Death by Indulgence Page 13

  24

  The Thursday after Christmas

  Val looked dreadful. Her skin was more sallow than usual and, as she sat down opposite her in the café by the station, Ella immediately noticed a slight yellowish tinge to the whites of her boss’s eyes. Jaundice.

  ‘Jesus, Val, your liver must be in a shocking state.’

  ‘I have an obstructed bile duct. Gallstones, if you must know. They operate tomorrow if it’s not cancelled again. Either way, this had better be important, young lady, because I’m in pain and I feel like a pile of warm shit. What is so fucking urgent that you and Mal have dragged me out of my pit?’

  Ella didn’t have time to answer; Val’s new girlfriend strutted towards the table, order pad in one hand pulling a pen from her hair with the other. She was scowling at Ella. ‘What d’ya want?’

  ‘Good morning…’ Ella left a pause hoping that the girl would finally disclose her name.

  ‘Her name is Saskia,’ Val volunteered.

  ‘Is it?’ Ella whispered. She cupped her hands to avoid being overheard. ‘She doesn’t look much like a Saskia. Slightly lacking the sass if you ask me.’

  ‘Nobody did. Now answer the girl.’

  The waitress had reached the edge of the table.

  ‘Hi, Saskia. I’d love a mug of hot chocolate, whipped cream on top and could I have some extra sugar in it today?’

  The sulky waitress aimed her pen at a glass sugar dispenser. ‘Sugar’s there. Anyfing else?’

  ‘A smile?’

  Saskia sneered. ‘I’ll bring your drink.’

  Ella watched as the ghostly girl approached an ancient coffee machine behind the counter; the sort used in Italian restaurants the world over. Having poured milk into a metal jug she placed it beneath a steam jet pipe and waited for the noise to subside before removing it. She took a mug from a shelf and placed it on a battered metal tea tray. Once she had produced a frothing hot chocolate, she squirted cream from a white pressurised canister and carelessly shook a flour sifter over the top, dusting the creation with fine chocolate powder. Order complete, Saskia made her way back to the table where Val and Ella sat in silence while the waitress unceremoniously slid the tray in front of Ella. Saskia took time to stop and place one hand on Val’s shoulder. A twisted smile appeared as she then released it and walked away.

  ‘Touching,’ Ella said with sickly sarcasm.

  Val shot her a warning glare. ‘Mind your own bloody business. Now start blabbing. What is this about? What happened last night?’

  After taking in a deep breath Ella tried to explain. ‘I’ve screwed up. Not a bit. A lot. I have committed a huge monstrous cock-up to put all other cock-ups in the shade and Mal will probably wash his hands of the whole thing.’ Ella was gabbling, and to stop her hands from shaking she clasped the handbag perched on her knees as if it were a shield to protect her from the wrath she was bound to encounter.

  Val didn’t disappoint. ‘Before I rip your pretty head off and shit down your neck, you tell me what happened. Exactly what happened.’ The grating of Val’s voice had a ruthless edge to it, a prediction of more vicious tongue-lashings to come.

  Ella listed the chronology of events leading up to the moment when she lifted her blindfold to see Harry Drysdale. In doing so she noticed that her clutch bag was not on the table where she had left it.

  ‘I was pathetic. The first thing I did was to ask where my bag had been moved to. It was on the floor as if someone had knocked it off the table. This made him horribly suspicious, and he demanded to know why I was so worried about it. He examined the contents as he put them back in the bag, but as there was nothing of interest, in the end, he seemed to accept that I was some sort of irritating neurotic type. I wondered whether that was an act for the benefit of Trudy and Leonora. He didn’t want them to know what was going on, so before he sat me down to answer his questions he sent them into the bathroom to dress, after which he sent them packing. You should have seen the looks they gave me; as if I were an unpleasant smell.’ Ella screwed up her face. ‘Once they’d left, Mr D asked me loads of questions, quizzing everything I said. It wasn’t so much an interrogation, he… mind-raped me.’

  Val put down the coffee cup she was holding. It clattered onto the Formica table. ‘He did what?’

  ‘He’s a barrister, so he did his lawyer thing and questioned me over and over about why I was working at Buxham’s. He asked about my past employment and then about the notebook he’d seen in my handbag the previous week.’

