The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit) (38 page)

He left them with a member of the administrative staff to deal with formalities and paperwork, and to wait for the police.

Helen went back to her seat, and Jason followed her. If anything she seemed more uneasy now, even after the relatively good news about Fay. It made no sense.

‘I’m not sure what to tell the police when they get here,’ she said.

He took her hand. ‘You just tell them what you saw. No need to sweat it.’

‘If I do that, then you …’ She pulled her hand away and got up.

Concern that her feelings for him had changed turned to horror as it dawned on him what she was trying hard not to say. It churned in his stomach like a raging beast waking from its slumber.

It couldn’t be.

‘What did you mean by your question “where would my loyalties lie”?’ He heard his own voice coming from far away, disembodied from the rest of him. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’

She took a deep breath. ‘Because one of the witnesses said the car was aiming for me, and that Fay saved my life by pushing me out of the way. And I saw it myself as it drove off. It was like the one your father has.’

Jason jumped up from his seat. ‘What?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but the witness …’

He stared back at her, noticed how she almost cringed against the wall, then lowered his hands which he’d balled into fists without noticing. A low table stacked with leaflets stood in the centre of the room. He kicked it hard, sending it skidding across the floor, then stormed out of the waiting area, ignoring her pleas for him not to go.

In the cobbled lane outside the old warehouse which had been converted into offices, Derek Moody’s black, luxurious but nevertheless nondescript car was parked. Jason knelt and inspected the front. The left bumper had a recent-looking dent in it.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he held back the anger which rolled over him in waves, but found it impossible. Instead he tore into the building, past a startled-looking security officer and up the stairs to the top floor.

‘You can’t just barge in,’ said Ms Barclay when she saw him.

He said nothing, only held up his hand, and the woman who could have silenced a lion stepped back and let him pass.

His father was just leaving, buttoning up his suit jacket while the bodyguard held a briefcase for him. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Jason.

‘Jason, what a—’

He never finished the sentence. Jason reached him in three strides and lashed out. When Derek ducked, an uncontrollable rage exploded inside him, and he struck again, this time connecting with his father’s nose. There was a satisfying crunch and a yelp of pain, and Derek crumbled to his knees on the floor.

‘You bastard!’ Jason shouted. ‘You fucking bastard!’

Moving swiftly, Jones was on him, one arm pinning him to his massive chest, the other behind his neck, poised to snap it. Jason almost didn’t care.

‘Jones …’ Derek groaned and shook his head. Jones released Jason as quickly as he’d seized him, and Jason stumbled forward but managed to steady himself. Jones stared at him impassively.

‘What the devil’s got into you?’ Although his father’s voice was muffled and nasal as he tried to stem the blood from his bleeding nose, it still held the usual icy authority.

‘You fucking ran her over!’

‘I’ve no idea who or what you’re talking about.’ Helped by Jones, Derek sat up on one of the leather sofas, and the muscle-man handed him a handful of tissues from a box on the coffee table.

‘Head back, Mr Moody. That’ll stop the blood.’

Ms Barclay appeared in the doorway, her hands to her cheeks in horror. ‘Oh, my word! Jason, what have you done?’

‘Go help Ms Barclay with the first aid box, would you, Jones.’ Dismayed, Jason’s father stared at the bright red stains on his white shirt and the lapels of his jacket. ‘Oh, and Ms Barclay, I’ll need a clean shirt and suit as well. I believe you keep a couple of spares for me.’

‘Certainly, Mr Moody.’ Recovered now, she sent Jason a stern look and tutted on her way out as if he was merely a very naughty boy.

Well, you ain’t seen nothing yet, he thought with grim satisfaction.

‘With all due respect, Mr Moody,’ said Jones, ‘I think I better stay here.’

‘For God’s sake, man, this is my son! He’s hardly likely to bump me off, is he?’

Jones sent Jason a look which suggested he wouldn’t put it past him, but retreated, reluctantly. Jason shuddered, not from fear of the goon, but because he realised that he’d acted just like his father, using violence to get what he wanted.

‘What’s all this about?’ Derek asked again.

‘I love her, and you tried to kill her.’

‘Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Yes, you bloody well do. Helen. You tried to run her over.’

‘So she isn’t dead, then?’

