9 #2
‘Which is that aristocratic families like the Montroses get rich, and stay rich, by hook or by crook. They don’t change – ever.
Back in days of yore, they probably made their money by winning battles or indulging in land-grabs, or else the family beauty became the mistress of a king or whatever.
And over the centuries, they’ve only become more and more used to being privileged and getting the biggest bite of the cherry.
Believe me, their sense of entitlement is staggering.
My father taught me that much. And not one of them – and that includes the Grainger woman – ever do anything unless there’s something in it for them.
I just wish I knew what it’s all about this time, that’s all. ’
Gorman shrugged. He thought his employer was over-reacting but was not about to bite the hand that fed him. ‘You want me to continue to monitor the situation, then?’
‘Hell yes.’
‘And keep Mrs Moore under observation?’
‘Yes.’
‘Even though all she appears to be doing is legitimately researching her next book?’
‘Even so,’ Jonas said. ‘You may think I’m seeing shadows where there aren’t any, but it’s the things that you don’t know about that can turn around and bite you in the backside.
Elizabeth Grainger couldn’t care tuppence about Glen’s long-dead tart, so until I know what it is that she’s actually up to, I won’t be able to rest easy.
And the best way of discovering that is by keeping track of the writer.
What she knows, I want to know before she can pass it on to her employer. ’
‘Very good, sir,’ Gorman said, rising from his chair. ‘I’ll see about the . . . er . . . investigations into Mrs Moore’s activities.’
‘Yes. And speaking of which, I suppose I’d better get in touch with her and agree to give her an interview. If nothing else, the direction of her questions might give me some kind of clue as to what this is really all about.’
But he didn’t sound convinced.
And if the security chief secretly doubted his employer’s chances of successfully getting the better of an Oxford graduate and seasoned interviewer, he was wise enough to keep very quiet about it.
After the ex-soldier had left, Jonas sighed and reached for his phone. Since the Moore woman was right now driving back to Oxford, he was hoping to get through to her voicemail and leave a message, rather than talk to her in person, which proved to be the case.
‘Hello, this is Jonas Bannister. I’ve been giving it some thought, and I’d be happy to talk to you about Amelia Montrose and Uncle Glen.
I’m just not sure that I’ll have much to contribute to the biography,’ he began, hoping he’d managed to induce some enthusiasm and helpfulness into his voice.
‘I’d hate to waste your time. But if you’ll contact my secretary here, she can arrange a time for us to meet. ’
He hung up and sat scowling in his chair.
Was he worrying about nothing? Realistically, what were the chances that there could be any evidence left for the Moore woman to unearth after all these years that might bring to light just what his father had done so long ago?
Even if she really was as good at her job as Gorman had said she was, she couldn’t conjure up proof out of thin air, could she?
Even so, he didn’t like it. This niggling feeling that he wasn’t safe – that his comfortable existence and way of life was in jeopardy – just wouldn’t stop nagging away at him.
Not for the first time, he silently cursed his father’s memory.
This Janet Connor, for instance – just who was she?
Another groupie, perhaps, like Monty? A woman who’d hung about on the fringe of the Lucky Cuckoos and wanted to relive her glory days?
Why should he be worried about people like that?
And yet, a little voice at the back of his head insisted, it was people like that who just might have seen and heard things.
Things that might have meant nothing to them at the time but might start to add up to a clever writer and researcher whose job it was to put all things into perspective.
With a tsk of annoyance at himself for allowing his anxiety to build up needlessly, he opened his laptop and forced himself to concentrate on his work. The here and now – that was what was important. That contract with the French consortium, for instance . . .
Once Lyssa arrived back at her flat, Bibbie gave her his usual disinterested stare from the sofa, before jumping down and deigning to walk across to her, his fluffy black tail raised in greeting.
She knew why he was so glad to see her, of course – and walked straight to his bowl and sprinkled in a few morsels of his favourite dry-mix food.
Typically, he sniffed them and turned away to wander off to where a patch of sun was shining on the carpet and claimed it for his own.
She then made herself a much-needed cup of coffee and played back the recording of Janet Connor’s interview.
When she got to the part where she described seeing Deborah Simmonds and an unknown man arguing after Monty’s funeral, she paused the recording and leaned back on the sofa. Had Janet been correct in thinking that it might have been one of Glen’s brothers? And if so, which one?
She quickly consulted her notes. Glen had two brothers – one older than himself called Malcolm and one younger than himself called Robert.
She didn’t have any photographs yet of either of them, but she was hopeful of finding some images of them somewhere. And if one of them resembled Glen more than the other, then she might be able to put a name to the man Deborah Simmonds had argued with.
But the odds were that both of Glen’s brothers were now deceased. As, almost certainly, was Deborah Simmonds herself – unless she was one of the growing number of people who lived to be nearly 120!
She made a mental note to do a check and see if Deborah Simmonds had left behind her any children or grandchildren still living. Then she checked her voicemail and instantly shot upright on the couch as she heard Jonas Bannister’s message.
Yes! Finally, an interview with a member of Glen’s family. She quickly scrambled through her notes to find the phone number for Bannister’s company and got through to his secretary. They then quickly agreed on a mutually convenient date on the day after tomorrow.
She hung up, feeling much happier. It was going to be interesting to hear his personal take on Amelia, as seen from the other side of the battlelines, so to speak. So far, all she had was Elizabeth’s own point of view on things, which, almost inevitably, was bound to be biased.
She could only hope Jonas Bannister was going to prove fruitful, despite his worries that he’d be wasting her time. He wouldn’t have been old enough to remember much about the band himself, but he must have heard plenty, growing up, from his father, Glen’s younger brother.
Who knew, he might even have photographs of the Bannister family that he’d be willing to share?
In the meantime, she had to type up the Janet Connor notes. With a sigh, she turned to her laptop and created another file, clearly marking it ‘J Connor Int/view’ and began transcribing. She was still deep in the work when her phone rang nearly an hour later.
‘Hello?’ she answered it absently.