  A look of utter disbelief crossed Val’s already tortured face. ‘What fucking notebook?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘You idiotic, moronic, half-wit, doorknob, fucking little twat-face. You made notes? Written notes?’

  Ella had nowhere to hide her inadequacy. ‘Yes, but it’s not as bad as it sounds.’

  As Val’s hand slapped down on the table, the resounding thwack made Ella jump and hold on tighter to the bag in her lap. An old man in a grubby beige trench coat turned from the newspaper he was reading to check where the noise had come from, and Emo-waitress, the permanently petulant Saskia, emerged from behind the counter. Val waved her away before holding two fists up to her own chin like a boxer would and she hissed her response through gritted teeth.

  ‘Not as bad as it sounds! You may have screwed up months of work. Where the hell does this leave us?’

  ‘In a different position, that’s all. There’s a possibility that a complete disaster can be averted.’

  ‘Oh yes? You honestly think so?’ Despair had replaced the anger in Val’s demeanour. She held her palms to her face as Ella continued to dig herself out of trouble.

  ‘When he tipped out the remaining contents of my clutch bag, the torch, the camera torch, wasn’t there. It must have rolled out. So you see it’s not as bad as you think. He never found anything incriminating. Nothing. I’ve asked housekeeping to look for it.’

  ‘And that’s good news, how? You were supposed to supply me with evidence of what exactly Marcus Carver and his side-kick lawyer get up to. But for some bizarre reason you decide to reveal yourself as a tu’penny ha’penny snoop after a cheap thrill. If you were party to a pathetic nude romp for the sake of art then why in God’s name did you feel it necessary to film anything? Why?’

  Ella bit her bottom lip as she replied. ‘I was acting in anticipation that it might be something more substantive. More lascivious.’

  A series of hacking coughs prevented Val from speaking again for several seconds. ‘Are you quite mad? You don’t understand. If he’s sussed you out then we are as good as finished. Next week is our deadline. I can’t afford to drag it out any longer than that.’ She blinked twice as if desperate to reason her way through the problem.

  ‘Look Val, I know I’ve been an idiot and I’m out of my depth but it’s all a bit odd. I mean, Marcus may be a sex pest but his lawyer just draws or takes pictures of oversized, beautiful women and occasionally has a bit of hanky-panky with them, from what I know. Where is the big deal?’

  Val bent over and groaned. ‘Oh Christ! This hurts.’ She pressed against her lower right abdomen, huffing. ‘Ella, ask Saskia to call me a cab, I need to go home and dose myself up with everything I can lay my hands on.’ She stared up at Ella. ‘You have no bloody choice other than to carry on. We need to know what Marcus-bloody-Carver gets up to otherwise... if it gets risky then—’

  ‘I know, kick him in the nuts and cry rape.’ Ella was getting up from the table when Val grabbed her arm and there was uneasiness about the way she asked her next question.

  ‘How much does he know about me?’

  ‘Mr D? About you? Nothing. I kept to the same details as on my CV, the one you invented for me. It’s not too wide of the truth but he’s not an idiot. If he chose to he could have me checked out and the flaws would soon show. Having said that, he appeared to accept what I told him as being legitimate. It seemed to help.’

  ‘Oh you’d love to think so, but I doubt it,’ Val snarled. ‘Now get Sas
kia for me and piss off. Keep me informed by text and don’t do anything else stupid.’ Val was talking in short bursts, wincing with pain if she drew too deep a breath.

  Saskia did as she was asked and called a mini-cab before hurrying to Val’s side. Watching them together, Ella was taken aback at the show of affection between the two women and felt an unexpected pang of guilt for being so harsh towards Saskia that morning.

  25

  Moments later

  Turning the corner of the avenue leading back to Buxham’s driveway, with her head full of thoughts, Ella almost ran into two women in long overcoats barring her way. One wore a navy blue full-length wool coat topped off with a red beret, and the other, a camel coat matched with a knitted beige beany hat pulled over long straight dark hair. They took up most of the pavement, leaving Ella no choice other than to step into the road. It was only when the woman in the woolly hat took hold of her elbow, did Ella realise who it was she was trying to avoid.

