Remember my name, p.22
Remember My Name, page 22
‘Did he see you?’
Brioni shrugged, shaking her head. ‘Not sure. He doesn’t know me. It’s his wife I know, she’s a friend of Marissa’s – my sister.’
‘Tell us what happened from when you arrived?’
Brioni shrugged. ‘I saw Alex on my way in. He looked as if he was waiting for someone. We have this thing – I’m his date buddy, I’m the one who arrives to rescue him when they go wrong.’ She paused. ‘He broke up with the girl he’s been dating since school about six months ago. He’s knocking some craic out of Tinder but he’s really bad at making matches. We hang out at the Reynolds a lot, so when I saw him, I guessed that’s what he was up to. I didn’t want to cramp his style, so I left him to it and went into the bar to order some food, then I got caught up reading something on my phone. The next thing I realised it was getting late and I really needed the loo, so I decided to make a move.’
The female guard took over. ‘Did you speak to your friend’s husband?’
Brioni shook her head. ‘Like I said, I don’t know him personally. He’s Laurence Howard, he owns the hotel. He was talking to this guy in a suit by then, it looked as if he was having a meeting, so I thought I’d leave it.’
‘But you said hello to Alex?’
‘When I came out of the loo, he was coming out of the lift.’
Brioni felt the male guard looking at her hard.
‘Who saw you in the bar?’
Brioni opened her eyes wide and shrugged. ‘The staff? I used my credit card for the food.’
The female guard pulled out a sheet of A4 paper, folded down the centre so it would fit in her inside pocket. She passed it to Brioni.
‘Can you tell us if you recognise any of these women?’
The printout was a panel of passport-sized photographs, twelve of them in four rows.
Brioni scanned it. Nina was in the middle of the second row.
‘This one looks familiar.’ She screwed up her face. ‘She’s got long brown hair?’
Their faces were impassive. The female guard raised an eyebrow.
‘Have you seen her recently?’
Brioni took a moment to look as if she was thinking.
‘I’m pretty sure she was in the bar at the Reynolds. She came in for a few minutes to talk to my friend’s husband – she gave out shite to him. I couldn’t hear what she said but she was pretty cross. Then she left.’
‘Do you know her name?’
‘No idea, sorry.’ Brioni shrugged. ‘Who is she?’
The female guard’s face was impassive. ‘We can’t tell you who any of the women in the pictures are. But you’re sure you’ve seen the woman in the second row, and you last saw her talking to your friend’s husband – Laurence Howard – in the Reynolds Regency House?’
‘Yes, I think so. She’s very striking. I think I would have remembered if I’d seen her anywhere else. She must be on the hotel CCTV?’
Brioni looked at the two guards, seeing a glimmer of reaction in the eyes of the female guard, but they weren’t giving anything away.
Chapter 47
CRESSIDA WAS SITTING in front of the fire in the living room when Laurence finally came home. She was watching the embers dying, legs crossed, her foot tapping. It was almost midnight. She threw on another log.
Emily-Jane had gone to bed. The guards’ visit had upset her and it had taken Cressida a long time to calm her after they left. They’d sat on the sofa and Cressida had hugged her, reassuring her that their lives weren’t at risk, that the attack on Ferryman wasn’t personal.
But even as she’d said it, she’d begun to wonder herself.
Was someone trying to destroy Laurence, or was this some complex scheme he’d come up with for some nefarious reason she wasn’t seeing? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d ‘sailed close to the wind’, as he called it. He’d always seen business strategy as some sort of Olympic sport, one you had to excel at, and not just beat but crush your opponents. He was the one who’d built the Howard Group into an international chain, getting the company into a position that meant when his brother Pierce originally came up with the idea for Ferryman, it had the capacity to invest.
There was a reason he was so successful – he was utterly driven, and his mission in life wasn’t to make more friends.
