Missing (17 page)

‘Right, where were we?’ Vivienne said, as she sat down. ‘Ah, I know, I was about to ask if you’ve come up with a venue for the auction yet?’

‘Oh yeah, that’s all taken care of,’ Stella replied, tearing her maternal gaze from Sharon. ‘Lady Blake’s letting us use the big barn at her horse refuge. She’s done auctions there before, so this won’t be the first.’

Vivienne’s heart turned over.

‘My sister-in-law, Laura, is Lady Blake’s housekeeper,’ Stella was saying, ‘that’s who we got to ring Mr Avery for your number.’

At the mention of Miles Vivienne felt a current of embarrassment pass around the group. Obviously the connection was finally being made.

‘Lady Blake’s in Australia at the minute with Sir Richard,’ Stella rattled on, ‘but she told Laura she’s got to open up the cider press for you to use while you’re here. Or you can stay in the big house if you like, she said, but it’s all closed up and under sheets at present, till they comes back.’

‘That’s very generous,’ Vivienne murmured, wondering how she could refuse the offer, whilst already knowing she couldn’t, because where else were they going to find such a perfect venue? And even if they could, did she really want to admit that she was turning down Susie and Richard’s offer because
their
estate, and the horse refuge, were in the next valley to Moorlands?

‘I think I’ll just have to go with it for now,’ she told Alice later on the phone, while attempting to keep up with Stella’s Subaru which was careering through the country lanes like a souped-up pinball. ‘It’s only until Wednesday, provided all goes to plan.’

‘But you have to go back.’

‘By which time everything could have changed again. And if it hasn’t, well, I guess I’ll have to cross that bridge when I come to it.’

‘OK. So how did you get on with Stella? Isn’t she a scream?’

‘Priceless. So are the others, actually. Sharon came. They’re all completely blown away by Theo’s offer to get involved.’

‘We knew they would be. How is Sharon?’

‘On the face of it she seems to be doing quite well. Her spirits are up, and by the time the meeting was over she had some colour in her cheeks, mainly thanks to a couple of firemen who dropped in to say hello. They’re a raucous bunch of ladies, there’s no doubt about that, and the men were lapping it up.’

‘Sounds like you’re going to have quite an event on your hands.’

‘Tell me about it. Anyway, back to you, how did the cast meeting go today?’

‘Before we get into that, I think I’d better tell you something I just heard on
PM
.’

Immediately Vivienne’s insides started to tighten.

‘The reporter who did the article in today’s
Mail
was being interviewed, and she said that since she wrote her piece the police have confirmed that they’ve …’

Vivienne frowned as she stopped. ‘Alice?’ she prompted.

There was only silence from the other end.

‘Alice? Are you there?’

Still nothing.

‘For God’s sake,’ Vivienne seethed. ‘This is so not the time to lose a signal.’

As Justine James pulled up outside Miles’s Kensington home she was no longer quite so focused on how appealing she might look in her loosely laced blue bustier beneath a shimmering black shirt, as she was on the interview she’d heard whilst driving over. Since it had been on Radio 4, she knew it was safe to assume that Miles had heard it too, so she might as well brace herself now for the explosion that was probably already under way.

Taking her small suitcase from the boot, she double-clicked the remote to lock the car and pushed open the black iron gate to his pocket-sized front garden. The front door was slightly ajar, so presuming he’d left it open for her she stepped inside and put her bag down on the marble-tiled floor. She was on the point of calling out to let him know she’d arrived when she heard him shouting, ‘You don’t understand. I have to speak to her … Yes, I heard what you said … I’m sorry, I know it’s not your fault. Oh, for God’s sake,’ and she flinched as he banged the receiver down and came storming out of his study.

‘Hi,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Bad time?’

Ignoring her, he turned down the hall towards the kitchen.

‘Miles, for heaven’s sake, what difference does it
make?’
she implored, going after him. ‘It was bound to come out …’

He looked up, pale with anger. ‘How did the
Mail
find out the police had spoken to Vivienne?’ he demanded.

Shocked, Justine shrank from the accusation in his eyes. ‘For God’s sake Miles, so the police have questioned Vivienne Kane and Colleen Peterson found out. She’s a journalist. It’s her job …’

‘Why are you defending her?’

