False Diamond--An Abbot Agency Mystery (28 page)

Carrie produced a cream puff on a plate. ‘Leon asked us to save this for you.'

‘It looks delicious, but I couldn't eat it at the moment. Can you find a home for it? By the way, I don't like him barging in whenever he feels like it. In future, will you ask me before you let him in?'

Carrie was in a mood to be saucy. ‘Don't you like him?'

Bea smiled and shook her head. ‘Safe journey home, girls. See you tomorrow.'

Her phone trilled, and she rushed back to hear Oliver's voice.

‘Nothing. No divorce. I've tried every year from the one in which they were married, to today. As far as I can see, unless it's been annulled … I could try that.'

‘No. It makes a horrible kind of sense. They married young, perhaps stayed together, perhaps not. He got the job with H & B and saw how to climb the ladder by making up to Dilys. Perhaps he tried to get free of Ginevra, and she refused him a divorce? Then, oh dear, he got Dilys pregnant but couldn't confess to old man Holland that he was already married. And Ginevra was on his heels. He raised money to buy Dilys a huge diamond and paid Ginevra off by selling it again.'

She made a note. ‘I must check to see if that's when she started up her boutique. The timing's about right. So she did OK out of it, but he was still in debt for the original purchase. Dilys spotted that the diamond had been changed but he calmed her down with the story about paying off a previous girlfriend. He told her the affair was over, that the girl had died. But we know there was no such death in reality. Did Ginevra continue to blackmail him throughout his marriage to Dilys? I suspect so. Well, well. That puts a different complexion on the matter.'

‘I could come back at any time if you need me. Just give me a ring.'

‘I'm all right for the time being, but I'll keep in touch, right?'

She turned off the lights and went upstairs to the kitchen, taking care to lock the door from the agency at the bottom of the stairs as she went. There were lights on in the hall and kitchen, and music. TV and radio. So Maggie was at home.

Also, surprise! Zander was in the kitchen playing with Winston, while Maggie was deep in conversation with someone on the phone. Maggie was dressed in a peacock blue shaggy top over tight black trousers, and there was a matching band of blue around her dark hair. And purple on her eyelids. Maggie was feeling happy again.

‘Can I cook you something, Mrs A?' Zander looked slumberously content.

Bea knew the meaning of that look. Successful sex. Ah, but … She felt a little shocked. Had Zander … In spite of all his protestations? And Maggie had enjoyed it?

Whoops. No business of yours to interfere, Bea, or even to comment. Instead, think, Bravo, children! You've made up? Good!

‘Food?' She shook her head. ‘I was going to have a takeaway.'

Maggie said, ‘You never!' into the phone. She was smiling.

Zander put Winston down on the floor. ‘Maggie took a call for you on the landline just now. She said CJ – is that right? – was coming round to see you. She told him she thought that would be all right and that you wouldn't mind.'

Maggie was still on the phone, laughing at something she'd heard. ‘Really? What fun! Yes, of course you have to get ready for supper. I'll ring you again tomorrow, right?' She clicked off her phone. ‘Bernice has a new pair of wellies with pink stars on them, and tomorrow she's going to be taken to the Harry Potter experience, and next week she's starting at a new school. She sounds fine. I didn't like to ask if she knew about the deaths in the family, but she said straight off that her great auntie had told her about her daddy and her brothers, and they all agreed it was terribly sad, but that she was going to see her mummy soon, and that would cheer them all up. I think the Hollands are handling the situation rather well.'

Zander put his arm around Maggie, proudly grinning at Bea. ‘She's gone all broody, wants a child of her own soonest, and I'm more than happy to oblige.'

‘I
'm delighted,' said Bea. And she was … for two seconds. Then she realized that Zander marrying Maggie was going to mean the girl moving away, leaving Bea all alone in her big house. She kept her smile on, though. ‘I'm thrilled for you. Both of you.'

Maggie snuggled into Zander's shoulder. ‘My mother won't approve, of course—'

‘We'll manage,' said Zander. ‘I've been offered yet another promotion, and I've been saving like mad, hoping that one day Maggie would agree to marry me. And now she has. We want to do the deed as quickly as possible. It'll have to be in a registry office because of Maggie's first disastrous marriage, but we can have a blessing in my church afterwards.'

