Royal Heist Part 19

He snapped his cell phone shut and sat with his cappuccino, wondering how to approach the matter. He had to find out the private investigator's name and, more important, if the PI had discovered anything that would lead Sylvia to him.

Helen opened the front door. She looked dreadful, even thinner than before. "Sylvia's on her way. I called her office and she was just leaving." She gestured for him to follow her into the drawing room. "Would you like some tea?"

"That would be nice," he said. "I've had a long day."

Helen clasped her hands. "I'll just slip out to the high street. There's a very good deli, wonderful cakes, unless . . ."

"I don't want to put you to any trouble but I'm a sucker for chocolate eclairs."

Helen tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. "I'll be two minutes. Would you like the television on?"

"No, thanks. It'll be nice to sit here and relax."

As soon as he heard the front door close, de Jersey was on his feet. He searched the room, then looked through the rest of the apartment, walking past the immaculate kitchen and bathroom to Sylvia's bedroom. He was fast and careful, first her wardrobe, then her dressing table. Last he searched her bedside table and, in one of the drawers, discovered a photograph of her with David Lyons, several letters, and Sylvia's birth certificate and driving license. He hurried from the bedroom into a small adjoining room she used as her office, where he uncovered the mail from Matheson in New York, his carefully listed expenses and updates of his investigation. Then he heard the front door open and was caught near the bedroom door. He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, where's the bathroom?"

Helen pointed to a door opposite as she made her way into the kitchen.

He went in and closed the door. Then he read one of the letters he'd taken from the bedroom. It was a love letter from David to Sylvia.

It was almost five thirty when Sylvia arrived. De Jersey stood up to shake her hand. Helen seemed as relieved as he was to see her. "If you two will excuse me, I think I'll just go and have a lie-down. I hardly sleep at all these days," she said.

"I'll wake you for dinner," Sylvia said.

She took off her coat and gestured for de Jersey to sit down. "I suppose you've heard all about her depression. I have to listen to it day and night, and it's becoming a strain." She tossed her coat over a chair and sat primly opposite him. "After everything is settled I think she'll have enough to buy a small place of her own. These things take so much time, though. We've sold the house, or what was left of it after the fire, but poor David was in a dreadful mess. The house was in both their names, but he'd even remortgaged that. Helen just signed whatever he put in front of her." She sipped her tea. "For a while the police and the fire specialist were suspicious of the way the fire had started, but in the end they couldn't find anything, so the insurance company was forced to pay up. At least Helen has salvaged something from this mess."

"Unlike you," he said quietly.

"What?"

"I understand that you also invested money in the Internet company."

"How did you find that out?" Sylvia asked, surprised.

"You aren't the only one with access to information, Miss Hewitt."

"Helen still doesn't know I was one of the unlucky investors," she said. "I'd prefer to keep it that way, at least for now. It has been a very sad business all round." She took another sip of tea. "I have contacted the two other main investors, and they are surprisingly reticent about the matter. Although I haven't lost as much as them or you, I'm not prepared to sit back and accept it."

De Jersey was angry. "So, contrary to my request that you keep my financial doc.u.ments confidential, it seems you have been using them."

"Well, David often stopped off with me to do some homework. He left a few files and I looked through them," she admitted.

"Homework?" de Jersey asked, feigning surprise.

"It was such a long journey home that he often waited here until the rush hour was over."

"You should tread carefully. If you are privy to my private transactions-"

"Not all of them," she interjected.

"That is beside the point. As I have told you, I am distressed to think that my financial doc.u.ments are being discussed without my permission. It is highly irregular, not to mention illegal."

"I am aware of that. But under the circ.u.mstances with his suicide-"

"The manner of his death has little to do with me, Miss Hewitt. If you continue to search through my private papers, I will be forced to consult a lawyer to-"

"I haven't shown them to anyone else. In fact, I'd have thought you'd be pleased that I'm making progress in trying to trace the man responsible for the losses you have incurred."

"I am here to request again that you cease doing this."

"But why? You have lost a substantial fortune, Mr. de Jersey. Don't you want it back?"

