Gold Diggers (53 page)

When Mikhail Lebokov came to London he always threw a party, and when one of the richest men in the world throws a party, everyone makes sure they drop whatever they’re doing and attends.

Erin got out of the black cab and stood looking up at Chelsea’s exclusive new waterside development soaring into the sky. Although most super-rich Russians lived in townhouses in Belgravia, Kensington and Mayfair, Mikhail had bucked the trend by buying the most luxurious penthouse flat on London’s stretch of the Thames. Word was that it cost £50 million, also making it London’s most expensive apartment. She glanced at her watch, wondering whether there was time to try Michael Wright’s number again. She had called again only twenty minutes ago, and the officer answering the phone had assured her he was due back soon and would call her immediately. In the meantime she knew that she had to speak to Adam.

The lobby of Mikhail’s apartment block was the size of a tennis court, lined with walnut and beginning to fill with beautiful young women and immaculately dressed older men.

Two well-built men wearing charcoal suits and headsets stood by the chrome lift doors with clipboards, looking less like greeters and more like KGB bodyguards. Perhaps they were, thought Erin nervously.

Luckily Adam and Karin had been sent individual invitations, which had both been delivered to the Midas Corporation in a black lacquered box, so Erin had been able to pick up Karin’s invitation from the office. She fluttered it at the security guard, trying to stop her hand trembling. Clearly the man had never heard of Karin Cavendish and nodded her through. She watched in wonder as the glass lift sped up the outside of the building, London disappearing below her as they reached the penthouse on the fifteenth floor.

The apartment was incredible. A huge bronze sculpture that Erin recognized as Henry Moore dominated the large hallway. Inside, it was a masculine flat, decorated in taupe and tobacco brown, with a few bursts of colour from some of the most famous artists of the modern era. Erin was no expert, but even she was impressed to see a Francis Bacon and a row of Andy Warhol’s ‘car crash’ silk-screens.

She walked through into an enormous lounge, sparsely furnished with a big black lacquered table, a bus-sized grey sofa and a six-foot-tall plasma screen. Tonight, however, the spaces were filled by the beautiful and powerful of London, laughing, drinking and chatting. Her eyes scanned the room for Adam, but all she saw were unfamiliar faces. This was not some show-off celebrity shindig, this was an exclusive gathering for Mikhail’s closet friends and business colleagues.

A waiter handed her a cocktail and she walked up a chrome and glass stairway clutching the ebony handrail. The crowds thinned out as she reached a mezzanine floor that led out onto a rooftop garden that echoed the Japanese theme of Mikhail’s dacha outside Moscow. Sculpted trees obscured the London skyline, koi carp swam in a black
marble pool, while cherry-wood and cream linen day beds provided a place to sit. But it was too cold to linger this evening, and Erin quickly saw that she was alone up there. Cursing, she perched on a day bed, opened her mobile and dialled Adam’s number. It rang twice before he answered.

‘It’s Erin,’ she said sharply, ‘I need to speak to you urgently. I’m at Mikhail’s party – I thought you were going to be here.’

‘I’m on my way,’ said Adam, sounding bemused. ‘What’s the problem? What are you doing there?’

She paused a moment and then decided it was too late for keeping theories to herself. ‘I think I know who killed Karin, but I need to ask you a question and you have to answer honestly.’

‘Go on,’ said Adam cautiously.

‘Where were you really on Monday night?’

It was a few moments before he spoke. ‘I went to see Summer. But when I got there, there was no reply at her apartment, so I went home alone. I had no alibi so I asked Marcus to cover for me, to stop things getting complicated with the police.’

‘So you didn’t see Marcus all evening?’

‘Summer, what are you suggesting? That Marcus did it?’ he replied, sounding incredulous. ‘What on earth would make you think such a thing?’

‘I’ll explain later but I think Marcus did it. And try and get in touch with Chief Inspector Wright. I’m having no luck.’

She snapped her mobile shut, stood up and took a big swig of cocktail to calm herself.

‘I thought we were friends, Erin. That’s no way to go talking about friends, is it?’ said a voice behind her.

