Kane and Abel Read online

  ‘You can stop your investigation now, Mr Ricardo. I’m confident you won’t find anything of any consequence next week.’

  ‘I don’t think that would be wise, Mrs Osborne. To make a final judgement on only one week’s observation would, in my experience, be premature to say the least.’

  All right, if you think it will prove the point, but I’m still confident you won’t uncover anything new.’

  ‘In any case,’ continued Ricardo, puffing away at his cigar, which looked bigger, and smelled better, to Anne than the one he had smoked at their previous meeting, ‘you’ve already paid for the two weeks.’

  ‘What about the letters?’ asked Anne. ‘I suppose they must have come from someone jealous of my husband’s achievements.’

  ‘Well, as I pointed out to you when we last met, Mrs Osborne, tracing the sender of anonymous letters is never easy. However, I have been able to locate the shop where the stationery was purchased, as the brand is fairly unusual. But for the moment I have nothing further to report on that front. Again, I may have a lead for you next week. Have you had any more letters?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Good. Then it all seems to be working out for the best. Let’s hope, for your sake, that the next meeting will be our last.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Anne happily, ‘let’s hope so. Can I settle your expenses next week?’

  ‘Of course, of course.’

  Anne had nearly forgotten the phrase, but this time it only made her laugh. She agreed to see Ricardo for what she felt certain would be their last meeting, on Thursday. As she was being driven home Anne decided that Henry must be given the $500,000 and the chance to prove William and Alan wrong. She still hadn’t recovered from the discovery that William had come to Boston without letting her know. She felt Henry had every right to feel that her son was trying to work behind their backs.

  Henry was delighted when Anne told him over supper of her decision on the loan, and he produced the legal documents for her signature the following morning. Anne couldn’t help thinking that he must have had them prepared for some time, especially as Millie Preston had already signed. Or was she being overly suspicious again? She dismissed the idea and added her signature.

  She was fully prepared for Alan Lloyd when he telephoned on Monday morning.

  Anne, why don’t we just hold things up until Thursday. Then, at least, we’ll know who’s been awarded the hospital contract.’

  ‘No, Alan, I’ve made up my mind. Henry needs the money now. He has to prove to City Hall that he’s financially capable of fulfilling the contract, and you already have the signatures of two trustees, so the decision is not yours to make.’

  ‘The bank could always guarantee Henry’s position without actually passing over the money,’ said Alan. ‘I’m sure City Hall would find that acceptable. In any case, I still haven’t had enough time to check over his company’s accounts.’

  ‘But you did find enough time to have lunch and play a round of golf with William last Sunday without bothering to tell me.’

  There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line.

  ‘Anne, I—’

  ‘Don’t say you didn’t have the opportunity to inform me. You came to our party on Friday evening, and could easily have mentioned it to me then. You chose not to, although you did find enough time to advise me to postpone judgement on the loan to Henry.’

  ‘Anne, I’m sorry. I can understand how that might look and why you’re upset, but there was a reason, believe me. May I come around and explain everything to you?’

  ‘No, Alan, you can’t. You’re all ganging up against my husband. None of you wants to give him the chance to prove himself. Well, I’m going to allow him that chance.’

  Anne put the telephone down, pleased with herself, feeling she had been loyal to Henry in a way that fully atoned for her ever having doubted him in the first place.

  Alan Lloyd rang back, but Anne instructed the maid to say she was out for the rest of the day. When Henry returned home that night, he was delighted to hear how firm Anne had been with Alan.

  ‘It will all turn out for the best, my darling, you’ll see. On Thursday morning I’ll be awarded the contract and you can kiss and make up with Alan; still, you’d better keep out of his way until then. If you like, we can have a celebration lunch at the Grand on Thursday, and wave at him from the other side of the room.’

  Anne smiled. She couldn’t help remembering that she was meant to be seeing Glen Ricardo at twelve o’clock that day. Still, that would give her easily enough time to be at the Grand Hotel by one, when she could celebrate both triumphs.