It might have been his imagination, but did his father sound relieved? Jason doubted it. He was a swine through and through. ‘Someone else got hit instead. Fay.’

‘The Cooper woman? Pity.’

‘Yes, the “Cooper woman”,’ Jason aped and clenched his fists to stop himself from hitting his father again.

‘Is
she
dead?’

‘Nobody’s dead. Stop trying to hide behind this … obtuseness of yours. No one bloody buys it. Why did you do it? Why do you have to destroy everything that matters to me?’

‘How can I possibly answer that question? You’re convinced of my guilt. Nothing I say will change your opinion.’ Derek touched his nose carefully, then winced in pain. ‘Dammit! I think it’s broken.’

‘Good,’ said Jason. ‘It’s nothing less than you deserve. Your car was seen. Black saloon.’

‘Black saloons are thirteen to the dozen. No reason to assume it was mine.’

‘A witness gave a pretty good description. Got a partial number plate.’

‘Some people will say anything for a moment in the limelight. And there are plenty of people who’d like to see me in the hot seat.’

‘Your car has a dent in it.’

Derek shrugged. ‘Jones and I had a run-in with a lamp post.’

‘And if I go to the police? They’ll impound your car.’

‘Then they’ll find it squeaky-clean. Just like I’ve always been.’ He coughed suddenly and, leaning forward, hawked up blood, then he sat back again with a clean wad of tissue papers pressed against his nostrils. ‘But I know you won’t.’

‘What do you know about me, what I will and won’t do?’ The rage returned, but this time there was method to Jason’s madness. The thought came back to him, the one he’d had when he and Helen had talked in the bathroom after her grand mal seizure, the one he had pushed aside because he didn’t want to think it through to its conclusion. He went to the desk, picked up his father’s paper knife and plunged it into the sofa beside his father’s head. The white gold blade punctured the softly cured leather like human skin.

His father gave a strangled squeak, and more blood came out of his nose.

‘Didn’t see that coming, did you?’

Narrowing his eyes, Derek regained his composure. ‘What’s your point?’

‘My point is,’ Jason sneered and leaned over his father with his hands on the backrest, ‘that you were there that morning Helen’s mother was murdered. I don’t know exactly what your involvement with R & D is, or was, other than being a shareholder on the board, but I’m betting you arranged to meet Mimi Stephanov. Did you kill her with her own knife? Or was it Fay Cooper’s?’

His father simply stared at him, a muscle working furiously in his jaw.

‘Not going to answer that? Of course not. You couldn’t possibly reassure your only child that you’re not a murderer. Well, never mind.’ Jason withdrew the knife and noted with satisfaction how a bit of stuffing spilled out of the expensive leather sofa. ‘Whatever your involvement, if I present this knife to the police, you’ll go down for perverting the course of justice. Or worse.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘Trevor.’

‘I’ll have his head,’ Derek muttered.

‘No, you won’t. You’ll lay off him just like you’ll lay off everyone else. A woman spent twenty years in prison going through all kinds of hell because she thought she’d killed her best friend. That’s not to mention the kind of life Helen has had, not knowing what really happened. And for what? So you could add another shiny trinket to your collection? Enough is enough!’

His father looked at him, with a mixture of scorn and regret. ‘Whose side are you on?’

‘My side,’ Jason replied. ‘And Helen’s and everyone else’s. One thing is for damn sure, it was never yours.’

He slipped the knife in his jacket pocket and brushed past a startled Ms Barclay on his way out. Behind her was Jones with the first aid box. He glowered at Jason but made no attempt to stop him.

Chewing her lip, Helen watched Jason go, convinced she’d lost him before they’d even had a chance to be together for real. He’d tried his best, and she’d pushed him away, as she always did with people.

He’d gone completely still when she’d told him what she saw, then shocked her with his savage outburst. She wasn’t sure what he planned to do, have it out with his father, she supposed. What happened after that was up to him. A witness had taken down part of the number plate, but Helen couldn’t bring herself to direct the attention towards Moody by mentioning her suspicions to the police. He was Jason’s father, and she wasn’t sure anyway. Just like she wasn’t sure of anything in relation to her mother.

Charlie returned from the cafeteria with a sandwich and a couple of Kit Kats.

