Chapter Thirty-One
JILL IS IN the kitchen when the doorbell chimes.
She goes rigid. Ted hasn’t returned home; she’s alone here.
What if it’s the person who has been texting them?
Watching them? She walks slowly down the hall and sees through the glass of the door that it’s Lara.
She doesn’t want to talk to her right now.
She fixes a fake smile on her face and opens the door anyway; she can’t hide from Lara.
But she must be on her guard. Maybe Lara is behind all this. It frightens her. What if she is?
‘You look worn out,’ Lara offers, stepping across the threshold with a sympathetic expression.
Jill knows she looks like shit. She got virtually no sleep last night after they’d discovered the cameras. She doesn’t know if she will ever sleep soundly again. She realizes she’s staring at Lara.
‘Are you okay?’ Lara asks with concern.
‘I’m fine,’ she says, turning away. ‘Yesterday was hard,’ she admits, ‘for both of us. It really brought home to Ted that he’ll never see Greg again.’ She has her back to Lara as they head down the hall to the kitchen. ‘It was exhausting, talking to all those people.’
‘I figured,’ Lara agrees. ‘I thought you might need a shoulder.’
She regrets having told Lara that she was going to stay home from work today. She can’t do this right now. ‘Coffee?’
‘Sure,’ Lara answers. ‘Nadya’s not here today?’
‘I gave her the day off,’ Jill says. She starts making their coffees, trying to pull herself together. ‘We never really got a chance to talk, yesterday, at the memorial. How are things with you and Ben?’ She doesn’t want to talk about her and Ted and Greg and Ramirez.
‘Oh, you know, much the same,’ Lara says. She pauses. ‘With one small exception.’
‘Oh, what’s that?’ Jill turns to look at her.
Lara smiles at her and confides, as if reluctantly, ‘We’re thinking of trying for a baby.’
‘What? Really?’ Jill is surprised. She thought Lara and Ben had decided against having children. ‘What made you change your mind?’ she asks, grateful to have something else to talk about.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Hormones maybe? Seeing cute babies in cute outfits everywhere? Ben wanting to carry on the family name? That’s a big one. He doesn’t have any siblings.’
‘Are you sure?’ Jill asks. ‘It’s a big step.’ She can do this, she tells herself. But she finds it hard to concentrate on what Lara’s saying – she’s thinking about what’s on those cameras.
‘I know.’ Lara accepts the cup of coffee she offers her.
‘I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I know how you feel about kids.
I used to feel the same way. But something has changed.
And you know, it’s not so bad if you have money.
We have enough room for a live-in nanny.
So I’ll be able to escape whenever I have to.
’ She gives a little laugh. ‘I don’t suppose I could convince you to be its godmother? ’
‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ Jill says. Surely Lara can’t be the one behind the cameras and the texts if she wants her to be her child’s godmother.
‘And we could stop at just one. Lots of couples are doing that now,’ Lara patters on, ‘although I think Ben wants two.’ She takes a sip of coffee. ‘But you know what, it may never happen. Maybe we’ll have fertility problems.’
Jill gets out a box of cookies and arranges some on a plate.
They take their coffee, and Jill leads them toward the front room, remembering the camera with a sickening feeling.
If Lara is the one behind the cameras, if she watched a live feed of them panicking yesterday when they found the camera here, in this very room, she shows no sign of it. It can’t be Lara, she tells herself.
They sit down on the sofa. ‘Seriously though,’ Lara says, picking up a cookie, ‘Ben doesn’t want to be the last of his line. Doesn’t Ted worry about that?’
‘No.’
‘But if you don’t have children, what are you going to do with all that money?’ Lara says, smiling.
‘There’s no way we’re having kids, you know that. We’re not going to change our minds.’
‘So will you donate it all to charity after you’re gone?’
‘I haven’t given it any thought,’ Jill replies. And she hasn’t. She doesn’t care what happens after they’re dead. It’s been all about her and Ted living their best life. And now their lives are probably ruined.
‘Maybe you’ll spend it all,’ Lara says. ‘You mentioned a holiday place in France. I hope you’ll let us visit.’
‘If you leave the kid home with the nanny.’