Erin whirled around to find Marcus was standing only feet away, a thin half-smile on his face.

‘Marcus, what a surprise, I didn’t think you’d be here …’ she stammered.

‘Clearly,’ he leered. ‘I’m a guest of Mikhail’s architect. And it’s a good job I came, isn’t it? Now you and I can have a private chat about the little lies you’ve been spreading about me.’

‘It’s nothing, Marcus, honestly,’ she said, wondering if he had heard the whole conversation. He grabbed her arm and ushered her further into the garden, into a long seating area, shielded from the house by clipped hedges.

Marcus pushed Erin roughly against a low wall on the edge of the roof and brought his face close to hers. ‘Now, why on earth would you think I’d do such a thing as to kill Karin?’

Erin stood frozen, her heart hammering with fear. ‘Tell me!’ hissed Marcus, his fingers digging into her arm.

‘You brought the expensive wine round, didn’t you?’ whispered Erin, not knowing what to say except the truth. ‘And it was your car outside Karin’s that night,’ said Erin, so softly it was barely audible.

‘She was a tease. Like all women,’ growled Marcus, his face twisting as he moved closer towards her.

‘But what about Molly?’ said Erin, trying to think of anything that might distract him. ‘You’re in love with Molly.’

Marcus snorted. ‘Ah, yes Molly. Sweet, greedy Molly. I thought I could fall in love with that one, until I discovered she’s exactly the same as all the other gold-digging tramps I’ve ever been out with. So she uses me and I use her. She’s a very good fuck,’ he whispered, his eyes narrow and cruel as he reached up with his other hand to stroke Erin’s face.

‘Let go of me!’ she cried, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but he was too strong. She was helpless as he jerked her away from the wall and marched her towards a set of wrought-iron stairs that led up to an elevated extension of the building.

‘Where are you taking me?’ shrieked Erin, terrified now.

‘We’re going for a chat,’ he said flatly, pushing her up the steps.

‘Marcus, please,’ begged Erin. ‘If it was an accident, just tell the police. We can work this out.’

‘Don’t think I’m going to rot away in jail when it should be Adam doing the time. You do know about that, of course,’ he snarled, pushing her on to the flat roof. ‘The insider dealing, the illegal trading? Yes, of course you do, you’re his assistant. You’re up to your neck in it.’

Erin shook her head. ‘No! I don’t know anything, Marcus. Let me go and I won’t say anything.’

Marcus shook her arm violently, then pulled her in close. ‘You don’t know anything? Well let me educate you, young lady,’ he sneered. ‘Adam Gold is running on empty. He’s borrowed so heavily against his own stock that one day soon – and it will be soon because the property market can’t stay buoyant forever – it’s all going to come crashing down around his ears. Karin wouldn’t have stayed with him. She wouldn’t have wanted to stay with a pauper, with a bum.’

The very top of the building was flat and empty except for an air-conditioning unit, a large satellite dish and a low brick perimeter wall, the only barrier from a hundred-metre drop. Erin’s hair whipped around her face in the wind and hot tears run down her cheeks.

‘Marcus, please. It’s dangerous up here.’

‘No one is going to believe you, Erin. No one is going to listen to the rantings of Adam’s lovesick little PA. Because you were in love with him, Erin, weren’t you? The whole floor used to laugh about the way you hung on his every word. And when they find you, they’ll say you couldn’t stand the way he loved Karin – and you jumped.’

‘Marcus! NO!’

The cry came from behind them on the iron stairs. Marcus
spun round to see Adam coming towards them. Erin jerked away and Marcus stumbled over a cable, going down on one knee. It gave Erin just enough time to push past him and run to Adam. He pushed her behind him.

‘Erin, go and tell Mikhail what is going on up here. Get him to send his men,’ Adam whispered quickly.

‘Don’t you go anywhere, Erin,’ said Marcus, taking slow, considered steps towards the perimeter wall, ‘or I’ll jump,’ he shouted, his voice carried in the wind as he climbed onto the wall.

‘Get down, Marcus. Please,’ said Adam as calmly as he could, extending a hand towards him. For a moment, all they could hear was the whistle of the wind a hundred metres above the Thames, then Marcus began to make a choking sound, and Erin could see his face crumble.