The crunch of tyres on the drive alerted Cressida to his arrival. She reached for her glass of wine, and took a slow, controlled sip. It was going to be really hard to talk to him calmly; she could feel her temper building, but losing it would weaken her. She knew what he was like – he exploited every tiny crack in an argument, and this was one she wanted to have the upper hand in.
He better have some answers for her this time.
As the front door closed and she heard his feet on the wooden boards of the hall, she called out, ‘I’m in here!’
He stuck his head around the living room door.
‘I thought you’d be in bed.’
At the sound of his voice, rage spontaneously flared inside, licking and spitting like the flames in the fireplace. But she needed to keep calm. She wanted him to feel he could open up to her. Staying where she was on the sofa, she looked over her shoulder at him, pausing to make sure she kept her voice level.
‘Em’s gone up. She was exhausted. The guards were here.’
He’d been about to withdraw his head, but as he caught the end of the sentence, he paled. Cressida turned to her glass of wine and took another sip. She had the bottle on the floor beside her. Her second bottle, in fact, but she was taking this glass slowly.
Behind her, she could feel he was hesitating. There was a frisson in the air, like electricity; his need to know what had been said, why the guards had called – she could imagine the questions were fighting for space in his head just like they were in hers.
Seeing that she wasn’t going to say more, he came into the room. She heard the door close. He walked around to the other end of the sofa and leaned on the grand piano.
As far away as he could get and still have a conversation.
‘What did they want?’
She turned to look at him. He had his hands in his trouser pockets, his jacket open. He was wearing the leather belt she’d bought him for Christmas.
There were so many things she could say, arrows she could throw, but she took a long slow breath.
‘They’re investigating what made Emily-Jane ill. Like the doctor said at the hospital, they think it’s the same thing – a poison – that caused Kate Spicer to collapse.’
‘They think or they know?’
Just like him to split hairs.
‘They’re the guards, Laurence, “think” is a figure of speech. They’ve analysed some flowers that were delivered to Kate and they believe – sorry, know – they were covered in a toxic substance that caused her to collapse. Some sort of venomous secretion from a toad.’
His eyes on the carpet, frowning, he rattled the change in his pocket.
‘But who sent them? The flowers, I mean?’
‘That is the question we’re all asking. Would you sit down instead of hovering? It’s very annoying.’
It took him a moment to think about it, but then he moved to the other sofa and sat down opposite her. Watching him, she paused for a second before speaking.
‘They think Em was poisoned by flowers as well. Although they were actually sent to me, Em was just the one who opened them.’
She had to give him credit for his acting ability. He looked startled for a moment and opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.
‘The flowers were from Blooming Fabulous. The order was placed from your account.’
‘But I didn’t send them.’ He at least had the dignity to look aghast. ‘How …? Did someone hack my account? Christ.’
He put his hands to his face, rubbing it and bringing his fingertips together in front of his mouth as if in prayer. Cressida shifted on the sofa, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward, deliberately trying to stay calm.
‘It’s not really the “who had access” thing that worries me, Laurence, it’s the “who had access and wanted to kill me” thing that is the issue. The toxin is lethal. Em hardly inhaled any, and although this Spicer woman did, she was apparently found quickly, otherwise things could have been very different.’
‘Her name’s Kate.’
‘I know. I also know you went to meet her at the 1796 to have a massage very early the same morning. But you’re fine.’ She fought to keep the note of sarcasm out of her voice. ‘The guards checked all the oils in the massage suite, nothing nasty there.’ She paused. ‘What intrigues me is what on earth you were doing there at that time in the morning. She must have come in specially, which leads me to wonder if that’s all you went in for?’
Cressida could tell from his empty face that he was thinking carefully. He really was a master at masking his emotions.
There was a long pause.
A long pause during which he focused on the glazed top of the coffee table, and the dancing light from the fire reflected there.
She leaned forward again. ‘I need some answers, Laurence.’
He ran his hands across his face.
‘I don’t know anything about poison. I didn’t send the flowers – obviously. I went in to get a massage as I had a big day.’ He paused. ‘I’m working on a big deal with SpeakEasy Telecom, I told you about them.’