  Alan tried repeatedly to reach Anne, but the maid always had a ready excuse. As the loan document had been signed by two trustees, he could not hold up payment for more than twenty-four hours. The wording was typical of any legal agreement drawn up by Richard Kane; there were no loopholes to crawl through. When the cheque for $500,000 left the bank by special messenger on Tuesday afternoon, Alan wrote a long letter to William, explaining why he’d been left with no choice but to transfer the money, withholding only the unconfirmed findings of his departmental reports. He sent a copy of the letter to each director of the bank, conscious that although he had behaved with the utmost propriety, he had laid himself open to accusations of concealment.

  William received Alan Lloyd’s letter at St Paul’s on the Thursday morning while he was having breakfast with Matthew.

  Breakfast at Beacon Hill on Thursday morning was the usual eggs and bacon, hot toast, cold oatmeal and a pot of steaming coffee. Henry was simultaneously tense and jaunty, snapping at the maid, joking with a junior city official who telephoned to confirm that the name of the company that had won the hospital contract would be announced by the mayor at a press conference at ten o’clock.

  Anne was almost looking forward to her last meeting with Glen Ricardo. She flicked through Vogue, trying not to notice that Henry’s hands were trembling as he read the pages of the Boston Globe.

  ‘What are you going to do this morning?’ Henry asked, trying to make conversation.

  ‘Oh, nothing much before we have our celebration lunch. Do you still plan to name the children’s wing in memory of Richard?’ Anne asked.

  ‘Not in memory of Richard, my darling. This will be my achievement, so I shall name it in your honour. The Mrs Henry Osborne wing,’ he added grandly.

  ‘What a nice idea,’ Anne said, putting her magazine down and smiling at him. ‘You mustn’t let me drink too much champagne at lunch. I have an appointment with Dr MacKenzie later this afternoon, and I don’t think he’d approve if I arrived drunk only a few weeks before the baby is due. When will you know for certain that the contract is yours?’

  ‘I already know,’ Henry said. ‘The clerk I just spoke to was one hundred per cent confident, but it won’t be official until ten o’clock.’

  ‘The first thing you must do, Henry, is phone Alan and tell him the good news. I’m beginning to feel quite guilty about the way I treated him on Monday.’

  ‘No need for you to feel any guilt, darling. After all, he didn’t bother to keep you informed about his meeting with William.’

  ‘No, but he tried to explain later, Henry, and I didn’t give him the chance.’

  All right, all right, anything you say. If it’ll make you happy I’ll phone him at five past ten, and then you can write and tell William I’ve made him another million.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’d better be going. Wish me luck.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t need any luck,’ said Anne.

  ‘I don’t, I don’t, it’s just an expression. See you at the Grand at one o’clock.’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘By tonight you’ll be able to laugh about Alan, William and contracts, and treat them all as problems of the past, believe me. Goodbye, my darling.’

  An uneaten breakfast was laid out in front of Alan Lloyd. He was reading the financial pages of the Boston Globe, noting a small paragraph in a right-hand co
lumn reporting that at ten o’clock that morning the mayor would be announcing which company had been awarded the $5 million hospital contract.

  Alan had already decided what course of action he must take if Henry failed to secure the contract and everything that William had warned him about turned out to be accurate. He would do exactly what Richard would have done in the circumstances: act only in the best interests of the bank. The latest departmental reports on Henry’s personal finances had disturbed him greatly. Osborne was indeed a heavy gambler, and no trace could be found to show that the trust’s $500,000 had been deposited with his company.

  Alan sipped his orange juice, leaving the rest of his breakfast untouched. He apologized to his housekeeper and walked to the bank. It was a bright, sunny day.

  ‘William, do you feel up to a game of tennis this afternoon?’

  Matthew waited for William to reply, but he continued to read the letter from Alan Lloyd.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Are you going deaf, or already suffering from senile dementia?’ Still no reply. Matthew tried again. ‘Am I going to be allowed to beat you black and blue on the tennis court this afternoon?’