  ‘Leonora? What are you doing here?’ She took a better look at the shorter of the two ladies, the one in the classic blue overcoat. ‘Trudy? Is something wrong?’

  There was hardly any need to have asked that question. Both women had their chins jutted forward and Leonora’s nostrils flared as she breathed out her undisguised anger. ‘Walk with us a while,’ she said, her voice deep and doom-laden. ‘We have matters to discuss with you in private.’ Ella found herself being frogmarched between them, back in the direction she had come from, but before reaching the railway station the trio made a left turn. Through the grey of the winter morning the lights of MacDonald’s beckoned, and sure enough Ella was directed to sit at a table in the corner with Trudy, while Leonora ordered drinks and muffins.

  With steamed-up windows and a noise level to rival a departure lounge at an international airport during silly season, the place was heaving. Parties of exhausted parents and their irritable offspring took up almost every seat. Some families were accompanied by pasty-looking grandparents at the end of their polite patience. At other tables were groups of foul-mouthed youths escaping the niceties of spending the festive season incarcerated with ancient relatives and overbearing adults.

  To any onlooker, Ella, Leonora and Trudy were just three overweight ladies having a morning coffee together. At the table, however, Ella was feeling decidedly apprehensive. Trudy reached into her handbag and when she produced the camera torch that Ella had lost the previous evening, the nerves became worse. She wasn’t certain how to react and her words came hesitantly.

  ‘Oh, brilliant. You found my torch.’

  Trudy gave a half-smile, the sort that never reaches the eyes, and pressed the button causing the torch to shine at Ella. ‘Yes. A nice little torch with five LED bulbs.’ She switched it off again, holding Ella’s gaze. ‘But what, we have to ask ourselves, is the pinhole for? The one in the middle of the ring of LED bulbs.’ The long glittery fingernail of Trudy’s left index finger revealed a minute hole in the centre of the torch head.

  ‘Well … I …’ Ella had no answer to give, and she noticed that Trudy’s slight lisp, previously so appealing, had disappeared. The woman had looked so angelic until that moment and now she harboured a dark menace that Ella couldn’t understand.

  Leonora returned laden with warm drinks and a selection of muffins, which she placed in the centre of the table. ‘Leo, would you credit it, our chatty flirt of a hostess doesn’t have an answer to my question about this most unusual torch, or is it a torch?’ Trudy said. ‘Isn’t that peculiar? She normally won’t shut up. A most endearing quality being friendly, isn’t it? She gets a job at Buxham’s and within a matter of weeks she lands an invite to Mr D’s room for a nude drawing session. Then yesterday he asks her to stay for dessert and we see this poking out of her clutch bag.’ Trudy’s voice had suddenly developed a caustic quality. ‘You are some fucking stupid amateur.’ She shook her head, tutting as Leonora took the torch from her and played with the buttons.

  ‘If we hadn’t distracted him and rescued this from your bag, then you would have been caught, and that is a major problem for us. Do you understand, little girl?’ Leonora’s tone was low, threatening.

  ‘No. I don’t understand. Are you the police?’ Ella asked. The two women who had been so friendly and inclusive only the previous day, had for some reason become intimidating.

  ‘Oh, you really are stupid. No we’re not plod, far from it in fact. Now tell us who you are, what you are up to and what Mr D spoke to you about once we’d left last night. Everything. Don’t leave a single thing out,’ Leonora said, her gravelly voice vibrating the air.

  Ella wasn’t prepared for this confrontation and she floundered. ‘Why should I? What’s it to you?’

  ‘If you don’t, then we hand the torch to Mr D and any deal is off.’

  ‘What deal?’

  ‘That depends on your level of cooperation. Now start filling in the gaps.’

  ‘Umm, I work for an employment agency. I’m covering maternity leave for up to twelve months… I think and—’

  ‘Pull the other one, sweetie,’ Trudy said, spikily. ‘We’ve just watched you have an awkward conversation with a woman in the café by the station. Confessing to your appalling lack of professionalism were you?’

