Kane & Abel (1979) (18 page)

‘Of course we can, my dear. As I told you, I am here only to seek your advice.’

Alan ordered coffee, and took Anne’s hand gently in his. And do remember to take care of yourself, Anne. Your health is far more important than the fate of a few thousand dollars.’

When Anne returned home she started to worry about the other two letters she had received that morning. At least she was now certain of one thing after Alan Lloyd’s revelations about her son: it might be prudent to give in gracefully and let William spend the forthcoming vacation with Matthew Lester.

The possibility that Henry and Millie were having an affair raised a problem to which she was unable to come up with so simple a solution. She sat in the maroon leather chair, Richard’s favourite, looking out through the bay window onto a beautiful bed of red and white roses. She was lost in thought, seeing nothing. Anne always took some time to come to a decision, but once she had, she seldom changed her mind.

Henry came home earlier than usual that evening, and she couldn’t help wondering why. She soon found out.

‘I hear you had lunch with Alan Lloyd today,’ he said as he entered the room.

‘Who told you that, Henry?’

‘I have spies everywhere,’ he said, laughing.

‘Yes, Alan invited me to lunch. He wanted to know how I felt about allowing the bank to invest five hundred thousand dollars of William’s trust money in your company.’

‘What did you say?’ asked Henry, trying not to sound anxious.

‘I told him I would need to discuss the matter with you. But why in heaven’s name didn’t you let me know you’d approached the bank, Henry? I felt such a fool hearing about it from Alan for the first time.’

‘I didn’t think you took any interest in business, my dear. I only found out by sheer accident that you, Alan Lloyd and Millie Preston are all trustees, and that each of you has a vote on how William’s money should be invested.’

‘How did you find that out,’ asked Anne, ‘when I wasn’t aware of it myself ?’

‘You never read the small print, my darling. As a matter of fact, I didn’t myself until recently. Quite by chance, Millie told me the details of the trust. Not only is she William’s godmother, it seems she is also a trustee. Now, let’s see if we can turn the position to our advantage and make William even more money. Millie says she’ll back me if you agree.’

The mere sound of Millie’s name made Anne feel uneasy.

‘I don’t think we ought to touch William’s money,’ she said. ‘I’ve never looked upon the trust as having anything to do with me. I’d be much happier to leave well alone and let the bank continue to reinvest the interest as it’s done in the past.’

‘Why be satisfied with the bank’s investment programme when I’m on to such a winner with this city hospital contract? Surely Alan was able to confirm that?’

‘I’m not altogether certain how he felt. He was his usual discreet self, though he did say the contract would be an excellent one to win, and that you had a good chance of being awarded it.’

‘Exactly.’

‘But he added that he’d need to see your books before he came to any firm conclusion, and he also wondered what had happened to my five hundred thousand dollars.’

‘Our five hundred thousand, my darling, is doing very well, as you’ll soon discover. I’ll send the books around to Alan tomorrow morning so he can inspect them for himself. I can assure you, he’ll be impressed.’

‘I hope so, Henry, for both our sakes,’ said Anne. ‘Let’s wait and see what his opinion is - you know how much I’ve always trusted Alan.’

‘But not me,’ said Henry.

‘Oh, no, Henry, I didn’t mean—’

‘I was only teasing. I assume you trust your own husband.’

‘I would hope so,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ve never had to worry about money before, and it’s all too much to cope with right now. The baby makes me feel so tired and depressed.’

Henry’s manner changed quickly to one of concern. ‘I know, my darling, and I don’t want you ever to have to bother your head with business matters - I can always handle that side of things. Look, why don’t you go to bed early, and I’ll bring you some supper on a tray? That will give me a chance to go back to the office and pick up the files I need to send to Alan in the morning.’

Anne agreed, but once Henry had left she made no attempt to sleep, tired as she was, but sat up in bed reading. She knew it would take Henry about fifteen minutes to reach his office, so she waited twenty and then dialled his private line. The ringing tone continued for almost a minute.

Anne tried a second time twenty minutes later; still no one answered. She kept calling every twenty minutes, but no one came on the line. Henry’s remark about trust began to echo bitterly in her head.

When he eventually returned home a few minutes after midnight, he looked surprised to find Anne still awake.

‘You shouldn’t have stayed up for me.’

He gave her a warm kiss. Anne thought she could smell perfume - or was she becoming overly suspicious?

‘I had to stay on a little longer than I expected - at first I couldn’t find all the papers Alan will need. Damn silly secretary filed some of them under the wrong headings.’

‘It must be lonely sitting there in the office all on your own in the middle of the night,’ said Anne.

‘Oh, it’s not that bad if you have a worthwhile job to do,’ said Henry as he climbed into bed and took Anne in his arms. ‘At least there’s one thing to be said for it: you can get a lot more done when the phone isn’t continually interrupting you.’