He’d neatly skirted the issue of Kate completely. Cressida was so tempted to ask him about the jewellery, the Chanel dress, whether it was some sort of new uniform for staff, but she knew if she revealed that, he’d wonder where she’d got her information from.
‘But SpeakEasy haven’t been able to get a licence in the UK because of these data protection policies Em keeps talking about.’ He shrugged as she continued. ‘How much did he offer you to make this happen?’
Cressida could almost see the thoughts going through Laurence’s head as he weighed up how much he could tell her. Then he said it.
‘Ten million dollars if I could get it past the board. Cash payment, deposited in an offshore account.’
Her eyes on her glass, Cressida kept her face blank as the number bounced around inside her head.
‘And what do your fellow board members think of SpeakEasy joining the Ferryman portfolio?’
There was another long pause. Cressida watched him closely. A log shifted in the fireplace, sending a flurry of sparks up the chimney. Laurence put his hands on the coffee table, palms down, his fingers splayed, and took a deep breath. She cut in, before he could speak.
‘I think you need to tell me everything.’
He nodded slowly. ‘They weren’t keen.’
Cressida put her glass down carefully on the coffee table.
‘You didn’t share with them the possibility of splitting the ten million?’
He shook his head silently.
‘So …?’ She rolled her hands, encouraging him on with the story. How much was he going to reveal?
‘The reason I had the massage was because I needed to unwind. There was stuff happening. I had to set some meetings up for the next day to persuade them individually SpeakEasy were a good partner. It was very delicate.’
‘And did you?’ Cressida didn’t know how she was keeping her temper; she wanted to pick up the wine bottle and throw it at him. She felt as if she was speaking to a child. ‘Did you persuade them?’
‘Yes, pretty much. But then there was this data security attack and we all got distracted.’ He rubbed his face again.
‘Indeed.’ She paused. ‘I think there are a few more elements in this story though, don’t you?’ He looked up at her, surprised, as she continued. ‘The hacking seems to be very coincidental to a deal of this size happening. How do you know it’s not SpeakEasy who have orchestrated the attack? If they were prepared to pay ten million to work with you, wouldn’t it be much easier to find a way to compromise the company that would devalue it so much they could just buy you out?’ She tapped the base of her glass on her knee. ‘But that doesn’t explain the flowers, does it? I can understand someone who wants to attack you personally sending flowers to me – the whole world knows I’m your wife. But why the manager of the spas? What possible reason could someone have had to risk sending flowers to her, too – a random member of staff? I mean, doesn’t sending two bouquets double their chances of getting caught?’ Cressida injected just the right amount of incredulity into her statement. ‘It rather raises the question of what the connection could be between me and Kate Spicer?’
Laurence shrugged, as if he was at a loss. It was too much for Cressida and she suddenly snapped, her voice louder than she intended.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Laurence, I know you were having an affair with her. And not only do I know, but Nina Rodríguez, your other bit of skirt knew, too, didn’t she? Who else knew, Laurence? Who else? What other dirty little secrets are you hiding?’ Her voice had risen as she spoke, all regard for keeping this conversation calm and civilised, gone.
He looked directly at her. She had to give him full marks for keeping his face devoid of emotion under pressure. His voice was clear, raised slightly but still calm.
‘Nina’s not my bit of skirt. She doesn’t mean anything.’
‘But Kate Spicer does? How long has that been going on for? How long? Because someone else knows about it. And where the hell is Nina, by the way? She’s your data whizz-kid. Why isn’t she in the office, trying to find this leak?’
Laurence suddenly stood up. ‘I don’t know, all right? I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. I’m sure it’s not Ackroyd. I know it’s not, he’s on my side, we’ve got strategies in play that will make us all a lot of money.’ He sounded to Cressida as if he was trying to convince himself.
He went to the fireplace, leaning both hands on the mantelpiece, his back to her. His voice was low when he spoke.