‘Has Jase gone?’

Helen nodded.

‘Why? What happened?’ Charlie’s face twisted with concern.

‘I …’ she began, then stopped. She couldn’t tell Charlie about her suspicions either. She’d go mental and probably do something stupid. ‘Eh, nothing. He had to be somewhere. Didn’t tell me.’

Charlie seemed to accept that and handed her the sandwich and the chocolates. ‘You’d better eat before it goes cold.’

‘Sandwiches are cold,’ Helen pointed out.

‘Whatever. Just eat.’

‘And the chocolate will probably taste like sugar-coated dust bunnies.’

‘Why?’

‘Because of my medication.’

‘Really?’ Charlie sent her a curious look. ‘That must be pretty shitty sometimes.’

‘I’m used to it.’

While Helen ate as much as she could, grateful for the rush of energy it gave her, Charlie asked the duty nurse when they could see Fay. The nurse promised to let them know as soon as Fay woke up, and she sat down again.

A woman came through the double doors. It took a moment for Helen to register that it was Ruth. She abandoned the remains of her sandwich and got up to meet her.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Is your friend okay? I went to your house, and a very nice young man with a stutter told me what had happened.’

‘There’s a good chance she will be,’ said Helen.

‘Oh, good, I’m so glad to hear that.’ Ruth glanced at Charlie, who stared back, then said, ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’

‘Charlie?’

‘I’ll find you if they call us.’

They made their way through the labyrinthine hospital to the front. Outside was a small landscaped area with a fountain and some benches, and they chose a bench at the far end, away from people talking on their mobiles.

‘What did you want to see me about?’ Helen asked.

‘The funeral arrangements. For Mother.’

‘God, my friend nearly died, and you want to talk about funeral arrangements. Ever heard the phrase “bad timing”?’

‘I’m … I’m sorry. Perhaps you’re right. We’ll do it another time.’ She clasped her handbag and got up to leave.

Helen pulled her down again. ‘It’s fine. We might as well talk now that you’re here.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘It’ll take my mind off things.’ And not just Fay lying injured upstairs.

Ruth smiled, a timid, quick smile which made her look younger, pretty even. ‘Good, because I’d really appreciate your input.’

‘Has Aggie specified anything? Was she religious? I think we should go by her wishes if she had any.’

‘Yes, of course. You’re quite right.’ Ruth fell silent and stared straight ahead, at the trickling fountain, her fingers worrying the clasp of her handbag. Helen had a sudden insight.

‘You didn’t come to talk about the funeral, did you?’

Ruth shook her head.

‘Then what is it?’

‘I’ve spoken to Mother’s solicitor. That chap, Sweetman. He … well, suspects something is going on with the company, something not … right.’

‘Oh, he’s right about that.’

‘You
know
?’

‘A little,’ Helen replied. She wondered whether Ruth knew just how bad things were. Or potentially how dangerous. If Moody had no compunctions about running people over, what would he do to her aunt if she started digging? Ruth and Letitia were more or less the only family Helen had left.

‘I’ve taken a back seat for years,’ Ruth went on. ‘I’m regretting that now. I wish to be part of it again, and I think it’s time I reined in my sister a bit, stop her from ruining our reputation. You get Mother’s shares, and if you’re anything like your own mother, that’d be all that matters. She was very passionate about the company.’

‘I care about it too. But I’ve learned something my mother didn’t, that some things are far more important. Things like trust and friendship. A home.’

‘That’s true. I wish …’ Ruth’s lips trembled briefly. ‘Well, never mind that now. I need you on my side if I’m going to take a more active role in the company. With our shares between us we can make it happen.’

‘I
am
on your side. At least I was until Fay was run over. It was deliberate, and it’s possible they were after me.’

Ruth paled. ‘You don’t think I had anything to do with that?’

‘Of course not. I had another candidate in mind.’

‘Who?’

‘One of the shareholders. Moody. You mentioned him yesterday.’

‘Moody?’ Ruth raised her eyebrows. ‘If you die, and have no named beneficiaries in your will, then according to the Ransome’s memorandum of association Letitia and I will get first invitation to buy your stake in the company. Neither of us are poor by any means, but we can’t afford to buy the lot. Moody can.’