The Aura (29 page)

“You need to call Josh,” Olivia said over breakfast the next day. “He’ll want to know about your call with Montgomery.” She’d been staying at Leo’s, driving him to work in the morning, while I made breakfast for the boys and took them to school. For a few days, the routine had been surprisingly pleasurable, but I was beginning to feel the need to get back to London. I missed Josh, I missed my job. I wanted to resume some sort of normal life.

My cellphone rang while I was putting my plate in the sink. I thought it might be Jack. He’d tried to reach me a couple of times, but I’d missed his calls. To my surprise, it was Alan.

“Kate. When are you coming back to work?”

“You want me back?”

“Want isn’t exactly the word I’d use. But I need you. We still have work to do. I can’t do it all myself.”

“Okay,” I said. I was ready. I assumed that Jack was the cause of Alan’s change of heart. I was grateful; I’d take Jack out for lunch as soon as he was available. “But I may need time off occasionally to deal with some things related to the murder inquiry, and other issues. If you can handle that, I can start again tomorrow.”

“Hold my feet to the fire, why don’t you? You’ll be asking for a raise next.”

“Well, actually…”

“Just come on back and get some work done. Then we can talk.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

I was up to my elbows in dishwater when the phone rang again, dancing around on the countertop. I leaned over to see who was calling. It was Josh. I rushed to pick up the phone and it slipped out of my soapy hands, slid along the counter and balanced precariously for a second before tipping over the edge. I caught it with my foot, breaking its fall before it hit the tile floor. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I picked it up. It was still intact and working.

“Everything all right?” asked Josh. “It sounded as though you were playing football with the phone.”

“Well, I dropped you but then I caught you,” I said. “The phone, that is.”

“I was thinking of coming to Oxford to see you, if you’re up to it?”

“Of course. But are you? Your injuries were far worse than mine.”

He told me the doctor had signed him off the day before, said it was okay for him to walk, but not too much.

“I love my parents,” he said. “But I need to get out for a while. I’m missing you. And there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

We agreed that I’d meet him at the station at three that afternoon.

I spent the rest of the day cleaning and shopping, and prepared dinner for the family. It was the least I could do to thank Leo and Olivia for looking after me. I washed my favorite jeans and shirt, polished my boots, and blow-dried my hair. Stepping outside, I took a deep breath. The weather had changed in the past few days, the rain and mist giving way to clear skies. It was very cold, but I preferred that to the rain.

When Josh came through the ticket barrier, my heart fluttered. I felt warm from head to toe. We hugged, our heavy wool coats getting in the way.

“Do you want to go for a coffee to warm up?” he asked.

The cafe was crowded, the tables piled with open laptops and steaming mugs; a faint aroma of unwashed clothes mingled with the smell of coffee. A group of students in one corner appeared to have set up an informal debate club, arguing loudly about climate change and population growth. At a table nearby, a professorial-looking type talked earnestly with three young women who jotted words in spiral-bound notebooks.

Josh bought us both coffees and scones while I found a table for two next to the window. For a few minutes, we talked about Josh’s doctor visits and how he was feeling. He looked good. The pallor was gone. He seemed to be walking well, apart from a slight limp.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked.

He reached over to take my hand in his. “I missed you so much. It’s time to get back to London so we can spend some time together.”

I smiled. That’s how I felt too.

“But you did say there was something you wanted to talk about?” I reminded him.

He glanced around, as though checking that no one was listening.

“Remember your last full day at work, when I was stuck in Alan’s office for hours?”

“Hmm. I think so. What was going on?”

“Alan and Jack told me that there was some financial risk to continuing with the Montgomery project. They didn’t elaborate, but I’ve had plenty of time to do a bit of research. And I talked with my Dad. He used to be a corporate attorney, so he knows about this stuff.”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“Montgomery Group is probably the tenth largest real estate developer in London right now. Maybe a little higher in the rankings if you take into account their foreign investments. Five years ago, they weren’t even in the top twenty. They’ve been gobbling up real estate in the city and elsewhere in Britain, taking over foreclosed buildings, investing in new ones, and improving some of their older properties.”

“That sounds expensive,” I said.

