother and father who had kept it hidden from her for the whole of her life that her father was a murderer. Only a few hours ago Australia had seemed like a haven where she could escape from the underhand way Dan had treated her, recharge her batteries with people who loved her. Now, suddenly, she was not at all sure she wanted to go.

‘Juliet – are you there? I miss you like hell, you know. Your mother said they were going to meet you at the airport but I told her I'd do it. Do you know your flight times yet?'

‘No.' Claustrophobia, closing in. Dan deceiving her here. Her parents deceiving her in Australia. Sean trying to tie her down. Her grandmother sick. Aunt Catherine pretending to be her friend and lying to her. ‘Sean, I've changed my mind. I might not come home. At least, I might make a detour via the USA.'

‘The USA?' He sounded shocked.

‘Yes. I think I need some time on my own.'

‘But what about your job?'

‘Oh. ‘I can't be bothered about that. It's the least of my worries. I'm sorry, Sean, but I'm all mixed up and I really don't know what to do.'

‘Do your mother and father know about this change of plan?'

God, she thought, he sounds really staid and middle-aged. His long hair is really only a camouflage. Underneath it he is so conventional it's ridiculous. But the thought of speaking to her mother and father made her feel nauseous.

‘They don't know. Could you tell them please? I don't want to speak to them at the moment. Please – look – I can't explain. I just don't want to speak to them, right?' She knew her voice was rising and did not care.

‘Is something wrong, Ju?'

She laughed, a brittle sound that was almost a sob. Was something wrong? Just ever so slightly. My world has turned upside down, that's all. Nothing much really.

‘No,' she heard herself say. ‘Nothing is wrong. I just want some time to myself, that's all. I have to sort myself out. At the moment I'm not very sure of anything. Look, I have to go. Thanks for ringing. And …' she hesitated, wondering how to word it, to make him realise that it was over. ‘Don't feel you have to wait for me.'

‘Juliet!'

But she had put the phone down.

You wouldn't want me anyway, Sean, if you knew the truth, she thought. You were a bit worried when I told you my grandmother was responsible for killing my Uncle Louis. Wait until you hear the truth!

She turned, saw, as if through a scarlet haze, Deborah at the foot of the stairs.

‘Excuse me, will you?'

‘I couldn't help overhearing,' Deborah said. ‘You sound upset, Juliet.'

‘You could say that.'

‘Would you like to talk about it?'

‘No. No, thank you very much.'

She pushed past Deborah and ran up the stairs.

It was a little after eight when Dan drove into the pub car park. He scanned the other vehicles that were parked there, looking for Phil Gould's Citroen. He could not see it but that did not necessarily mean Phil Gould was not there. He could have got a lift with someone else or he might be using one of the unmarked CID vehicles. They would all have been changed since he was in the force, Dan knew, and he would not recognise any of them.

He pushed open the door, made his way across the crowded bar and got himself a Scotch, looking around all the time. There were several faces he recognised and nodded to but not the one he wanted. Damn. This would have been a good deal easier than ringing Phil Gould again and asking for another meeting. His old inspector was bound to want to know why he was still digging around in the ashes of the Langlois case if he did, and Dan was not at all sure he knew how he would have answered him. His motives were so confused now. All he knew was that he was still hoping he might unearth something that would change the final scenario of the case and prove that Sophia – and Catherine – had been wrong to believe Robin guilty of Louis's murder.

Dan ran a hand through his hair once again running through all the arguments that had been going round and round in his head since Catherine's shocking revelation to him on the telephone and still failing to come up with any plausible alternative. Sophia would never have confessed and served time for the shooting unless she had been certain of her facts. She would never had put herself on the line if she had not been convinced her sacrifice was necessary. Her determination to protect Robin was the reason she had forbidden her attorney to put up any real defence, the reason she had blocked any investigation into the killing. There was no doubt about it, it all hung together very well – too damned well! And yet … and yet …

There was more to it than that. Dan was certain of it without knowing why. Was it just wishful thinking, because he wanted them to be wrong for Juliet's sake? Or was it that sixth sense that had made him a good policeman nagging away at him? He did not know.

The one lead he had was that parting remark of Raife to Juliet that ‘someone was not quite what they seemed'. Dan had been hoping Phil Gould might be able to shed some light on what he could have meant by that. But Phil Gould was not here. Damnation, it really was not his day. Well he'd wait just a little longer, have one more drink.

Dan was just about to give it up as a bad job and leave when he saw Phil Gould come in. He gave him time to get his drink, then made his way across.

‘Evening, Mr … Phil.'

Phil Gould was taking a long swig of his pint; as he lowered the glass he sighed deeply.

‘Man, I needed that! Evening, Dan. Do you by any chance remember how good a pint tastes after a four-hour question and answer session?'

‘I do. And after pushing a pen in that smoke-filled den of iniquity otherwise known as the CID office, and plenty of other times as well.'

‘You sound quite nostalgic'

‘Yes, I suppose I feel that way sometimes. Other times I remember how the bastards treated me.'

‘They had no choice, Dan.'

‘You didn't say that at the time.'

‘At the time my blood was up on your behalf. Perhaps I'm older and wiser now. How is your leg these days, by the way?'

‘OK. It doesn't really give me any trouble any more.'

‘But you haven't thought about rejoining the force?'

‘After being virtually told I was on the scrap-heap at age twenty-seven? Not likely.'

‘Pity. I still think you're a copper through and through. You're never happier than when you're chasing up the leads in some case or other.'

Dan shifted uncomfortably. As a chance remark that really was a little too close to home for his own peace of mind. But at least it gave him a lead in to what he wanted to ask.

