Читать книгу The Dead Wife - Sue Fortin - Страница 15

‘Damn that bloody woman,’ said Elizabeth as she ended the call on her mobile. She was sitting in the coffee shop in the main shopping street of Kendalton, consoling herself with some retail therapy. Several boutique bags sat at her feet, but today the feeling of satisfaction wasn’t there. She didn’t really care for the £250 dress, the £300 boots or the £120 skirt she’d just acquired. It had been done out of spite, if she was honest. She’d used the credit card Harry had given her linked to his account which was supposed to be for emergencies, but Elizabeth had felt justified in using it today. After all, it was an emergency as far as she was concerned.

She’d come into town to get some legal advice on her position within the family business. She’d hoped there would be a loophole she could apply which would give her some sort of voting power or at least something she could use to apply pressure on the Sinclairs to allow her a vote on issues such as the sale of the land. As it turned out, there was nothing. It frustrated the hell out of her.

The call had been from Pru, asking her to be a darling and pick up her evening dress from the dry cleaners.’

Pick up her evening dress from the dry cleaners! Who the hell did Pru think she was talking to? Elizabeth wasn’t some sort of PA!

Elizabeth eyed the garment bag from Jones’ dry cleaners, which she had carefully laid over the chair next to her so as not to crease it. Pru wanted it for a dinner party she was attending that evening. Elizabeth drummed her acrylic nails on the table, and a small smile tipped the corners of her mouth. She sloshed some of her coffee into the saucer before reaching over and unzipping the garment bag. Taking the edge of the dress, she turned the pale blue fabric over and, making sure no one was paying her any attention, she dripped the coffee from the saucer onto the silk. The muddy-coloured latte bloomed to the size of an apple.

Elizabeth’s smile broadened. That would teach the old bag a lesson. Pru probably wouldn’t even notice it until she was getting dressed and turned to admire herself in the full-length mirror of her dressing room. The coffee would well and truly have dried by then and it would be too late for Pru to do anything about it.

Elizabeth would, of course, deny all knowledge and claim it must have happened at the dry cleaners. No one would suspect she’d do anything like that – why would they?

Zipping up the garment bag, Elizabeth returned to her coffee – God, that tasted even better now. A small victory, with the only downside being Elizabeth wouldn’t be there to see the look on her mother-in-law’s face when she eventually spotted the stain. It would, of course, be awful if she didn’t spot it until she was already out. Yes, that would be dreadful.

As she sat back smugly in her seat she cast a glance out of the window, absently watching the people of Kendalton go about their business. Something – or, rather, someone – on the other side of the street caught her attention. She sat up straighter and there, hurrying along, was Owen Sinclair. Tracking his path, she watched him enter the shop across the road – a bookmakers’.

‘Why, Owen, you are a naughty boy,’ she said quietly to herself. Harry had told her about Owen and his gambling habits, how Owen had promised he wouldn’t do it any more and had even taken counselling sessions to overcome his addiction. Clearly, they either didn’t work or Owen didn’t want them to work.

Elizabeth gathered up her bags and the dry cleaning and left the coffee shop. She could be jumping to conclusions. Maybe Owen had business in the bookmakers’ and it was legitimately to do with the stables or the horses. Although something told her that she was probably being quite naive in thinking that. She crossed the road and slowed her pace, before taking her phone out and pretending to look at messages, but in actual fact looking in through the window of the bookmakers’.

She couldn’t really get a clear view of Owen, but he was definitely at the back speaking to a cashier. Elizabeth opened the camera on her phone and took a couple of snaps. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do with the pictures but a vague idea was forming in the back of her mind. As she looked up she could see Owen turning to leave and she scooted into the shop next door so he wouldn’t spot her.

She waited patiently and a few moments later Owen walked past the window. She assumed he was heading back to wherever he’d parked his car.

Again, Elizabeth didn’t have time to reason out her actions, but she stepped out of the shop and from a safe distance followed him down the road. Fortunately, it was market day in the town and both locals and holidaymakers were out in force, making it easy for Elizabeth to follow Owen without being seen. She assumed Owen had left his car down one of the side roads but was once again surprised to see him pause outside a pub, where he had a quick look to his left and right, before entering.

‘You are being exceedingly naughty,’ said Elizabeth quietly. No wonder Owen had driven all the way out here. He probably thought he was on safe ground and no one he knew would be over this way. Well, he hadn’t banked on Elizabeth and her retail therapy, had he?

With the idea of what to do with this knowledge now taking a better shape, Elizabeth followed Owen into the pub. He was standing at the bar watching the barmaid pull him a pint of lager.

Excellent! This really was going rather well.

Elizabeth moved out of Owen’s peripheral vision and waited patiently as he paid for his pint and then took a long swig from the glass. She didn’t miss her opportunity and snapped him on her phone as he slugged the cold liquid.

As he put down the glass he rested his arm on the bar and half-turned to face the rest of the room. It was then he did an almost comedy double-take as he saw Elizabeth standing there. The expression of surprise was quickly replaced with guilt. He moved his body so that he shielded his pint and picked up the glass of orange juice which was sitting on the bar.

Elizabeth admired his tactic and foresight; it was just a shame the execution and delivery were poor. She smiled back at him and walked over. ‘Owen! What a surprise. I thought it was you coming in here.’ She air-kissed the side of his face. ‘What on earth are you doing in Kendalton?’