Josh nodded. “Very. A lot of those projects were financed with five- to seven-year financing deals, and many are coming up to be refinanced right now. But there’s no money available. The banks have had their fingers burned and they’re not ladling out money the way they used to.”

“Which means Montgomery will default on some of their loans?” I asked.

“Exactly. Some very big loans. It’s not just Montgomery, of course. A bunch of other developers are in the same boat. There’s roughly two hundred and eighty billion pounds’ worth of real estate debt due to mature in the next year to eighteen months and some of the analysts believe that about a third of that could become delinquent. There are a lot of fortunes about to be lost.”

I sipped my coffee, which tasted burned. “So what does that have to do with Bradley Cohen exactly?”

Josh ran his finger around the rim of his cup, glanced around the cafe and leaned in towards me. “Montgomery represents nearly fifty percent of Bradley Cohen’s revenues for this year.”

“That’s crazy, Josh. Alan always said that we’d never be dependent on one or two clients, that we’d always have a mixed portfolio that would protect us from risk if any single company failed to pay us.”

“I know. That’s what I thought too. But wait until you hear this. It was Rebecca who told them – Alan and Jack – about the state of Montgomery’s finances. She told them completely off the record that the budget Peter Montgomery had given us for the development on the Islington building was outside the range of acceptable risk.”

“Huh? What does the range of acceptable risk mean?”

“Well, any property developer has to analyze the total return for each asset. How much rent they can charge, for example, and what it costs to run the asset, with property taxes, utilities, security, whatever. And they try to project the value of the final disposition to make sure that it is a sound investment.”

“Explain ‘final disposition’?”

“The ultimate sale of the property. So they calculate how long they should hang on to it and what it will be worth if and when they sell.”

“Was that part of Rebecca’s job? I knew she was responsible for budgets but didn’t realize there was so much more to it.”

“I’m sure she worked closely with other managers in the company, but she certainly understood the risk of continuing with the project, both for Montgomery and for Bradley Cohen,” Josh continued. “She was sure they would run out of money before the building could be leased and start to generate revenues. And if Montgomery ran out of money, then we wouldn’t get paid.”

“So what happened when she told us her concerns? We didn’t pull out of the project?”

“Apparently not. Did Rebecca say anything to you about any of this?”

“No, nothing. I would have told you if she had.”

I thought back. She and I hadn’t talked about work much at all. I’d told her a little about what I did, but she’d never really described her job. She said she liked it, that she enjoyed the challenge. But that was all.

“And the vast majority choose to ignore scientific fact,” shouted one of the students, slamming his fist on his table, pulling me back to the present.

“So should we be worried?” I asked Josh. “Are our jobs at risk? Alan called me this morning, asking me to come back. He said there’s loads of work to do. Of course, we do have other clients apart from Montgomery, so maybe he meant that I’d be working on some of those.”

“He told me the same thing,” Josh said. “For now, at least, I think the company is safe and solvent. But losing the Montgomery project would take a serious toll.”

“Talking of Montgomery,” I said. “He called me.” I told him what he’d said. When I’d finished, Josh looked stunned. “So he was Rebecca’s boyfriend. Did he kill her?”

“Inspector Clarke thinks not. He has an alibi for the time that Rebecca died.”

I sipped my coffee. “I wanted him to be the killer. I really dislike him.”

“I suppose being an awful human being doesn’t make you a criminal.”

We sat quietly for a minute.

“Er, how’s the aura thing going?” he asked after a while. “Any more sightings?”

“Yep. Still there, not that it’s doing me any good.”

“You saved Aidan,” he said. “That has to count for something.”

“But not Rebecca and not Nick.”

“No.”

I invited Josh to come to Leo’s for dinner, but he said his mum would kill him if he didn’t get back home soon. Finishing our coffee, we linked arms for the walk back to the station. Now he’d been out for a while, his limp seemed more pronounced and he looked tired.

“When will I see you again?” I asked.

“Soon. I told Alan I’d come back to work in about a week.”