‘Funny you should say that, Phil,' he said conversationally. ‘You remember I was telling you about Juliet Langlois, Sophia's granddaughter?'

‘The lovely girl who was going to make an honest man of you again. Yes. Has she done it yet, by the way?'

‘No, and she's not likely to. I think I blew any chances I might have had in that direction.' His tone was determinedly light, hiding the sick ache inside, still surprised that the thought of not seeing her again could hurt him. He had never expected another woman to get to him in this way.

‘You must be losing your touch, lad,' Phil Gould said heartily. ‘A member of the fair sex turning down Dan Deffains … I find that hard to believe.' He chortled into his beer.

‘Believe what you like. It's true,' Dan said shortly. ‘But I don't want to talk about my personal life, Mr Gould … Phil.'

‘Wise man.'

‘But I do want to talk about Juliet. She went to see Raife Pearson.'

Phil Gould spluttered foam into his moustache. ‘ Christ, Dan, you didn't tell her I …'

‘Of course not. She dug up the connection for herself and went to see him,' he lied. ‘I don't think she got very far. But Raife said something pretty funny to her. He told her not to take everyone at face value, that there was someone who wasn't quite what they seemed to be. You don't know who or what he could have been talking about, do you?'

‘Hell, no. Someone who wasn't what they seemed? That's pretty melodramatic stuff. No, I haven't a clue.'

‘Oh well, never mind. I don't suppose it's important.'

They chatted for a while and Dan bought Phil another pint. He owed it to him, he thought. Conscience money.

‘I think I'm for an early night tonight,' he said eventually. ‘I'll leave you lot propping up the bar as usual.'

Phil laughed, wiping his moustache with the back of his hand.

‘We earn it, laddie. Work hard and play hard, that's my motto. And if you ask me you should be doing the same.'

‘What is that supposed to mean?'

‘Re-apply for the job, Dan. Whatever it is you're doing now, you're wasted in it. You are a policeman through and through and you always will be. Come on now, it's a good life – admit it.'

‘I thought you couldn't wait to retire, Phil!'

The older man laughed.

‘Oh, I say that, yes, but as it comes nearer I don't mind admitting I'm dreading it. I wake up in the night in a cold sweat sometimes – and not only because I can imagine all the bloody embarrassing things the chief will say at my retirement do. No, take it from me, I shall miss the job. And if I could see my time over again I wouldn't look twice at any other career. With all the drawbacks, I still wouldn't do anything else – and I think you're a damned fool to be so stubborn. OK – you don't think they treated you as they should have and you may have a point. But you were so upset at losing Marianne I don't think you saw things straight. Can't say I blame you – if anything happened to Di I expect I'd be the same. But there's no point going on bearing grudges. You're just cutting off your nose to spite your; face.'

Dan nodded, unexpectedly moved, and pressed his old inspector's arm.

‘You might have something there, Phil. Perhaps I will think about it.'

‘Do, Dan, do. Before it's too late.'

Dan walked out into the warm windy night. Could be Phil Gould was right, he thought. At least when he had been a policeman he hadn't felt a heel like he did now. He might have upset a few of the less law abiding members of the population, but at least he had been honest and up-front about what he did. And without a doubt he had missed it, missed the challenge and the companionship and the sense of anticipation that came from never knowing at the outset what a day would bring. He had been so angry – so damned angry – about what had happened to him and Marianne he had let it colour all his thinking, and perhaps he had been a little unreasonable in turning so bitterly against his former employers – yes, if he was honest, he almost certainly had been.

Now Dan felt drawn suddenly to the life he had left behind. When all this was over he would give some serious thought to seeing if the force would have him back, he decided. But for the moment he still wanted to follow his nose and see if there were still a few unsuspected twists and turns in the Langlois case.

Dan unlocked his car and got in, sitting for a moment deep in thought. There was nothing much he could do now until Raife got back but when he did Dan intended seeing him and asking him point blank what he had meant by his allusion to ‘ someone not being quite what they seemed'.

Would Raife tell him? He really did not see why not. This was one occasion when
not
being a policeman might prove useful. And if his intuition was not playing him false he believed the answer might prove very important, a clue that should never have been overlooked. Dan was determined to follow it up and find out exactly where it led.

After dinner was over Juliet pleaded a headache and went up to her room early. She was almost ready for bed, still in a daze of shock and misery, when there was a tap at the door and Deborah looked in.

‘Would you like me to get you some aspirin or something?'

‘No, it's all right …' Juliet began, then changed her mind. ‘Well, perhaps an aspirin might be a good idea. I do have a stinking headache.'

‘I can see that.' She disappeared and was back in a few minutes with a bottle of tablets and a glass of water. ‘Take these. I'd have three if I was you. I know you're only supposed to have two but you really do look dreadfully grotty.'

Juliet swallowed the tablets. One stuck in her throat, effervescing acidity in her mouth. She coughed at it and drank some more water. Heavens, the food at dinner had stuck in her throat, but she'd have thought she could get down a silly little aspirin!

‘Sometimes you must feel as if you spend your whole life ministering to the sick,' she said apologetically to Deborah. ‘First Grandma, then me!'

‘Oh, I don't mind. I quite like being useful. But I'd never have made a nurse – not a real one. It upsets me to see people feeling ill or unhappy and I don't think I could bear it if my patients didn't get well.' She laughed lightly. ‘That's the sort of person I am, I suppose. I only want to see the nice pleasant side of life. I close my eyes to the ugly and the sad or anything that makes me uncomfortable and pretend it doesn't exist.'

Juliet said nothing. The last thing she wanted just now was a conversation on psychology as it applied to Deborah. As for shutting things out and pretending they did not exist, she only wished she could!

‘Juliet, what is wrong?' Deborah asked gently.