The Summer Without You (39 page)

Florence shook her head. ‘For the drive. My driveway runs along the bottom of their backyard, meaning they don’t have beach access. Historically, their lot was part of my property,
but it was sold off years ago – probably a previous owner needed the money. I offered to cut down the hedges to improve their ocean view, but . . .’

‘The house is worth more with direct beach frontage.’

‘About five million dollars more.’

Ro’s mouth dropped open into a silent ‘O’. ‘But, Florence . . .’ she puffed, trying to make sense of everything she was hearing. ‘You nearly
died
! You
were very nearly killed! Surely they wouldn’t go to those lengths just for five million.’

‘An
extra
five million. The house itself is already worth twenty-five million dollars.’

‘Even so. I know it’s a lot of money, but surely—’

‘People have killed for a lot less.’

There was a pause.

‘Well, have you met the people next door? Had any face-to-face contact? I mean, who the hell are they?’

‘The house is still empty. It’s been bought by a company, not a family.’

Ro frowned so hard she thought she could feel her eye-brows touch. ‘So then you have to tell the police.’

‘I tried. They think I’m a paranoid, confused old woman. When I told them I had been the intended target at the cafe, one of them even suggested I was just looking for
attention.’

‘Because the coffee hit me and not you?’

‘Yes.’

Ro felt her annoyance grow. ‘But what about the bribes? Surely they had to take account of those?’

‘As they told me – very patiently and like I was deaf – there’s no law against sending someone a necklace. And stupidly I didn’t think to keep the gift from the
dog.’ The corners of her mouth turned up fractionally. ‘Besides, I didn’t keep the necklace – I sent it back. There’s no proof now I even received it, much less that
it was a bribe.’

‘Then
I’ll
tell them. I was a witness. I was with you when it came.’

‘I appreciate it, Ro, but I can assure you it’ll be falling on deaf ears. They’re not interested. As far as they’re concerned, what happened to you had nothing to do with
what happened to me.’

Her hands gripped each other tightly and Ro watched the blue veins bulge slowly.

‘What else do you know about the company that’s bought next door?’

Florence sighed, looking exhausted, and Ro worried that this was too much for her, that she was pushing too hard. ‘Only that it’s called SB Holdings Ltd. They’re registered
offshore in Bermuda and therefore untraceable. There’s no way of finding out the people involved behind that name.’

Ro slumped, prickles of fear running up her back. If this nameless, faceless organization wanted Florence out, they had already proved they had the resources, contacts and appetite to keep going
until they achieved their aim. The man on the boardwalk suddenly came back into her mind as it occurred to her: had he been the one to cut the wire to the pool house? And how many others were there
out there like him? ‘So then what are you going to do? You can’t go back to the house if these people are invisible and remain at large. They’re dangerous, Florence.’

‘I know. Ted wants me to sell.’

‘Ted?’ Ro’s voice rose an octave. ‘Ted Connor?’

‘You remember, he—’

‘Yes, yes, I know Ted. But why would
he
be advising you to sell your home?’ she asked in alarm, wondering why he was becoming so closely involved not only with
Florence’s well-being but also, now, her financial interests. If Ted was positioning himself in Florence’s life to the degree that he could dictate the disposal of her (very
considerable assets), what else was he persuading her to do?

Florence seemed to read the suspicions clouding her face. ‘He has my best interests at heart, Ro. If it wasn’t for him finding me in the shower and calling for help, I wouldn’t
even be sitting here now.’

The alarm bell began clanging even more loudly, as she remembered seeing him walking into the hospital the day of Florence’s accident. He seemed to be around her almost all the time.
‘So Ted was with you when the . . . the accident happened?’ She did her best to keep her voice and face neutral, but she felt a growing unease in the pit of her stomach.

‘He was in the main house. He saved my life, Ro.’

Ro nodded but didn’t reply. Ted had been – at a safe distance – in the house when Florence had been electrocuted, just as he’d been – at a safe distance – in
the cafe when Ro had been scalded. Was that just coincidence? Or something more?

She looked back at Florence with a vague smile. ‘Listen, don’t rush into any decisions just yet. You’re safe here and the police will be running their own lines of enquiry.
Remember, they’ve got access to resources you don’t. You never know, they could have it all wrapped up by the time you come out.’