‘I didn’t mean it!’ he screamed. ‘I didn’t mean it because I loved her! And she loved me!’

‘It was an accident Marcus, I know,’ said Adam coolly, inching towards his friend.

‘She toyed with me, Adam, likes she toys with everyone. She flirted with me in Como, but when I went round to see her she treated me like a stranger. She said I’d got the wrong idea,’ he shouted, his baritone voice wobbling. ‘How could she say that after all the looks, after all the signals she was giving me? But she said she loved you.
You
. There was a glass candlestick on the table. I picked it up …’

He was sobbing now, a deep choking coming from his throat like a car refusing to start.

‘I didn’t mean to kill her. The candlestick smashed. The end of it cut into her neck. There was so much blood,’ he said between sobs. Marcus’s feet shuffled closer to the edge.

Erin clenched her fists. ‘No!’ she screamed.

Adam lunged forward and grabbed Marcus’s wrist, just as his feet slipped off the wall. Adam was pulled forward,
jamming his feet against the wall, holding onto Marcus who was hanging over the edge of the building. Erin ran forward to help him, watching Marcus’s watery eyes full of hate and fear.

‘You always had everything I wanted,’ he said softly, looking directly at Adam.

‘I’m not letting you go,’ snarled Adam through gritted teeth, reaching another arm over the edge to grab Marcus’s body more firmly and, with Erin’s help, slowly began to hoist him back onto the roof.

The two men stumbled back onto the concrete floor as Erin turned to see Chief Inspector Wright and Chris running up the iron stairs to the roof.

‘Chris!’ shouted Erin, running into his arms.

‘It’s okay,’ he whispered, pulling her tight. ‘It’s over now.’

News of Marcus’s arrest was all over the media by the next morning. Summer sat up in her hospital bed, watching a lunchtime bulletin on the small television screen beside her bed, still trying to make sense of it all. Molly had phoned her the night before, sobbing hysterically, still refusing to believe that Marcus had killed Karin. And while Summer had to take her mother’s grief at face value – who wouldn’t be distraught to find out their partner had been in love with somebody else and then murdered them? – she knew Molly was also mourning the end of life at The Standlings. It looked like her old rival Karin had finally got one over on Molly, even from beyond the grave.

‘I think you can go home this afternoon,’ smiled a nurse, putting a tray of food on Summer’s table. ‘We’ve just got to wait for the consultant to do his rounds.’ She hovered at the door, eyes flickering to the TV screen, hoping that Summer would volunteer some information about the case. Summer’s connection to Karin Cavendish’s murder was no secret around the ward: they had been forced to field phone calls and visits from insistent reporters, all wanting a quote from Summer. But she was a nice kid, thought the nurse,
shutting the door and letting her watch the news in peace. On top of the life-threatening ordeal she had just gone through, she didn’t deserve to be hassled.

When she was alone, Summer lifted up her pyjama top and stroked the scar along her abdomen. It was over with Adam, she knew that now. He knew about the baby, he knew about her emergency – he had paid for the room – but he hadn’t visited her in hospital. She could try and justify it a million ways – after all, his fiancée had just died – but if he had
really
cared, he would have come. Summer knew she was lucky to be alive. She’d pull through. She wasn’t going to be a victim any longer. It was time for a fresh start. Rehearsals for the film started in six weeks; filming would begin in the New Year. A whole new chapter of her life was beginning and she was going to enjoy it.

Hearing the door open, she looked up expecting to see the doctor. It was Molly. Her eyes were red, she looked drawn and haggard, but was trying to smile.

‘Am I allowed to say you’ve looked better?’ smiled Summer as Molly came to sit on the bed.

‘I could say the same about you,’ she retorted, and they both started laughing. Summer lay back and expected Molly to start jabbering on about being hassled by reporters, but she surprised Summer by being quiet and looking nervous.

‘Mum? What’s up? Is anything wrong?’