Maggie said, ‘We thought Oliver could be best man, and you're to be Matron of Honour, but—'

They looked at one another, and then at Bea. ‘Would it be possible, would you mind very much if we lived here in the top flat till we've found somewhere else? All that's needed is to change my single bed for a double. What do you think?'

So they weren't going to leave her all alone, after all. They sounded really worried that Bea wouldn't agree, but she was delighted. ‘Bless you, my children. I can't think of anything I'd like better. Please, don't be in any hurry to move.' Bea embraced them both. ‘I'm thrilled. Does Oliver know yet?'

‘Not yet.' They were flushed and laughing. ‘We wanted to ask you first.'

The doorbell rang. Smiling, Bea went to let CJ into the hall.

‘Are you all right, Bea?' He looked serious. Almost, worried.

‘Why shouldn't I be? Maggie and Zander have just got engaged and are going to stay on here in the top flat. Isn't that good?'

‘Excellent,' he said, in a tone laden with doom.

Bea twitched a frown at him. ‘Come and congratulate them.'

‘Does Oliver know?'

‘You think he'd object?'

‘No, of course not. He can always move into my son's old flat if he feels he's being squeezed out here.'

Trust CJ to put a damper on their high spirits. Bea was annoyed with him, though she conceded that he had a point. Oliver must not feel he was being pushed out of his home.

The happy pair accepted CJ's congratulations and went off to have a celebratory supper locally.

‘Well, CJ. Shall I cook something for us?' said Bea, thinking it was the last thing she wanted to do.

‘I have a table booked at that steak place up the road.'

Bea immediately felt she'd prefer to cook for him at home, but couldn't very well say so. She wondered what it was that made the men in her life always choose to take her to restaurants she'd just been to. All right, this particular restaurant wasn't bad, and it was nearby.

She fetched her coat, checked that the alarm was on and accepted CJ's arm to walk up the road to the restaurant.

Once they were settled and had placed their order, he gave a little cough. ‘I was concerned about you. Those attacks. And, you're looking, well, not quite yourself.'

Bea, who had been feeling fairly perky, winced, remembering her slapped face and her terror at being followed by the biker. She forced a smile. ‘I'm all right.'

‘Good. Not everyone has come out of this as well. Defenestration, I believe they call it.'

‘De-what? Out of the window? As in … Wasn't that the Czech way of disposing of inconvenient or redundant politicians? You mean someone's been thrown out of a window?'

‘Top floor, twenty-something storeys. Not much left.'

‘Pity the street cleaners!'

CJ did not care for levity. Bea reflected that Inspector Durrell would probably have tried to cap her comment. What might he have said? ‘Another little job for the undertaker?' Or possibly made a reference to raspberry jam. She stifled a sigh. The trouble with CJ was that you couldn't take the horror out of a situation by having a giggle with him about it. ‘I don't know anyone who's jumped out of a window lately, do I?'

‘The chief accountant for Holland Holdings.'

Now there was a blow to the solar plexus. What was the matter with her? She ought to have seen that coming. ‘Did she fall, or was she pushed?'

‘Yes, that is the question. I see you already know it was a woman. White wine or red? It should be red with steak, but if you're tired …?'

Bea ground her teeth. Yes, she was tired. But she actually needed a full-bodied red wine at that moment. ‘Red, please. I am happy to say I don't know anyone in that organization, apart from Leon and Benton. And Leon won't even admit to being in their employ.'

‘Ah.' He folded long-fingered hands one over the other and produced his Cheshire Cat smile.

She could have hit him. Not that that would have done any good. ‘I see you are big with news. Tell.'

‘You must understand that I have access to information through my contacts which—'

‘I understand. Nothing you say can be substantiated. It's all rumour. But true.'

‘I believe so. You read the papers, don't you? Perhaps not the
Financial Times
…'

‘Are you suggesting that I am unable to read more than two words a minute? Yes –' with sarcasm – ‘I read one of the tabloids every day over breakfast. And
The
Times
, too. Sometimes. When I have a minute to spare.'