‘You and Em are my world, you know that.’ He turned around to face her. ‘I’d never do anything to endanger you.’
‘It’s a bit late for that, Laurence, you already have. Someone has tried to kill me and …’ Cressida couldn’t bear to say her daughter’s name. ‘To kill me, Laurence. Hear that word. I think you’re putting too much trust in this Ackroyd character. There are some very questionable business practices in that country. It’s not the same as here.’
‘He’s solid, I keep telling you. He’s here next week, you can meet him, decide for yourself.’
‘Perfect. Invite him to dinner. Let’s see exactly what he’s like. Bring him here so there’s no danger your conversation will be overheard and we’ll find out exactly what’s going on, will we?’
‘Mum, can you two keep it down? I was trying to sleep.’
Cressida almost jumped physically. She hadn’t heard Emily-Jane’s feet on the stairs. Laurence spun towards the door, crossing the distance between the fireplace and Emily-Jane in a couple of strides.
‘Darling, I’m so sorry. We’re just both a bit stressed. How are you feeling?’
He tried to put his arms around her but she pushed him away.
‘I’m grand, Dad. Someone tried to kill Mum with some poisonous flowers but everything’s just grand.’
She turned and slammed the door behind her.
Chapter 48
‘YOU’VE A VISITOR.’ The nurse smiled conspiratorially as she came into Kate’s room and checked her blood pressure, deftly wrapping the cuff around her upper arm. She had an impish look in her eye. ‘A man. He’s waiting outside.’
Kate grinned, shaking her head. ‘It’s not what you think, Megan, I can assure you.’
Megan was only in her twenties, and since Kate had regained consciousness she had kept her regaled with the dramas of her love life. There were moments when Kate had felt the need to take notes.
‘Who is it, did he say?’ Kate smoothed her hair, mussed up from the pillow, hope bubbling inside her.
Had Laurence come back at last? She had a vague memory of him sitting beside her when she’d first been brought in, but she’d been so ill, she was starting to wonder if that was some sort of hallucination. He’d texted a few times to see how she was. Well, perhaps not a few times. Perhaps twice.
She knew it was hard for him to get away, that work was busy, but … but … Kate chided herself. They had an arrangement. A complicated arrangement. And whatever promises he’d made, Laurence needed to be careful.
He was so like his brother Pierce in so many ways. Outwardly, at least. When she looked at him sitting in her living room, his face lit by the fire, or in his office in the evening, the lights dimmed, he could almost be Pierce. It was their personalities that were so different. Laurence was the businessman, hard to the core. Pierce had been the ideas man, creative like she was, disorganised but with a mind that moved at warp speed when it homed in on something. They were two halves of the same coin in many ways, but Pierce’s definition of success had been different. Laurence was the one always pushing, always wanting to achieve. His favourite quote was Richard Branson’s ‘If your dreams don’t scare you they aren’t big enough.’
Kate’s dreams had been big once, but then she’d fallen in love. And love meant compromise. She sighed to herself and, conscious of Megan standing at the end of the bed, tried to keep the smile on her face as tears pricked at her eyes. Now when she thought of the happy times, they were all stolen moments. Beautiful moments, that had made beautiful memories, but stolen nonetheless.
Megan checked her watch and, jotting down the last of her notes, was clicking the top of her pen when the door opened, interrupting Kate’s thoughts. She pulled herself up in the bed, hoping she didn’t look too terrible. But as Megan took a step backwards and she got a clear view of the door, she realised it wasn’t Laurence at all.
‘Philip? What are you doing here? Don’t you have a holiday empire to run?’
Philip French grinned at her. ‘Came to see how you were doing. I was going to bring flowers but …’ He cocked an eyebrow at her and instead produced a huge box of chocolates from behind his back.
‘She really doesn’t want any more flowers.’ Megan looked at him meaningfully. ‘Right, I’ll be back shortly. Don’t overdo it, you’re still weak. No dancing.’