Molly walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. There were so many things she wanted to tell her daughter. Some, like her own tryst with Adam, she could never reveal no matter how much she wanted to share the truth. Other things, like the recent death of Kenneth Sinclair – a grandfather Summer had never known – she would tell her in time. But there had been something Molly had wanted to do right now. Something she had to share.

‘Listen, honey, I wanted to try and do something right for once in my life,’ she said, her voice cracking.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Summer, perplexed.

‘I’ve found him. I’ve found your father,’ she said quietly.

She opened her bag and removed a piece of paper which had James Bailey’s address and telephone number written on it.

Tears were now streaming down Molly’s face, and the regret she had been suppressing for so long suddenly overwhelmed her as she handed the piece of paper to Summer.

‘I hope you’ll forgive me one day. I hope you’ll both forgive me.’

Summer moved her fragile body forward and held her arms out towards her mother. Molly pulled her daughter’s head towards her shoulder and just held her.

‘Of course I forgive you,’ whispered Summer.

It had been a long night. More police statements. Erin was exhausted but strangely energized. It was over. It had been a strange sight seeing Marcus in handcuffs, weeping, his cool, intelligent façade broken.

Adam, Chris and Erin walked out onto the street outside Scotland Yard where Adam’s jet-black Maybach car was waiting for them. It had been raining, the night sky was charcoal black and a sour breeze blew in from the Thames. Adam’s driver jumped out of the front seat and opened the door nearest the kerb.

Adam stood in front of it waiting for Erin to jump in. ‘I take it you want to go straight home?’ smiled Adam. His face looked tired and drawn. For the first time since she had met him, he looked old. She paused to look at Chris who was hanging back from the car. Adam nodded at him. ‘You too.’

He shot a look at Adam and shrugged. ‘I’ve got my bike. I’d better not leave it in town all night.’

He turned to Erin. ‘I’ll see you back home in about half an hour. Are you sure you’ll be okay?’

‘Chauffeured all the way the home in a Maybach? Of course I’ll be okay,’ she grinned. ‘Seriously, I’m fine. Just a little shaken, but glad it’s over.’

She went up to him and hugged him. ‘We would never have got him without you,’ she whispered in his ear.

The door of the car shut with a heavy thud as Erin sank back in the leather seat, watching Chris unlock his bicycle from a railing opposite the station. The car pulled off onto Whitehall and she craned her neck to watch Big Ben’s face shining like a moon. London’s architecture was spectacular if only you bothered to look up, she thought.

‘I don’t suppose this is a great time to hand in my notice,’ she said, turning to Adam, who was reaching for a decanter of brandy in front of him. For a moment he had a look of complete surprise, then he shrugged and gave a soft laugh.

‘I always knew this day would come sooner rather than later,’ he said. ‘My mother said your book was too good to waste.’

Erin laughed to herself. ‘It’s not just the book, though,’ she said. ‘That building in South London. The one I bought? I found out this morning that I’ve got planning permission and I need to get started on work right away.’

‘Spoken like a tycoon in the making,’ he smiled, taking a sip of the deep orange liquid.

A tycoon
, thought Erin. Suddenly she felt scared and exposed. She had no job, an empty building, and three-quarters of a book to write before Christmas. Only a few weeks before, the future had seemed full of promise; now it was so uncertain.

‘Oh God, Adam, what do I do now?’ she said.

Adam laughed. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said, lifting his glass in toast. ‘Believe me, you’ll be more than fine. But if you
will allow me to make one request, as your outgoing boss,’ he said, looking out of the window as the car stopped at the junction with Trafalgar Square. ‘There’s a very nice guy about to pull up next to us on a bicycle, and I think he could do with some company home.’

Erin turned to see Chris was drawing level with the Maybach on the inside lane.

‘You know me better than I know myself,’ she grinned as the car window purred down.

‘Pull over!’ she shouted to Chris above the noise of the traffic. ‘I’m taking you for dinner!’

Erin got out of the car as Chris pulled his bicycle onto the pavement. The Maybach tooted its horn as it drove off around Trafalgar Square.