‘Hi … er … I had to come over on business,’ he said, not meeting her eye. ‘Can I get you a drink? I was just having an orange juice. Sore throat.’ He gave a small cough and patted his neck with his finger. ‘Think I’m getting a cold.’

Not a bad bit of acting, thought Elizabeth. She gave a sympathetic look. ‘There’s a lot of it going around at the moment. I’ll have a white wine, thanks.’

Owen caught the attention of the woman behind the bar and ordered his sister-in-law’s drink. ‘What are you doing over here?’ he asked as the glass of wine was placed on the bar.

With her forefinger Elizabeth traced a path through the condensation on the glass. ‘Had some shopping to do and needed to pick up your mum’s dry cleaning.’ She took a sip of her drink. ‘I was just having a cup of coffee when I saw you across the road.’

The uneasy look on Owen’s face returned. ‘Well, it’s a nice surprise. Are you on your own, then?’

‘Harry’s back at the resort sorting out the new booking system. I’m surprised you’re not there.’

Owen shrugged. ‘Need-to-know basis, apparently.’ He tried to look nonchalant, but Elizabeth could tell he wasn’t very happy about it.

‘It’s terrible that they don’t keep you in the loop with everything,’ she said. ‘It’s almost like they don’t value your opinion or input on anything.’

‘That’s exactly what it’s like.’

‘And, from what I can tell, you get outvoted on a lot of the decisions.’ A small tide of red rose up Owen’s neck. Elizabeth knew she was hitting all the right places with her comments. She continued. ‘I thought it was a ridiculous decision not to sell the land for development.’

‘It’s not really any of your business.’

‘I’m about to make it my business,’ said Elizabeth.

‘What are you on about?’

‘You need to protect yourself.’

Owen straightened up, his face full of suspicion. ‘Against what?’

Elizabeth cocked her head to one side and smiled sweetly at her brother-in-law. ‘Having your naughty little secrets exposed.’ She was loving the look on Owen’s face.

‘I still haven’t got any idea what you’re talking about.’

Elizabeth leaned round Owen and slid the pint along the bar, leaving it between them. ‘This,’ she said simply.

Elizabeth had to give Owen his due as he made a valiant effort to act surprised and then disinterested, as if he’d never seen the pint of lager before. ‘That’s not mine,’ he said.

Elizabeth gave a patronising chuckle. ‘Oh, dear, sweet Owen. You’re a really bad liar.’ She took her phone from her pocket and called up the photos, turning the screen so Owen could see. ‘There’s one of you definitely supping that pint. And here’s another one of you in the bookmakers’. Now, I’m sure neither Natalie, your mum or either of your brothers will want to see these pictures.’

‘Are you for real?’ Owen looked incredulously at her.

‘Very real indeed.’

‘Look, it’s no secret that I have a pint now and again. Am I supposed to be worried that you’ve caught me?’ He emphasised the last two words to underline how ridiculous she was. ‘What exactly do you want, Elizabeth?’

‘No wonder Dominic despairs of you at times. Do I really have to spell it out? You change your mind about the sale of the land and I don’t send the photos. It’s quite simple.’

‘You’re serious.’ He laughed in disbelief. ‘You’re really fucking serious.’

‘Deadly.’

Owen shook his head and defiantly took a swig of his pint. ‘You’re bluffing.’

‘Try me.’

‘You really expect me to agree to the sale of the land just because you have a couple of photos of me.’

Elizabeth smiled again. ‘Yep.’

‘You’re crazy, you know that?’ said Owen. ‘And you really think I’m that worried?’

‘I know that Dominic has threatened to cut your salary if he finds out you’re drinking again.’

‘Fuck off, Elizabeth. As I said, drinking isn’t a crime. Dominic doesn’t care as long as I’m not paralytic.’

‘I still don’t think they’d be happy to see you drinking during the day, in secret, which, to all intents and purposes, is what you’re doing. And then there’s the gambling. I know Harry is concerned enough about you to agree to your salary being cut.’

‘You’re some piece of work.’

Elizabeth was just about to thank him for the compliment when before she had time to react Owen snatched the phone from her hand and dropped it into his pint glass.

Elizabeth let out a screech and tried to grab the phone, but Owen was too quick and moved the glass out of reach, covering the top with his hand. She looked disbelievingly at the phone and could already see the screen had gone blank.

‘You bastard!’ She pulled his hand away and dipped her fingers into the glass, pulling out her phone, which dripped across the bar. Elizabeth wrapped it in a towelling beer mat. ‘You’ve ruined it!’

‘Oh, dear, that’s a shame. I guess the photos won’t be of any use now.’

Elizabeth rushed out to the toilets. Maybe she could dry it under the hand dryer before it did too much damage. ‘For God’s sake!’ There were only paper towels in the ladies’.

Owen was leaning casually against the bar when she came back out, an orange juice in his hand. ‘No joy?’

‘Fuck you.’ Elizabeth grabbed her bags and the dry cleaning. She could kick herself that she didn’t have automatic cloud storage for her photos.

‘Have a nice day, now,’ said Owen.

‘In case you didn’t hear me the first time,’ hissed Elizabeth, her face only inches away from his, ‘fuck. You.’ She spun round and marched out of the pub. He might think he was clever, and he might have got the better of her this time, but this only strengthened her resolve to get what she wanted. She’d think of another way, one that he couldn’t get out of. God help her, she’d die trying before giving up.