‘Of course! I’ll need to get away! And you will start your own art gallery,’ Lara continues.
‘I think you’ll be very successful at it.
You’ve got a great eye. Travelling the world, buying art, reselling at a profit.
Your own galleries in New York and London and wherever you please. Sounds perfect to me.’
Jill looks back at Lara. It can’t be Lara behind the texts and the cameras. She couldn’t fake it this well.
‘This Ramirez though,’ Lara continues, her voice becoming more serious. ‘What was he doing at the memorial yesterday? Can’t you get him to leave you alone?’
Jill stares back at her friend. For a moment she feels dizzy. She’s not sure how to answer. She sips her coffee and says, ‘He seems to have it in for us – I don’t know why. It was just a horrible accident. He has no evidence that it was anything but an accident. He will have to give up eventually.’
‘What he’s doing is harassment. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.’
‘No, we shouldn’t,’ Jill agrees, as her eyes move nervously around the room.
Ted, sitting in the booth in the coffee shop, senses someone standing near him and glances up. It’s John fucking Burnley. He stares at his adversary. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he says.
‘Nice to see you too,’ John says, sliding into the booth opposite and waving the server over. He orders a coffee, and the server moves away again.
‘How did you find me here?’ Ted asks.
‘Sorry, something came up. I was rushing to the park to meet you and saw you coming in here.’
‘You didn’t text me.’
‘What, are we dating now?’
Ted looks at him with distaste. He doesn’t buy it for a minute.
He thinks John was watching him from a distance, then followed him here.
He’s trying to throw him off balance. But he knows what John is doing, and it isn’t going to work.
‘We could have just cut all the bullshit and met here in the first place,’ Ted says. ‘We don’t have to play games.’
‘Who’s playing games?’ John says, smiling, as his coffee arrives.
‘I know what you’re doing,’ Ted says, leaning forward over the table between them, lowering his voice to an angry hiss.
‘What am I doing?’ John asks, leaning in to listen.
‘Planting the cameras. Those fucking text messages.’
‘Oh, that,’ he says, affecting boredom, leaning back against the red vinyl banquette. And then he smiles, and Ted is convinced that John is the one behind all of it.
‘How did you get inside my house?’ Ted demands.
‘I know people,’ John says, ‘with the right skills.’
‘Of course you do, you son of a bitch,’ Ted says. ‘Are there any more cameras?’
‘No.’
‘So – how much do you want?’ Ted asks abruptly. He has reached the limit of his patience. He wants to know what he’s dealing with. He watches John consider.
‘What’s it worth to you?’ he asks.
This surprises Ted. It’s not what he expected.
Now he must think carefully. ‘It has to be a one-time payment only. You can’t keep asking.
That’s not how this is going to work.’ John stares at him, pursing his lips.
‘And I want the digital recordings back, all of them, and I have to be sure there are no copies.’ Ted knows that he will never be sure there are no copies.
Of course Burnley would keep copies, and keep asking for more.
That’s why he will have to kill him. And he will do it before he pays him a dime.
John Burnley has no idea who he’s dealing with.
‘You haven’t suggested a number,’ John says.
‘Two million, and not a penny more.’
‘Double that, and you’ve got a deal,’ John says.
Ted takes a deep breath and says, ‘Fine. There’s just one thing, though. I don’t have the money yet. It’s going to take awhile for the estate to come through to me.’
‘How long?’
‘It’ll be another few months, at least, probably next summer, before I can get my hands on that kind of money.’
‘I can’t wait that long,’ John says. ‘You’ll get the digital files when I get my money. The sooner the better.’ He stands up. ‘Nice doing business with you, Ted.’ He claps him on the shoulder as he leaves.
John Burnley lights a cigarette once he leaves the coffee shop, and walks down the street thinking A fool and his money are soon parted.
Ted never was too bright, he tells himself, smiling.
No street smarts at least, not like him.
Now John is going to be four million bucks richer, with almost no effort at all.
And like he said to Ted, the sooner the better.
He’s sure Ted can get the money somehow without waiting for the estate to be finalized, if he wants to badly enough.
And John thinks he does. He looked like he was scared shitless.