‘Dinner? You can’t afford me,’ he smiled as they stood together under the flashing lights of a theatre.
Has Chris always been this good looking?
she asked herself as she suddenly felt her heart flutter. She felt contented and comfortable next to him, and realized that, over the past six months, it was moments like this, when it was just the two of them together, that she had felt most happy.

‘That car suited you,’ he said softly.

‘Nah. It’s not my style,’ she smiled, touching her fingertips ever so gently against his.

‘What is your style?’ he said, moving closer so their faces were only inches apart.

‘Someone like you,’ she said. He moved in to kiss her but she put a hand against his chest.

‘Not so fast,’ she said. ‘What about the redhead?’

‘What redhead?’ asked Chris, pulling away.

‘The pretty redhead I saw coming out of your flat.’

‘Oh, you mean Jenny,’ he replied, a little embarrassed. ‘Poor girl hasn’t heard from me for a couple of weeks now.’

‘Oh yes, lover boy?’ teased Erin. ‘And why not?’

He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t fair to date someone when I’m in love with you.’

His lips touched hers in a featherweight kiss that felt as sweet and delicate as a flower petal. When they finally uncoiled from each other, Chris picked up his bike and started pushing it with one hand, his other laced between Erin’s fingers. Trafalgar Square was lit up like a fairground, thought Erin, the illuminated frontage of the National Gallery spilling a soft buttery light onto the puddles. She didn’t want to go home; she wanted to savour the moment forever.

‘I’ve given my notice in to Adam.’

Chris gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Well, it really has been a strange day.’

‘And I have another confession, too. Remember those architect’s drawings you saw in the flat the other day? They weren’t from work, they’re mine. I bought a bit of a building wreck a few months ago to convert into apartments. The mortgage payments have been killing me, but planning permission has come through and I’m starting immediately. I hope I can get a bank loan now I haven’t got a job; otherwise I’ll have to sell it.’

‘You’re developing apartments?’ said Chris, nearly dropping his bicycle. ‘What about the book?’

‘I want to do both,’ she said firmly. ‘I know I can do both.’

‘I don’t doubt you for a minute,’ said Chris honestly. ‘But why didn’t you tell me about your building?’

‘I guess I didn’t want to admit to you, to myself, how crazy I was being. I mean, what do I know about developing property? I guess I was seduced by the life at Midas; thought I could do it too.’

He stopped and reached over to stroke back a lock of hair that had fallen in her face. ‘You’re not crazy. Just brave and clever. That’s what I love about you.’

Erin felt herself blush. ‘Well, it’s a scary prospect. I have
a builder on standby ready to start, and I guess I’m going to have to project-manage it myself.’

‘If you want any help, just shout,’ he said.

‘Oh, I’ll come knocking alright. Make sure you have a big stock of brandy at the ready at the end of every day.’

‘I didn’t mean that. I’ve got a bit of experience in property development. I sort of dabble in property myself.’

It was Erin’s turn to look surprised. ‘You dabble in property? In what way do you “dabble”?’ she asked cheekily. ‘Define “dabble”.’ Their heads were only inches apart and she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

‘I own Peony House,’ Chris said quietly.

Erin jumped back. ‘You own my flat! My tenancy agreement says the landlord is JuniorCon Ltd or something.’

He nodded. ‘Well, I’m embarrassed to say it’s me. Peony House was bought and developed by my father’s property company. He transferred it over to me a few years ago when I told him I wanted to be a journalist and wasn’t going to join the family firm. I formed a limited company just to manage the building. It’s my nest egg.’

‘I thought you said your dad was a builder?’

‘He is. He’s got a building company. The Scanlan Group.’

Erin was shaking her head in disbelief. Scanlan were one of the biggest home-builders in Ireland. George Scanlan – Chris’s father, presumably – was an aristocratic industrialist of the old school, building schools and hospitals with his spare cash. Erin backed away from Chris, shaking her head.

‘Erin. What’s wrong?’ asked Chris, leaning his bike against a lamppost.

‘I thought I was through with rich men,’ she whispered through a half-smile.

‘Don’t hate me because I’m loaded,’ laughed Chris, taking her in his arms and kissing her as Big Ben struck midnight. It was a new day. A new start. A new life together.