‘I know you don’t think that.’

Ro smiled, busted. ‘No. But at the very least the people doing this may be frightened off now that the police are involved. Then you wouldn’t have to sell.’

A silent tear crept down Florence’s face. ‘I don’t want to do it, but people are at risk. Not just me.’ She looked back at her. ‘You’ve been hurt already. And
Ted said . . . he said, what if next time it was my grandchildren?’

Ro sat back, frightened by the thought of young children becoming entangled in this nightmare, but even more shocked that Ted Connor was prepared to use Florence’s own grandchildren to
manipulate her emotionally like that.

‘Do you see? I can’t take the risk. I can’t,’ Florence quaked, shaking her head, her discoloured hands gripping the armrests of the chair.

Ro nodded. ‘I understand. I do,’ she said quietly, one hand resting gently on Florence’s arm, almost hovering above it. And she did. She knew Florence doted on her
grandchildren; she wouldn’t take any risks where they were concerned. She remembered that morning by the pool when she’d spoken about her happy family life in the house and the legacy
she’d wanted it to leave for her grandchildren in turn.

But someone was trying to stop her, someone Florence thought was hiding behind a paper trail. It didn’t seem to occur to her that there was one person who was linked to everything that had
happened so far, who seemed far too good to be true. But he had a face and he had a name, and Florence wasn’t the only one who knew it.

‘Do you think I should say anything? To the police, I mean?’ Ro asked, shadowing Melodie round the studio as she lit the oil burners.

Melodie looked back at Ro, who was wringing her still-pink hands. ‘It’s a tough call, Ro. I mean, do you
really
think this guy would be capable of something like that?
You’re talking attempted murder. That’s as serious as it gets. He didn’t look like a murderer to me.’

‘No? What does a murderer look like?’

Melodie smiled, amused. ‘Touché.’

‘Oh God.’ Ro grimaced, as though she was actually in pain. ‘I know it sounds so ridiculous when I say it out loud. Most of the time he’s tender and caring and really
funny—’ She clocked Melodie’s arched eyebrow. ‘I’m referring to his behaviour on the home videos!’

‘Oh.’ Melodie continued round to the next window. ‘Well, for what it’s worth, he didn’t strike me as the aggressive type, that day he turned up here. You were the
one I heard shouting, not him.’

‘Yes, but you see, you wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him on the beach on my first day. He was livid, properly out-of-control furious then. When I think of him like that, I
think maybe he
could
be capable of violence. And no matter what I may think about him, when you get down to the nuts and bolts of who, what and where, he is always there, always involved,
right at the heart of it.’ She thought about Florence’s condition when she’d visited her in ICU in the hospital – discoloured, fried, shrivelled. If someone was responsible
for it, they had to be held to account. ‘I mean, that’s just too much of a coincidence, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose it is a little weird. But still . . .
attempted murder
?’ Melodie shook her head, leading them both back to the mats. ‘All I can say is that if you’re
going to go to the police with your suspicions, you need to be certain. If he gets wind of what you’re accusing him of, you could find yourself on the wrong side of a slander case. You have
to be absolutely sure before you go down that path.’

Moments from the home films flashed through Ro’s mind: Ted sleeping beside Ella after reading her bedtime story, the look on his face (visible only from the reflection in the mirror) as
he’d shown Marina into the white roses-bedecked dining room at their apartment the night of their seventh wedding anniversary, the attempt he’d made at being ‘artistic’
filming Marina and Ella’s shadows in profile on the ground as they walked through Central Park – Marina’s pregnant silhouette caught by the wind, Ella’s arm upstretched,
their hands clasped . . .

She sat down in a cross-legged pose and sighed heavily, confused and anxious. She just couldn’t get a handle on him. What she saw in the videos – a devoted husband and father –
wasn’t what she saw in real life: single man with a trophy girlfriend and a dangerous temper.

‘I just don’t know what to do,’ Ro moaned, holding her feet together and jigging her thighs up and down, more in agitation than relaxation.