Henry left for work straight after breakfast the following morning - not that Anne was sure where he went any longer. She turned the pages of a section of the
Boston Globe
she had never consulted before. There were several advertisements offering the services she required. She selected one almost at random, picked up the phone and made an appointment to see a Mr Ricardo at midday.

Anne was shocked by the dinginess of the streets and the forlorn state of the buildings. She had never previously visited the southern district of the city, and in normal circumstances she could have gone through her entire life without even knowing such places existed.

A small wooden staircase littered with matches, cigarette butts and other rubbish created its own paper chase to a door with a frosted window on which the name G
LEN
R
ICARDO
appeared in large black letters, and underneath:

Anne knocked softly.

‘Come right in, the door’s open,’ shouted a deep whiskey voice.

Anne entered. The man seated behind the desk, his legs stretched over its surface, glanced up. His cigar stub nearly fell out of his mouth when he caught sight of Anne. It was the first time a woman wearing a mink coat had ever walked into his office.

‘Good morning,’ he said, rising quickly. ‘I’m Glen Ricardo.’ He leaned across the desk and offered a nicotine-stained hand to Anne. She took it, glad to be wearing gloves. ‘Do you have an appointment?’ Ricardo asked, not that he cared whether she did or not. He was always available for a consultation with a mink coat.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Ah, then you must be Mrs Osborne. Can I take your coat?’

‘I prefer to keep it on,’ said Anne, eyeing a nail sticking out of the wall.

‘Of course, of course.’

Anne eyed Ricardo covertly as he sat back down and lit a new cigar. She did not care for his light green suit, his multi-coloured tie or his thickly greased hair. It was only the belief that it wouldn’t be better anywhere else that stopped her leaving.

‘Now, what’s the problem?’ said Ricardo, sharpening an already short pencil with a blunt knife. The shavings dropped everywhere except into the wastepaper basket. ‘Have you lost your dog, your jewellery or your husband?’

‘First, Mr Ricardo, I want to be assured of your complete discretion,’ Anne began.

‘Of course, of course, it goes without saying,’ said Ricardo, not looking up from his disappearing pencil.

‘Nevertheless, I am saying it,’ said Anne.

‘Of course, of course.’

Anne thought that if the man said ‘of course’ once more, she would scream. She drew a deep breath. ‘I have been receiving anonymous letters which allege that my husband has been having an affair with a close friend. I want to know who is sending the letters and if there is any truth in the allegations.’

She felt an immense sense of relief at having voiced her fears for the first time. Ricardo looked at her impassively, as if it was not the first time he had heard such sentiments expressed. He put a hand through his long black hair.

‘Right,’ he began. ‘The husband will be easy. Who’s responsible for sending the letters could be a lot harder. You’ve kept them, of course?’

‘Only the last one,’ said Anne.

Glen Ricardo sighed and wearily stretched his hand across the table. Anne reluctantly took the letter out of her bag and hesitated for a moment.

‘I know how you feel, Mrs Osborne, but I can’t do my job with one hand tied behind my back.’

‘Of course, Mr Ricardo. I’m sorry.’

Anne couldn’t believe she had said ‘of course’.

Ricardo read the letter through two or three times before speaking. ‘Have all of the letters been typed on the same paper and sent in this sort of envelope?’

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Anne. ‘As far as I can remember.’

‘Well, when the next one comes, be sure to—’

‘How can you be certain there will be another one?’ interrupted Anne.

‘There will be, believe me. So be sure to keep it. Now, I’ll need some details about your husband. Do you have a photograph?’

‘Yes.’ Once again she hesitated.

‘I don’t want to waste my time chasing the wrong man, do I, Mrs Osborne?’ said Ricardo.

Anne opened her bag again and passed him a worn photograph of Henry in a lieutenant’s uniform.

‘Good-looking man,’ said the detective. ‘When was this photograph taken?’

‘About five years ago, I think,’ said Anne. ‘I didn’t know him when he was in the army.’

Ricardo questioned Anne for several minutes on Henry’s daily routine. She was surprised to realize how little she knew about his lifestyle, and even less about his past.

‘Not a lot to go on, Mrs Osborne, but I’ll do the best I can. My charges are ten dollars a day plus expenses. I’ll give you a written report once a week. Two weeks’ payment in advance.’ His hand reached across the desk again, more eagerly than before.

Anne opened her handbag, took out two crisp $100 bills and passed them across to him. He studied them carefully. Benjamin Franklin gazed imperturbably at Ricardo, who obviously had not seen the great man for some time. Ricardo handed Anne $60 in grubby fives.

‘I see you work on Sundays, Mr Ricardo,’ said Anne, pleased with her mental arithmetic.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘After all, that’s the most common day for infidelity. Will the same time next week suit you, Mrs Osborne?’ he added, as he pocketed the money.

‘Of course,’ said Anne, and left quickly, so as to avoid having to shake hands with the man a second time.