‘I’m not. I’m just pointing out what you already know, that the press is bound to be all over this because of who you are.’

‘So this morning we have Colleen Peterson running a ludicrously ill-informed spread in the
Mail
, and now this evening we have the same damned woman being interviewed on the BBC like she’s some goddamned expert on the case, telling the world that Vivienne’s a part of the investigation …’

‘Miles, try to be rational. Everyone knew about you and Vivienne when you were together, and why you broke up, so it stands to reason someone’s going to call the police to ask if they’ve spoken to her.’

‘Was it you?’

Her face flushed with anger. ‘I don’t give my stories away to other reporters,
or
other papers,’ she retorted, ‘and I sure as hell don’t do their donkey work for them either.’

‘But you have called the police to find out?’

‘You asked me to work with you on this, so yes, of course I contacted the police. You must have known I would, so don’t give me a hard time over it now.’

Seeming grudgingly to accept that, he turned and tugged open an overhead cupboard. ‘I’ve been
thinking,’
he said, taking out a full bottle of Scotch, ‘I’m not so sure it’s a good idea for you to get involved in this.’

Her eyes rounded with alarm. He couldn’t back out now, she’d staked virtually everything on it. ‘Miles, the Critch is going to take you to the cleaners, given half a chance …’

‘The
Mail
’s doing it for him.’

‘Which is not what he wants. Christ, he hates them almost as much as he hates you, so no way does he want them walking off with your head on a platter.’

‘Justine …’

‘You did the right thing in asking for my help,’ she persisted, ‘and here’s why. Between us we can feed the real story to the
Mail
, you know, everything that’s happening with the search and what went on during the time leading up to it, whilst we give the Critch all the dirt he can deal with, and let him bury himself in it.’

He was shaking his head. ‘This isn’t a time to play games.’

‘It’s not games, it’s a strategy,’ she cried. Seeing he was about to protest again, she cut him off with, ‘I thought you were trying to protect Kelsey, so please tell me how you’re going to do that if you’ve got no one working with you.’

Though his face remained pale, as he glanced at her she could see she was starting to get through.

‘Have you spoken to Kelsey?’ she asked.

‘She won’t have heard about
PM
.’

‘Yet. How did she take the spread in the
Mail
? Has she seen it?’

‘I don’t think so. She’s back at school now, so I’ve only spoken to her briefly today. She didn’t mention it.’

‘Whatever, you have to try and gain control of this,’
she
pressed. ‘Don’t let scum like the Critch have a field day …’

‘Colleen Peterson’s on the
Mail
,’ he reminded her.

‘Yes, and she hasn’t said anything that isn’t true. OK, you might not like Vivienne’s name being out there and attached to yours right now, but you knew very well it was going to happen. It had to.’

He nodded gravely, and seemed almost to withdraw into his thoughts as he said, ‘Where the hell is she? She’s not answering her mobile. Kayla says she’s out of town, not due back until Thursday.’

‘Maybe she doesn’t want to speak to you.’

His eyes immediately sharpened. ‘Do you want a drink?’ he said sourly.

‘Since you ask so nicely, I’ll have one of those on the rocks.’

He began breaking ice into the glasses, then suddenly looked up. ‘How did you get in?’ he demanded.

Her freshly plucked eyebrows made a slow rise. ‘The door was open,’ she informed him, ‘and it’s Monday evening, which, I’m still hoping, means we’re driving to Devon.’

After fixing her with a slightly less virulent look he thrust a glass at her, and picked up the phone to try Vivienne’s mobile again. ‘Damn!’ he muttered, cutting the line as he was diverted through to voicemail. ‘I need to speak to her.’

Justine watched him snatch up his glass and down the Scotch in one go, before pouring another. ‘I don’t understand what you’re getting so worked up about,’ she said, perching on one of the bar stools. ‘It’s not as though anyone’s accused her of anything, or that it’s going to come as any great shock to the world to find
out
your friends and neighbours are being questioned. At the risk of sounding like a plod, it’s routine.’