‘Then I’d suggest you hold fire. Keep a close eye on him by all means, but you’ve got to remember there are plenty of other people who have a grudge against Florence . . .
Namaste,’ Melodie smiled, nodding to some regulars who were padding barefoot through the door now.

‘What? Like who? Why?’ Ro whispered.

Melodie looked surprised by Ro’s question. ‘Well, I don’t think I’m revealing any secrets in saying that Florence has made many enemies over the years. She heads up the
Town Board; she’s sat on numerous citizens’ committees . . . She’s directly helped to shape and enforce a lot of our local laws, and many people resent her for it.’

‘Such as?’ Ro pressed, wanting names, identities, flesh-and-blood people that could be held to account.

Melodie shrugged. ‘Such as . . .’ She thought for a second. ‘Well, Brook said there was a heated argument at the Zoning Appeals Board just the other week. A couple over in
Gardiner’s Bay applied to build a bulkhead to protect their property – as I understand it, they actually
have
water on the land now, but their plans were rejected because town
policy is strategic retreat. So their home will effectively be washed away in the next northeaster.’

‘That’s dreadful.’

‘Yes and no. They knew town policy when they bought the property a few years ago. Apparently, there’s another abandoned house, on stilts, actually ten feet out from the shore now, so
none of this can be a surprise to them.’

‘But what would that have to do with Florence?’

‘Because she chaired the LWRP that brought in strategic retreat and now she’s the head honcho on the Town Board, enforcing her own recommendations in the report. She’s the town
figurehead; it’s her name on the rejection documents. To a lot of people, she’s public enemy number one.’

‘Making her an easy target,’ Ro murmured, remembering how she and Florence had been examining the Legacy poster – her latest campaign initiative – when the first attack
had happened. Ro fell silent. It seemed hard to reconcile this impression of a divisive public figure with her passionate, articulate friend who applied herself selflessly to her town and family.
‘And does everyone know all this about her?’

‘Well, it’s not a secret, although I suppose I’m privy to more than most because of Brook being on the Coastal Erosion Committee in Montauk. He’s always butting heads
with her over something. He loses a lot of sleep thanks to her.’

There was a bitter edge to her words and Ro remembered the fractious note in Melodie’s voice the night of the dinner party when Florence’s name had come up.

‘Look, I know she’s your friend and . . .’ Melodie reached for the right words. ‘Just because she and Brook don’t see eye to eye, it doesn’t mean I
don’t see the goodwill behind her intentions. But she’s a seasoned politician, Ro. She knows how to win votes and influence people.’

Ro frowned. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying that you shouldn’t rush to get too close to her, that’s all. Things may not be what they appear with her. Florence’s track record has been . . . erratic
lately. She’s never far from a scandal, it seems.’

‘So you’re saying you think what happened to her is her fault? That she somehow asked for all this?’ The anger made Ro’s voice quiver and Melodie shrank back a little,
her eyes flitting to the other class members stretching on their mats or meditating.

‘No. I . . . I’m obviously not explaining myself very well. I just mean you’re in a vulnerable place right now, Ro. You’re trying to set down roots and find your way. I
can see how Florence could be an attractive . . . mother figure to you, perhaps. It’s understandable. But she’s not a dear, sweet thing, and you’d be foolish to place all your
trust in her without knowing her better.’

Ro and Melodie exchanged loaded looks. This was their first disagreement and Ro felt distinctly patronized.

A man in 1970s green running shorts that curved up to his hip bones and were going to be alarming during the child pose sat down on the mat next to her.

Melodie quickly changed the subject as the last stragglers padded into the room and mats were unfurled around them.

‘Is Bobbi going to come to any more classes?’ Melodie asked, new levity in her voice as she pressed each ear towards her neck in a stretch. ‘She’s very limber.’

‘I doubt it,’ Ro muttered. ‘She just had some time to kill before an important meeting.’ Ro knew she sounded truculent, but she couldn’t help it. How had they moved
from debating whether to report Ted Connor to the police to a character assassination on Florence?

‘I hope it went well?’

‘Yeah, she got the commission.’

‘And the guy?’

Ro met her eyes in surprise.

Melodie smiled, trying to tease her out of her sulk. ‘What? I overheard you both talking. You weren’t very quiet.’