She broke down at that point. Her voice fell away to a whisper and she sobbed quietly with her hands covering her face. She had slim, elegant hands. I took some tissues from a box on the desk, got up, took her hands away gently and gave her the tissues. She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. It was more ironic than she knew. They’d both been keeping the threats directed at the other to themselves.
‘Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m usually not. .’
‘It’s all right. When you’re ready I’ve got a question for you.’
She nodded, drew in a breath and made a fist around the tissues. ‘I’ll answer if I can.’
‘What kind of car does this man drive?’
She looked disappointed. ‘Car? I don’t know, something very expensive. Why?’
‘I think the person who killed Bobby was driving a white Commodore sedan.’
Her heavily lidded eyes opened wide. ‘Oh no, he didn’t mean he’d do it himself. He meant he’d have it done.’
9
I don’t think my jaw dropped, but I stared at her.
‘Who are we talking about?’
‘Michael Tennyson.’
‘You mean “ Media ” Michael Tennyson?’
‘Yes.’
Michael Tennyson was a merchant banker. He was big in conservative politics, big in the media, big in sports promotion and arts patronage. He was a flamboyant publicity-seeker who’d made all the right moves before the GFC and had escaped unscathed. There were rumours of criminal associations but there always are with high-profile types like Tennyson.
Jane explained that she’d worked as a freelance editor for several publishers and magazines before landing her present job. Tennyson was a part-owner of one of the publishers and they’d met at a gathering to launch a book Jane had helped to edit.
‘It was a gala affair,’ she said, ‘as everything Michael had to do with tended to be. All the glitterati were there. You wouldn’t think Michael would take any notice of me, but he did.’
Her face became animated as she spoke, perhaps recalling the heady days, perhaps from anger at what had happened. Her colour heightened and her eyes took on a strange intensity.
‘I can see why he would,’ I said.
‘Can you? Well, he did and he came on very strong. There were letters and flowers and phone calls and meetings and gifts. And sex. Lots of sex. As I said, I got tired of it and didn’t need it once I was working at something I loved, but Michael didn’t. He went on a business trip to the States. He said it was to get over me after I’d told him I wanted the affair to stop. I don’t think it was, not really. Overseas trips are just part of his normal agenda. He’d lie about anything to get what he wanted.’
‘You said he broke into your flat.’
‘I’m sorry, I was speaking loosely. I meant he had someone do it. Just as. .’
‘It’s a very hard thing to prove. Do you have any kind of evidence?’
She was composed again now, with her intelligence rather than emotion showing. ‘There’s a man who works for him. Michael told me he’d killed people before.’
‘And what’s his name?’
‘Alexander Mountjoy. I think he’s a very frightening individual.’
The name didn’t mean anything to me. ‘What does he look like?’
‘Big, bulky.’
‘With a beard?’
She touched her face. ‘Stubble. Michael used to boast about his criminal connections. I found it exciting. Briefly.’
Jane Devereaux put the crumpled tissues on the desk.
‘You look sceptical, Mr Hardy. I’m no femme fatale, I realise that. Michael Tennyson’s an attractive man in his way. He could have the pick of attractive women. He has a glamorous wife, of course. I just thought. . Robert spoke so highly of you on our last night. Perhaps I’m wasting my time. You think I’m a fantasist.’
‘No, it’s not that. Not at all. I’m trying to understand something else. I hope I’m not offending you, but you seem to be an extremely intelligent and well-qualified woman, and Bobby Forrest. .’
She smiled. ‘You thought he was dumb?’
‘No. . limited, perhaps, in comparison.’
‘Yes, I see. You have to understand that Robert was beautiful from the day he was born. Really beautiful, not just in the way that people say babies are beautiful. And he had an array of talents. He’s. . he was naturally athletic, musical and charming. He told me he’d never had a day’s illness in his life. Not even a cold. I believed him. He never had to try very hard to be good at things and at the things that didn’t interest him he got by, easily.’
She spoke with a firm conviction that was compelling. The attractive animation had resumed.
‘He was very quick-minded. And he found in me something that mattered more than great legs and big tits, if you can believe that.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And you really believe Tennyson would have him killed because he’d been trumped by him?’
‘Good expression. Yes, trumped by a dumb actor. All his money, all his power and influence. Trumped. He’s a wild man under the suits, behind the designer glasses. He does wild, dangerous things and pays to cover them up.’
‘Has he continued to. . pursue you?’
‘Yes, subtly.’
‘What does that mean?’
She opened the briefcase and took out a slim box about ten centimetres long and three or four wide and deep. She leaned forward, put it on the desk and opened it. Inside, nestling in blue velvet, was a small, glittering object on a gold chain.
‘What is it?’ I said.
‘It’s a Faberge egg.’
I’d read about them in books but I had no clear idea of what they were or what they looked like. ‘I thought they’d be bigger.’
‘Some are. This is one of the very traditional kind, to be given as a gift at Easter and worn around the neck.’
‘Is it genuine?’
‘I think so.’
‘What’s it worth?’
‘Thousands. It can only have come from him. It’s his way of saying he still wants. . no, demands me.’
‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘Send it back, of course. Then there’ll be something else. He won’t stop. I remember him telling me how he went after a small business he was interested in. He persisted and persisted until he got it, even though he destroyed a few people along the way.’
‘I’m surprised you had anything to do with him.’
‘So am I, looking back. But I wasn’t myself and I was flattered.’
I was trying to think what use I could be in the situation. ‘Are you afraid of him, Jane?’
‘Not physically, he wouldn’t harm me, but I’m sure he could bring pressure to bear on the company I work for. He could cause me to lose my job and that’s all I have to live for right now. I feel very vulnerable and I’m not sure I can cope with another loss.’
‘Ray Frost, Bobby’s father, thinks business difficulties of his might have caused Bobby’s death. He feels responsible. .’
‘I understand. That’s part of my distress, too.’
‘. . and he’s hired me to look into it-see if he’s right.’
‘I can’t afford to hire you. I just hoped you’d be interested enough to look into what I’ve told you. See if there’s any way to sheet it home to Michael Tennyson. I know it’s a lot to ask.’
I thought about it while she closed the box and put it back in her briefcase. She smoothed her skirt down with those fine hands and looked out through the window on the left side. It was the first time in a long while I’d had an office window clean enough to look out of. From the expression on her face she wasn’t seeing the city skyline; she was looking at something shrouded and much further away-her future.
‘In a way it isn’t that much to ask,’ I said. ‘I’ve got several lines of inquiry to follow and yours is just one more. It’s all part of the same thing. What happens if I find Tennyson wasn’t involved?’
She shrugged. ‘Then at least I won’t feel responsible, and I’ll deal with it more easily.’
I told her I’d do what I could. I made a note of the partial description of Alexander Mountjoy, some details of Tennyson’s habits and interests and her own details. I advised her to upgrade the security of her flat and to get in touch with me if Tennyson approached her directly. She thanked me and left. It had all taken something over an hour. My back was stiff and sore from sitting and I was thirsty and hungry. I used the rail to help me get down the stairs and got an odd look from someone bounding up the stairs the way I used to bound. And would again, I told myself.