His eyes flashed again. ‘We both know what’s happening here,’ he snapped. ‘Colleen Peterson is setting up a story for the
Mail
that she’s going to make run and run, based on nothing more than fragments of fact held together by salacious speculation and crass innuendo. Hell, you know how it works, you’ve done it often enough yourself. It sells papers, and that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Fuck the truth, it’s got no place on the bottom line.’

Her expression was sardonic, but she wasn’t going to remind him of his own days on the redtops, or point out what a salutary experience it was being on the receiving end. Instead she said, ‘I have a question for you. Try not to bite my head off, but why are you so concerned about Vivienne over this mild exposé, and not about the effect it might be having on Jacqueline?’

He stiffened, as his eyes came angrily to hers. ‘In case it’s slipped your memory,’ he said tightly, ‘I have no idea how to get hold of Jacqueline.’

‘But you’re worried about how this might be going down with her,’ she insisted. ‘I mean, if she’s heard the news, which she might well have.’

’I’d have thought it went without saying that I’m concerned about her,’ he snarled.

She smiled and shrugged. ‘Sorry. It just wasn’t looking that way.’

His eyes stayed on hers. ‘What are you driving at, Justine?’ His voice was dangerously low.

‘Well, I’m just wondering,’ she began tentatively. ‘Are you sure you don’t know where Jacqueline is?’ she blurted courageously.

His glass hit the counter top so hard it was a miracle
it
didn’t break. ‘You know the way out,’ he told her furiously.

She didn’t move. ‘What are you so afraid of, Miles?’ she challenged. ‘OK, I know this is a tough time, and you’re obviously at your wits’ end, but the way you’re behaving—’ She stopped suddenly.

‘Go on,’ he prompted. ‘The way I’m behaving …’

‘Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t help thinking you’re hiding something. So I’m asking – are you?’

There was such a horrible silence then that she started to remember, for the first time in years, what it was to feel real fear in front of this man. Then, quite suddenly, it was as though she’d just been cut free from a noose. His temper deflated and he picked up his empty glass. ‘As it happens, I’m not,’ he said, swirling the melting ice, ‘unless you think wanting to keep my private life just that, is hiding something.’

Her eyes went to the phone as it rang.

Miles picked it up, and hearing the voice at the other end he immediately turned away. ‘Thank God,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you. Have you heard the news?’

Justine couldn’t hear the reply, but she didn’t need to to know who was calling. It was evident not only from his words, but from the softness of his tone as he spoke them.

She watched him walk into the conservatory and close the door behind him. Just these past few minutes had shown her that getting her old friend Colleen Peterson to run a story in the
Mail
, then drop Vivienne’s name into the five o’clock bulletin, had been the right call. She couldn’t put anything in her own name right now, but if everything went to plan this story was going to earn her a first-class ticket out
of
Critch hell and onto the
Mail
, because that was the deal she and Colleen had struck with the
Mail
’s editor this past weekend.

She didn’t like to think of it as a betrayal of Miles; after all, she’d more or less told him five minutes ago that it was what she was intending to do, and no way would she file anything to anyone that wasn’t true. No, this was more a saving of her own skin, because if she’d learned anything during her years as a journalist, it was to take care of herself first, and never to trust an editor. Not even Miles. And if he thought he was going to pull out of their agreement now, then he needed to think again, because she was going nowhere until she’d found out for certain if that child really did exist – and if it did, what part was it playing in Jacqueline Avery’s disappearance?

Chapter Seven

‘NO, I DIDN’T
hear the news myself,’ Vivienne was saying into the phone. ‘I just called Alice at the office and she told me. She said you were trying to reach me.’

‘I was,’ Miles confirmed. ‘Where are you?’

She looked around the converted cider press that Susie Blake’s housekeeper had unlocked for her a few minutes ago. Quaint and cosy, it consisted of no more than a small kitchen-cum-sitting room, and a staircase leading to a vaulted mezzanine bedroom with en suite bath. ‘I’m out of town seeing new clients,’ she answered briefly.

There was a pause before he said, ‘I’m sorry this is happening. Your name shouldn’t have been dragged into it.’

As aware as he was of what had happened the last time their names had been linked in the press, she tried to downplay it by saying, ‘It was bound to happen, and after today there shouldn’t be any reason to mention me again.’