  ‘No, not this afternoon, Matthew. I have more important matters to attend to.’

  ‘Naturally, old buddy, I forgot that you’ll be off on your weekly visit to the White House to advise President Harding on the nation’s fiscal problems. Mind you, you couldn’t do any worse than that posturing fool, Charles G. Dawes.’ William didn’t respond. ‘Tell the president you’ll continue to advise him as long as he appoints Matthew Lester to be the next Attorney General.’

  There was still no response from William.

  ‘I know the joke was pretty weak, but I thought it at least worthy of comment,’ said Matthew, looking more carefully at his silent friend. ‘It’s the eggs, isn’t it? Taste as though they’ve come out of a Russian prisoner-of-war camp.’

  ‘Matthew, I need your help,’ said William as he placed Alan’s letter back in its envelope.

  ‘You’ve had a letter from my sister, and she thinks you’re more sexy than Rudolph Valentino.’

  William stood up. ‘Quit kidding, Matthew. If your father’s bank was being robbed, would you sit around making jokes about it?’

  The expression on William’s face left Matthew in no doubt that he was serious. ‘No, I wouldn’t,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Right. Then let’s get moving, and I’ll explain everything on the way,’ said William.

  ‘On the way to where?’ asked Matthew innocently.

  ‘Boston.’

  Anne left Beacon Hill a little after ten to do some shopping before going on to her meeting with Glen Ricardo.

  The telephone rang as she disappeared down Chestnut Street. The maid answered it, looked out the window, but her mistress was already out of sight. If Anne had taken the call she would have learned City Hall’s decision on the hospital contract; instead she bought some silk stockings and tried out a new perfume. She arrived at Glen Ricardo’s office a little after twelve, hoping her new perfume might counter the smell of stale cigar smoke.

  ‘I hope I’m not late, Mr Ricardo,’ she began briskly.

  ‘Please have a seat, Mrs Osborne.’

  Ricardo didn’t look particularly cheerful, but then he never did, thought Anne. She noticed that he was not smoking his usual cigar. He opened a smart brown file, the only new thing Anne could see in the office, and extracted some papers.

  ‘Let’s start with the anonymous letters, shall we, Mrs Osborne?’

  Anne did not like the tone of his voice.

  ‘Yes, all right,’ she managed.

  ‘They are being sent by a Mrs Ruby Flowers.’

  ‘Who? Why?’ said Anne, impatient for answers she did not want to hear.

  ‘I suspect one of the reasons is that Mrs Flowers is at present suing your husband.’

  ‘Well, that explains everything,’ said Anne. ‘She must want revenge. How much does she claim Henry owes her?’

  ‘She is not alleging debt, Mrs Osborne.’

  ‘Well, what is she alleging?’

  Ricardo pushed himself up from the chair, as if it required the full strength of both his arms to raise his tired frame. He walked across to the window and looked out over the crowded Boston harbour.

  ‘She is suing him for breach of promise, Mrs Osborne.’

  ‘But that’s not possible,’ said Anne.

  ‘It appears that they were engaged to be married when Mr Osborne first met you, and that the engagement was suddenly terminated for no apparent reason.’

  ‘Gold digger. She must have wanted Henry’s money.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. You see, Mrs Flowers is quite well off. Not in your class, of course, but well off by most people’s standards. Her late husband owned a soft drink bottling company and left her everything.’

  ‘Her late husband? How old is she?’

  Ricardo walked back to the table and flicked over a page or two of his file before his thumb started moving down the page.

  ‘She’ll be fifty-three in July.’

  ‘Oh, my God,’ said Anne. ‘The poor woman. She must hate me.’

  ‘Possibly she does, Mrs Osborne, but that won’t help us. Now I must turn to your husband’s other activities.’

  The nicotine-stained finger turned over some more pages.

  Anne began to feel sick. Why had she returned? Why hadn’t she left well enough alone? She didn’t have to know. She didn’t want to know. She wanted to get up and leave. How she wished Richard was by her side. She found herself unable to move, transfixed by Ricardo and the contents of his smart new file.