"I am more than aware of what I have lost-"

"But I have some information. My private investigator has discovered that a man called Philip Simmons has been acting on Alex Moreno's behalf in financial matters, and I am determined to track him down. I think they made some kind of deal that enables Moreno to benefit from the sale of his property without having to worry about creditors seizing the funds."

De Jersey clenched his teeth.

"I'll get the details for you." Sylvia scurried from the room and returned with a bulging file. She sat down at the table and began to take out doc.u.ments. She handed them to de Jersey with a flourish. "The same man, Philip Simmons, organized the continued refurbishment of the East Hampton property and apparently intends selling it as soon as it is completed. He also sold Moreno's apartment. I have searched through file after file, and I can find no one of that name in David's records. I've asked his a.s.sistant, Daniel Gatley, and he cannot recall meeting him. So who is he? Is he in partners.h.i.+p with Moreno? At the very least this Mr. Simmons must know how to contact him. Or maybe it's something more sinister."

"Sinister?" de Jersey repeated.

"Moreno has disappeared without a trace. Maybe Simmons is using an a.s.sumed name. I'm sure we're on to something because Mr. Matheson has confirmed via some contact he has in Immigration that no one by that name ever arrived in the U.S. from Canada. In fact, they have no record of him entering the U.S. at all."

De Jersey thanked G.o.d he had used his c.u.mmings pa.s.sport to enter the United States. "Is Simmons among the investors?" he asked.

"No, he isn't. He might be Canadian, but I a.s.sume he lives in the States, because why would Alex Moreno use a Canada-based financial adviser? It doesn't make sense. I have a list of the other investors if you would like to see it. None suffered the losses you, Mr. Driscoll, or Mr. Wilc.o.x did."

Every time she mentioned their names together he cringed inwardly.

"I have paid this detective a substantial amount already, so to just let it go would be silly," she went on. "I have therefore asked him to continue. I think it would be sensible to pool our resources, split the cost of hiring Mr. Matheson. I'm sure he will get us results."

"How much do you believe the house and the apartment in America are worth?" de Jersey asked.

"You mean, what has Simmons got away with?" she asked.

"Didn't you say he was just a business adviser that Moreno employed?"

"Yes, but even if he isn't profiting himself from the sale, he will know who the money goes to when it's sold, won't he?"

"And if you trace that person, do you think he will just hand over the money?"

"Well, whether it's Simmons, Moreno, or someone else, they should be forced to split it with us. If we can't make them, we'll get the police and the courts involved."

De Jersey remained silent for a moment as she began to collect the papers. Then he asked, "These two other major investors, have you their permission to act on their behalf?"

"No, as I said earlier, they're rather dismissive. All the other investors I've spoken to are eager for results. I've also discovered David began to communicate with Moreno six months before the crash. He was e-mailing him daily. These are copies of the e-mails." She pa.s.sed the printouts to de Jersey. "As you can see, around five months ago Moreno wasn't giving David any hint of the company's financial troubles and instead was suggesting that he bring in more financial backers. And he did. You yourself remortgaged your property, as did Mr. Wilc.o.x."

"It seems suspicious to me that you have access to such sensitive information," de Jersey remarked, in a cold but even tone.

"What do you mean?" Sylvia said, unnerved.

"I'm not sure if you want me to discuss this here," de Jersey said and glanced toward Helen's bedroom.

"Is it to do with Helen?"

"Yes. You see, David was an old and trusted friend. He often confided in me."

"Really?" Now it was her turn to tense.

"I have said that my business with your brother-in-law was highly confidential. The fact that he embezzled substantial amounts of my money is shocking, and I was not prepared when my solicitors informed me of another perplexing and deeply worrying discovery."

Her face took on a puzzled expression.

"Perhaps David had a partner a.s.sisting him in the fraud. Someone with access to his papers, to his clients, someone to whom he was very close."

Sylvia sat back nervously. "I don't follow."

"I think I should make it clear, then. I'm presently taking legal advice, and we have been discussing action against you, as we believe you a.s.sisted David in embezzling money from my accounts which I had not authorized to be invested."

Sylvia sat in shocked silence.

"There is also a trust fund that David stole from me, and we believe he must have had an accomplice."

"That is ridiculous." Sylvia bristled.

