Читать книгу Chelsea Wives - Anna-Lou Weatherley - Страница 6

PROLOGUE

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Detective Inspector Mitch McLaren glanced around the magnificent library, casually perusing the literature that was neatly stacked inside the antique wooden bookcases. The fact that he had been kept waiting seemed to irk him more than usual, so much so that he had helped himself to a cheeky nip of cognac from a decanter on the sideboard. Something told him he was going to need it.

You could tell a lot about a person by the books they owned, he thought, as he threw back the cognac in one hit. Somehow he hadn’t had Sebastian Forbes down as a Jane Austen man. Must be his wife’s, he thought, smiling as he came across Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Exhaling softly as he pulled it from the shelf, it immediately evoked a strong memory of her; her long, dark hair, shyly falling over her face like a silk curtain as she pretended not to notice him looking at her …

‘Detective Inspector McLaren?’ Sebastian Forbes’s clipped tones sliced through Mitch’s thoughts with all the subtlety of an axe as he stormed into the library, his face a crimson colour, veins protruding in his neck in what looked like protest.

‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Forbes,’ Mitch said, his hand outstretched in greeting.

Sebastian did not take it.

‘The Commissioner said you’re the best he’s got,’ Sebastian said, matter of fact, casting the Inspector a rather disdainful glance. ‘Well, I hope for your sake he’s right because I want this case solved pronto, do you understand me, Inspector? I said pronto.’ Sebastian poured himself an extra large champagne cognac and threw it back without offering Mitch one.

‘It’s a fucking disaster, that’s what this is,’ he growled, pulling his lips over his teeth as the alcohol hit the back of his throat. ‘That diamond is worth more than the national debt, and somehow those bastards knew exactly how to get inside my bank and get their thieving hands on it.’ Sebastian was incandescent, his hands shaking with rage. ‘I want them found, Inspector. I want you to find the scum that did this and I want you to throw the bloody book at them, do you hear me?’

Mitch watched Forbes carefully. It was immediately obvious that the man was a tyrant. It was written right through him like a stick of Blackpool rock. He hadn’t even asked about the unfortunate security guard, currently fighting for his life in hospital.

‘Mr Forbes, I need to ask you a few questions if that’s OK.’ Mitch cleared his throat. ‘Questions you might find impertinent, but are necessary nonetheless.’

Sebastian didn’t care much for the DI’s abruptness but given the circumstances had little choice but to comply.

‘You say you were the only one who knew the codes to the security system, that is right isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Sebastian snapped back, the irritation in his voice tangible. ‘I changed the codes myself, a few hours before leaving to catch the plane. Look,’ he said tightly, ‘that system is infallible, Inspector; it’s one of a kind, pioneering technology from America which I helped create.’ He thumped his chest, indignant. ‘Only I knew the codes to gain access to the vault and only I have access to the room where the diamond was kept. The Interlocking System has an in-built scanner that relies on facial recognition. My face, Inspector, is the key that unlocks it.’

‘Is there somewhere I can play this?’ Mitch asked, producing a CD from his inside pocket. ‘I think it might be of some interest to you,’ he said as Sebastian nodded towards the flat-screen on the wall. ‘It’s CCTV footage taken from last night. I want you to look carefully at it, Mr Forbes,’ Mitch instructed him. ‘Tell me if you recognise any of the men.’

Sebastian downed another cognac, squinting at the images as they came into view.

‘Good … good God …’ he said after a moment, taking a step back in alarm, pointing at the screen in shock and confusion. ‘That man … it’s … it’s me! But … it isn’t me … that’s impossible. I told you, I was on a plane to Rio last night. I was on a goddamn plane!’ Sebastian’s voice was high-pitched in protest. ‘Surely you’re not stupid enough to think this really is me? A hundred or more people can vouch for me!’

Mitch nodded. ‘We will have to check all your alibis, of course,’ he said with an even smile.

‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ Sebastian slammed his glass down onto the antique desk with such force that it was testament to the quality of the crystal that it didn’t break.

‘I’m going to need to speak to your wife, Mr Forbes,’ Mitch said after a moment’s pause. ‘Ask her a few questions, if that’s OK.’

Sebastian looked up.

‘My wife?’

‘It’s merely a formality,’ he reassured him.

Sebastian sighed heavily, his temper dissolving into self-pity.

‘As you wish. Though I can’t imagine she’ll be of much help.’ He picked up the internal line. ‘Jalena, ask Mrs Forbes to come down to the library immediately will you? What? I don’t care if she’s still sleeping, goddamn it, this is important!’ he bellowed, slamming the telephone down.

Muttering under his breath, Sebastian reached for the cognac decanter once more, this time having the decency to pour the Inspector one.

Accepting it, Mitch turned away from him and wandered towards the bay window, looking out onto the pristine terrace at the pruned topiary and expensive Lloyd Loom furniture.

He was still looking out of the window, cognac in hand, as he heard the door to the library open. It was only as he slowly turned round that he felt the glass suddenly slip from his fingers and his heart stop dead.

Chelsea Wives

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