The train was at the platform when we reached the station and I was irrationally annoyed. Trains ran late all the time. Why not today, to give me a few more minutes with Josh? I knew he needed to go home, but I was reluctant to let him leave. He made me feel safe, dispelled my doubts, and made me believe that one day I would be able to forget the trauma of Rebecca’s death and the attack at my apartment. But there the train was, with a conductor walking along the platform, slamming the doors closed. Josh got into the nearest carriage and turned back to wave goodbye. I watched until the train disappeared around a bend in the tracks.

The following morning, after an early start, I got to the office just before nine. Annie waved at me from the reception desk, looking pleased to see me. I’d chat with her later. For now, I wanted to get to my desk quickly, to demonstrate my good intentions to Alan.

He’d left a sticky note on my computer screen telling me to go see him as soon as I arrived. With some trepidation, I walked to his office.

“Come in,” he said. “Bloody mess this has been, losing you and Josh at the same time.”

“I’m doing much better, thank you,” I said, smiling sweetly.

He flushed. “Well, I’m sorry about that attack in your apartment, and not just because it’s fouling up our projects. You look okay. How’s Josh?”

“Good. He’s looking forward to being back next week. So, what do you want me to work on?” I hesitated. “Is the Montgomery project still going ahead?”

“Of course it is,” he said. “Montgomery might be a jerk, but we can lower our standards to work with him.”

“What makes you so sure he’s a jerk?”

Alan raised his hands. “Gossip. Rumor. Apparently, he was having an affair with that young woman who was his Financial Director.”

“News does get around quickly,” I said. “I only found out about that a few days ago.”

“Yeah, well, the police have been crawling around here, asking everyone questions, wasting time. Bloody inconvenient.”

“They do have a murderer to catch,” I said.

Alan muttered something under his breath.

“I’m glad the project is still on,” I said. “Although Josh mentioned a problem with Montgomery’s finances.”

I braced myself for Alan to rage about confidentiality of information or something. Instead, I saw him looking over my shoulder. I turned to see Jack in the doorway. Elegant as ever in his bow tie and expensive suit, he took a seat next to me.

“Kate, my dear, how are you doing? I’m so sorry about the attack in your apartment. Dreadful. I hope you’re recovering? Have they identified the man who did it?”

“No. But they’re confident they’ll find him. The sooner the better. He’s a lunatic. He killed Rebecca and Nick, and hurt Josh. I’d like to snap the cuffs on him myself.”

Jack patted the back of my hand. “Very understandable. But let the police do their job. We don’t want you to put yourself in more danger. Are you sure you should be here? Don’t you need more time to recuperate?”

“Oh, I’m doing so much better. I’m looking forward to working again. Thank you both for letting me come back.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Jack said. “You shouldn’t overdo things.”

“Kate’s young and she can handle it,” interrupted Alan. “Speaking of which, we have lots to do and no time to sit around here talking. Here you are, Kate.”

He handed me a piece of paper. “Those are the project codes. Check the status report for each one, create an action list and prioritize. You know what to do.”

I stood up, excited to be back, thrilled to be needed. And I was relieved to hear that Alan wasn’t concerned about Bradley Cohen’s finances. Perhaps everyone had initially overreacted, or maybe Josh had misconstrued what Alan had told him.

When I got to the door, I remembered something. “Alan, I promised Inspector Clarke that I’d go into the station some time today. It shouldn’t take long.”

Alan frowned. “Really? What now?”

“He wants me to look at a sketch of a man seen visiting Rebecca. A neighbor saw him on the stairs apparently. It will only take a few minutes. I’ll take a short lunch break and be right back.”

“OK. I hope this investigation winds up soon. It’s taking up far too much of your time.”

The morning passed in a blur of activity. Seeing that we’d fallen behind on several of our client projects, I created worksheets listing what needed to be done. Just before lunch, I was able to give Alan an updated project status and had started some catch-up work on a new shopping complex east of the City. As soon as that was done, I took a cab to the police station. Clarke wasn’t there, but a constable showed me the sketch that Gary had worked on. It was a good likeness of someone, I was sure, but not of anyone I recognized. Although I thought he resembled someone I knew or had seen somewhere, I couldn’t work out who it was. Rather irritated by the time I’d wasted, I hurried back, detouring to Alan’s office, where he and Jack were poring over blueprints spread out on the desk.