  The astonishment on Ella’s face seemed to strike Leonora as amusing. She laughed bitterly. ‘What? Uncomfortable are we? How about you furnish us with the truth before we make life incredibly distressing for you?’

  Ella visibly shrank. ‘What do you know about Val?’ The words had spilled forth before Ella had reviewed their weight, before she registered that, by saying them, her interrogators would have a name.

  ‘Val? What do we know about Val? Well now, let’s see …’ Trudy spoke with a whine. ‘Could it be that Leo also saw you when you met up with her last week in the same greasy spoon cafe by the station?’

  The barbed words continued as Leonora spoke, taking over from Trudy, steepling her fingers and putting her long gleaming talons on show, outstaring Ella. She was forced to look away within seconds of meeting her eye.

  Leonora scoffed. ‘And could it be that I had a little chat with the daughter of darkness, the slip of a thing that passes for a waitress?’

  Seeing Ella’s shoulders sag, Leonora pressed home the facts. ‘The sour little cow managed a whole conversation. I know it’s hard to believe, isn’t it? But she did.’

  Leonora reached for an apple and cinnamon muffin and passed it unceremoniously to her colleague. ‘Once I had Val’s full name and the name of her business, then the rest of the puzzle was rather easy to solve. I don’t know who wants you to take incriminating pictures of our most generous client but that’s not our business. Unfortunately for you this discovery that you are some sort of investigator creates a significant problem for us.’

  ‘Are you going to report me?’

  Trudy almost spat out the mouthful of muffin she was about to swallow. There was a pause while she chewed and gathered herself, holding one hand in the air, giving notice of her intention to pass comment. A final gulp preceded a lick of the lips and a long exhalation. ‘Your lack of intelligence beggar’s belief, child. Think about it. If we report you, then we are implicated in spying on our own customers. If we report you then, the club has to inform Mr D of a major security breach. If we report you we lose our lucrative income stream and you lose your job - both of them.’

  ‘Then what is it you expect me to do?’

  Ella could feel both sets of eyes scrutinising her every move, her choice of words and each inflection in her voice.

  ‘We expect you to do precisely what we tell you.’

  ‘How can I do that?’

  ‘Act and behave like a hostess. Keep to the rules of the club and stay out of our way until we say otherwise. We don’t know quite what you and your undernourished boss are up to but you’ll have to think of something else. We suggest you plan to hand your notice in. Nothing too sudden. Don’t draw attention to yourself, just give a week
’s notice and leave quietly.’

  Turning to the window, Ella watched as large drops of rain began to fall onto the already damp tarmac of the car park. She could feel the burning in her eyes and the tightening of her throat as her own tears of anger threatened to tumble.

  Despite the cacophony in MacDonald’s and the ear-piercing screams of the snotty infant three tables away, endless possibilities raced through Ella’s mind. At the forefront of her concerns were the threats and inconsistencies she had been presented with. Would Val have been sloppy enough to have talked with Saskia about their plans for Harry Drysdale and Marcus Carver? Ella thought not. Unable to drag her eyes away from the rain now falling in an unforgiving torrent, she ignored the farewells from the two fat ladies of table eighty-eight.

  ‘Merry Christmas, kid,’ Trudy hissed as she stood to tie the belt of her overcoat.

  ‘Yeah, and a happy New Year. See you on Wednesday and remember your future is in our hands and so is the SD card in here.’ Leonora balanced Ella’s black torch in one hand, flipped it into the air and caught it again before thrusting it into her coat pocket. Her wide grin was as ominous as the dark rainclouds outside.

  26

  The Wednesday after Christmas

  Marcus Carver used exhaustion as his reason to leave the fireside conversation and head to the bedroom in Lydia’s parents’ sprawling old Victorian town house. ‘Please forgive me. I’m sure I’ll be more sociable once I’ve caught up on a good night’s sleep. We both will.’

  His in-laws, Roger and Janette Limberg, exchanged worried glances but once he again declined their offer of a second nightcap and they bade him goodnight as he reversed through the living room doorway. The children had been put to bed hours previously, leaving him and Lydia to make a convincing show of their marriage to the most critical of audiences, and Lydia wasn’t feeling well. She had dashed to the bathroom leaving him to fend off their probing questions.