Everything, that was, except for Angelica’s other consumer habit. At times of self-loathing, she would hit the high street with her credit card. As well as her passion for fashion, she continued to style and dress the house. In her mind, the creation of the perfect family living environment helped to hide the truth about what really bonded them. As for concealing her debts, the situation was fine until the credit crunch. With interest rates rising, Angelica could no longer afford the repayments from the joint account without arousing the suspicions of her husband. It left her with no choice. Following a showdown with Titus, whose offer to write off the debt she refused, Angelica proposed a repayment plan that left him speechless.
‘It’s time the house paid for itself,’ she had told him. ‘I’ve already spoken to an agency.’
‘But this isn’t just any house,’ Titus had reminded her. ‘It’s the one place where we can be ourselves. The only time we invite strangers inside, they never leave.’
‘I need to do this,’ Angelica had insisted.
‘But what if someone finds evidence?’
‘They won’t,’ she had said, and patted his stomach fondly. ‘As you well know, my love.’
Now three years into the arrangement, the Savages had become used to occasionally having large numbers of media people occupy the ground floor. Angelica was happy, having taken responsibility for her spending, while the kids took great delight in spotting their home on billboards and in magazines. As much as he grumbled, she knew that even Titus had come to accept it. Angelica even suspected he got a kick out of the fact that the house was on show to the public, and yet in private hosted scenes that could attract attention for all the wrong reasons. She figured it gave him a sense of control, as it did for her. The incident with the model was regrettable, but Marsha from the agency had assured her that business would come back to the house in time. Angelica hadn’t liked the sound of this one bit. Her credit card debt repayment depended on the income it brought her. Then again, she couldn’t risk kicking up a fuss because that would just be heartless. A suicide is a tragedy at any time, Marsha had reminded Angelica over the phone later that week. There was nothing anyone could’ve done. Apart from not stringing up a booby trap in our bathroom, Angelica had thought, but kept it to herself. Instead, all she could do was go into denial about the financial implications. She’d done it for years, after all. As for Ivan, he was doing his best to atone for his mistake. He hadn’t attempted a single joke that silenced the family, and was spending a great deal of time with his grandfather. It was good to see. He could learn a lot from Oleg, she decided, while Titus had talked of giving his son the chance to prepare the next feast. Combined with what he’d learned from the accident in the bathroom, Angelica hoped that Ivan would come out of this a stronger and more rounded young man. It made the debt issue just that little bit more bearable for her.
As for Sasha, this foolish adventure with fruit and vegetables that Jack had encouraged her to undertake couldn’t end soon enough. It had put Angelica in an awkward position. Keeping it a secret from Titus wasn’t something she found easy. Then again, she couldn’t afford for him to find out. Not now they were due to meet Sasha’s boyfriend for themselves. It was bad enough that he was a vegetarian. If Titus knew that he had invited their eldest daughter to cross over, even for a week let alone a month, he would skin the boy alive.
Based on what he had heard since planting the bug, Vernon English was sure of one thing: food was important to the Savages.
Parked down the road, within range of the device, he had sat and listened in to all kind of conversations about cooking. Angelica was in charge of the kitchen, so it seemed, but everyone showed an interest in whatever was on the hob, under the grill or in the oven. A feast was planned, he had learned, which was an unusual term for anyone to be using in this day and age. Still, it was hardly evidence that Titus was involved in the death of Lulabelle Hart.
After several days trailing the man home from work and then plugging in his earpiece, Vernon was beginning to think that Titus Savage’s worst crime was a weak spot for pickled walnuts straight from the jar. The joke about each one looking like a shrunken brain wasn’t funny the first time he had heard it, and yet Titus continued to trot it out. Vernon recorded everything, unaware that it would one day be released to a public hungry for an insight into the family. Just then, the private investigator was half listening to a chat between Angelica and her daughter, Sasha. The pair were preparing tea and cupcakes or some such, he wasn’t sure what. Still, he knew it was worth keeping the channel open because Titus was also in the house. To keep himself occupied, and break the boredom, Vernon was munching on a packet of sea salt and malt vinegar flavoured crisps. Having missed what could’ve been a vital lead, all for the sake of a bucket of chicken nuggets, he wasn’t going to let himself go hungry on the job again. Vernon balled the empty packet in one hand and tossed it into the passenger floor well. It landed in among all the other discarded packets, not just for crisps but biscuits and sweets. He eyed them for a moment, wishing he had the willpower to pick up some raisins or bananas instead of the snacks.
‘You should watch what you eat,’ he told himself, and looked down at his waistline. As a younger man, he’d have described himself as whippet thin. He hadn’t grown fat as such. It’s just his gut looked more like a loaf of bread that had failed to rise properly in the oven. He put this down to years of cooking for one after the divorce, which had involved a lot of ready meals. ‘We’ll bring something next time,’ he added, as if to reassure his stomach that he hadn’t given up on getting the washboard back.
Vernon surfaced from what was frankly a pipe dream by the sound of a car passing, and then pulling up outside the Savage residence. He sat up in his seat, reaching for his notebook at the same time so that he could take down the registration plate. The young man who climbed out of the driver’s side looked strikingly confident to Vernon. He was one of those youths who dressed smartly to counter a carefully waxed and sculpted mop of hair. It was meant to look wind-blown, as if the guy had been brooding on a craggy tor. Vernon disliked him straight away, whoever he turned out to be.
Sasha had worked hard in the kitchen to prepare for Jack’s visit. She’d managed to persuade her parents that a supper was just too much. It risked idle chat turning into an investigation. Asking Jack to drop round for a cup of tea, before they headed off for an evening out, was surely more than enough to satisfy their curiosity.
‘We’re only being responsible parents,’ Angelica had said, when she found Sasha decorating a batch of cupcakes fresh from the oven.
‘I know that,’ said Sasha. ‘It’s the opportunity to embarrass me that I could really do without.’
‘Would I do that?’
‘It isn’t you I’m worried about.’
Angelica didn’t need to ask if she was referring to her father.
‘These look lovely,’ she said after a moment, and inspected the cakes a little closer. It was clear that Sasha had gone to great lengths here, but when she picked one up it left a lot of crumbs behind. Angelica didn’t like to criticise, but took a moment too long to reach for a compliment. ‘I’m sure Jack will appreciate the effort you’ve made,’ she said eventually.
Sasha finished by sprinkling a pinch of especially-sourced hundreds and thousands over her creations, and figured her mother might as well know.