  ‘On two occasions last week Mr Osborne spent over three hours with Mrs Preston.’

  ‘But that doesn’t prove anything,’ began Anne desperately. ‘I know they were discussing a very important financial transaction.’

  ‘In a small hotel on La Salle Street, at eight o’clock in the evening.’

  Anne didn’t interrupt again.

  ‘On both occasions they were seen walking into the hotel, whispering and laughing. It’s not conclusive, of course, but we have photographs of them entering and leaving the hotel together.’

  ‘Destroy them,’ Anne said quietly.

  Glen Ricardo blinked. ‘As you wish, Mrs Osborne. I’m afraid there’s more. My enquiries show that Mr Osborne was never at Harvard, nor was he an officer in the American Armed Forces. There was a Henry Osborne at Harvard who, it turns out, was five foot five, sandy-haired and came from Alabama. He was killed on the Somme in 1917. I’ve also discovered that your husband is considerably younger than he claims, that his real name is Vittorio Togna and that he has served—’

  ‘Stop. I don’t want to hear any more,’ said Anne, tears flooding down her cheeks. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’

  ‘Of course, Mrs Osborne, I understand. I’m sorry my news is so distressing. In my job sometimes …’

  Anne fought for a measure of self-control. ‘Thank you, Mr Ricardo. I appreciate all you have done. How much do I owe you?’

  ‘You have already paid for the two weeks in advance. My expenses came to seventy-three dollars.’

  Anne passed over a hundred-dollar bill and rose from her chair.

  ‘Don’t forget your change, Mrs Osborne,’ Ricardo said as she turned to leave.

  Anne didn’t seem to hear him.

  ‘Are you feeling all right, Mrs Osborne? You look a little pale. Can I get you a glass of water, or something stronger?’

  ‘No, thank you, I’m fine,’ lied Anne.

  ‘Perhaps you would allow me to drive you home?’

  ‘No, thank you, Mr Ricardo, I’ll be able to get myself home.’ She turned and smiled at the private detective. ‘It was kind of you to offer.’

  Glen Ricardo closed the door quietly behind his client, walked slowly across to the window, bit the end off his last big cigar and spat it out. He cursed his job as he watched Mrs Osborne climb into a tax
i. Such a nice lady.

  Anne paused at the bottom of the litter-strewn staircase, clinging to the banister, almost fainting. The baby kicked inside her, making her feel nauseous. She found a cab on the corner of the block and fell into the back; she was unable to stop herself from sobbing, unsure of what to do next. As soon as she was dropped off at the Red House she went to her bedroom before any of the staff could see her distress. The telephone was ringing as she entered the room. She picked it up, more out of habit than from any curiosity as to who it might be.

  ‘Could I speak to Mrs Osborne, please?’

  She recognized Alan’s clipped tones at once. Another tired, weary voice.

  ‘Hello, Alan. This is Anne.’

  ‘Anne, my dear, I was sorry to hear this morning’s news.’

  ‘How do you know about it, Alan? How can you possibly know? Who told you?’

  ‘City Hall phoned me and gave me the details soon after ten. I tried to call you, but your maid said you’d already left to do some shopping.’

  ‘Oh, my God,’ said Anne, ‘I’d completely forgotten about the contract.’ She sat down, breathing heavily.

  ‘Are you all right, Anne?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, trying unsuccessfully to hide the sobbing in her voice. ‘What did City Hall have to say?’

  ‘The hospital contract was awarded to a firm called Kirkbride and Carter. Apparently Henry wasn’t even placed in the top three. I’ve been trying to reach him all morning, but it seems he left his office soon after ten, and he hasn’t been seen since. I don’t suppose you know where he is, Anne?’

  ‘No, I haven’t any idea.’

  ‘Do you want me to come around, my dear? I could be with you in a few minutes.’

  ‘No, thank you, Alan.’ Anne paused to draw a shaky breath. ‘Please forgive me for the way I’ve treated you these past few days. If Richard were still alive, he would never forgive me.’