He frowned. ‘You must be aware there's been considerable public reaction to the fact that certain companies have, quite legally, been avoiding payment of tax to the British exchequer by claiming their registered office is overseas.'

‘Big flapdoodle. It's not illegal, but it
is
immoral, right?'

‘Quite. A factory based in Birmingham, for instance, may have its registered office in the Cayman Islands …'

‘Ah.' She was adding up the column of figures faster than CJ could spit them out.

‘Which is so they can pay a lower rate of tax there than they would have to do here.'

Bea said, ‘Wait a minute. I understood the Holland mansion here was their head office.'

‘Yes, but not their registered office—'

‘Which is in the Cayman Islands. And there's a big scare on, which brought Sybil haring back from the States and drew in the younger brother willy nilly. Mm. Do you think their chief accountant has been caught diverting money from accounts in the Cayman Islands to … herself? Or to herself and partner?'

‘All conjecture.'

The waiter plonked their plates down in front of them. Her stomach was queasy, for she could now put a different interpretation on Leon's quest for information. ‘Was this chief accountant, perhaps, a susceptible woman, who might have been persuaded to depart from the straight and narrow by a much younger man?'

‘So they say. This wine is almost tolerable.'

‘Benton, of course. He had a habit of getting his own way through his attentions to women. So he seduced her … which partly accounts for his swift rise through Holland Holdings and his then being in a position to capture the eye of the boss's daughter. May I assume that the aforesaid chief accountant was old Mr Holland's tried and trusted right-hand woman? Been with him for ever and a day?'

‘There is a hint that the partnership might have been very close in the past. Mistress
and
accountant to Mr Holland, a double whammy, as they say.' He allowed himself a tiny smile at his apology for a joke.

Bea acknowledged his quip with a nod. ‘We know that Benton needed money, was in debt, probably being blackmailed … Yes, I have good reason to make that statement, but we won't go into details now. He needed money. She was in charge of moving it around the world. Might we not toy with the idea that he induced her to siphon some of it off in his direction? It would tally with what I know of him. But then something went wrong. Ah. An audit was due?'

He took another sip of wine. ‘Such a very complex organization requires the services of a good accountant over a long period of time. Sometimes they can take years to agree the amount of tax due to HM Revenue and Customs.'

‘Benton was Boy Wonder for Holland Holdings long before the eight or nine years during which he was married to Dilys. How long ago did the jiggery pokery start?'

CJ's nose whiffled at the use of ‘jiggery pokery' but he said, ‘My information would indicate that it is fairly recent.'

Bea descended to counting on her fingers. ‘How many years would the accountants have been lagging behind, do you think? Three or four? No more than that. Probably less. Say two, possibly three. The conspirators realized that Judgement Day couldn't be put off for ever. The great big wheel was coming nearer and nearer to Vera.'

Did CJ know the old song about the wheel coming nearer and nearer to Vera, which took Bea back to the flickering black and white movies of old, in which the heroine was always being tied up and threatened with an unpleasant death by some fiendish villain or other? Bea couldn't for the moment recall whether or not the wheel which was approaching Vera had been a part of a lumber mill. And then there was the episode in which the train bore down upon the heroine, who was tied up on the tracks. ‘Vera' was always saved at the last minute, of course.

‘I regret I am not acquainted with Vera,' said CJ in his driest tone, ‘Nor am I able to tell you exactly how far the auditors had got. Do eat up. You're looking tired.'

No woman feels better for being told she looks tired. Bea gave him a glare which he declined to notice. She picked up her knife and fork and managed to eat a couple of mouthfuls. Realized how hungry she was, and tucked in. Only when she'd finished did she speak again.

‘Right. An audit was due, or something else alerted Mr Holland to the fact that he was being bamboozled big time by people he'd trusted for ever. Ah, I think I may know what triggered the catastrophe for the conspirators. The deputy accountant – a man called Adamsson – is reported to have had a blazing row with his boss and with Benton, in which he accused the pair of treason, international money-laundering and pilfering the petty cash. Righteous indignation on the part of the chief accountant and Benton. Adamsson is sacked and departs, muttering threats to all and sundry.