"Is it? Well, then, perhaps you should know we are aware that you and David were involved s.e.xually. We have photographs of the two of you together in-"

"That isn't true!"

"I'm afraid it is." He knew he'd got her. "I know that you were his mistress."

Sylvia stood up, her face drained of color.

"I'm sure poor Helen has no idea that you and David had been having an affair for years. You may have hired a private investigator, Miss Hewitt, but so did I. I can a.s.sure you that my information regarding your connections to David could have you charged with conspiracy."

"No, no! I swear before G.o.d it's not true."

"Isn't it? Maybe you're pretending to pay for a detective when what you're really doing is attempting to squeeze even more money out of the investors."

"You're wrong."

De Jersey stood up and stared at her. "I'm warning you, Miss Hewitt. You will return my financial doc.u.ments and everything else in your possession that concerns me or I shall proceed with legal action."

Sylvia began to weep. "I admit that David and I were lovers, but I did nothing illegal. Nothing."

"Well, I would like to believe you, but my solicitors do not agree. I came here today to warn you. I care for Helen and don't want to see her hurt any more than she already is."

"Please don't tell her this, she'll have a breakdown."

De Jersey ran his fingers through his hair. "Then you had better call off this chap in America. My financial situation is not your problem. My people do research on my behalf. If they prove to me without a doubt you had no involvement-"

"But I didn't!" She started to sob. "I loved him, but whatever I say won't help. I know how it must look, but I had no idea he was involved in such terrible frauds. I'm sure most of it was unintentional. He always spoke so highly of you."

"Miss Hewitt, I am not interested in hearing sad stories about David," he snapped, and this time he moved very close to her. "I will not hesitate to make sure your sister knows the truth, and I won't be sorry to drag you through the courts if that's what it takes to stop you invading my privacy. Do you understand?"

Fifteen minutes later de Jersey left the St. John's Wood apartment, carrying disks and papers he had taken from Sylvia. She had called Matheson in New York and, in front of de Jersey, taken him off the case. She'd also signed a confidentiality agreement, promising not to divulge anything she had learned about his private affairs. She wept when he promised that he would reimburse her losses at some time in the future if she kept her word. He warned her against making any further calls to Wilc.o.x or Driscoll or making his losses known to other investors.

It was after eleven when de Jersey arrived home. He went straight to his study and had just filed away the papers he had taken from Sylvia when Natasha walked in. "Daddy, we've been trying to contact you all day."

He whipped round, startled. "What's wrong?"

"It's Royal Flush. The vet's taken swabs from his throat. He's had a bad chest after his training session."

"Thanks for telling me. I'll go and have a look at him." He threw on an overcoat and walked out into the yard. He let himself into the manager's office and read the vet's reports with a sinking heart.

After tests it had been surmised that Royal Flush had nothing more than a cold. But the mere fact that the horse had been off color worried him. First the leg injury, now the chest infection. If Royal Flush had trouble with his breathing, it was a sure sign of problems to come. As soon as the weather cleared the horse would begin training for the Derby, but fortunately there was still considerable time before June. He put the reports back in their place.

He was so deeply in thought he was startled to find Natasha standing over him. She had on an overcoat over her nightdress, and Wellington boots.

"Is he all right, Daddy?"

He reached out his arm to draw her to his side. "He's doing fine." Then he stood up and ruffled her hair. She buried her face in his chest, and he chuckled. "Still my little girl. But you should be in bed."

"I was worried about Royal Flush."

"So am I, but the vet says he's just got a chest cold, and there's plenty of time for him to recover before the season starts."

He turned out the lights, and they walked out of the office past the back room. This was where the racing colors of his stable were kept. He switched the lights on and stood breathing in the smells he loved and touching the colors displayed on the wall alongside the plaques and pictures of past champions. So many races, so much of his life was here in this tack room. Next to his knee boots and weight cloth hung Royal Flush's bridle. Laid out on the table was the grooming kit that the lads used with such care to maintain his beautiful coat. Natasha slipped her arm through his as he touched Royal Flush's bridle.

"Your granddad, he would have been so proud. You missed a lot not knowing him and my mother. In fact, she looked a lot like you: tall, strong, knitting. Always knitting. And when I was a little boy she'd read to me. She could read and knit at the same time. Click click. She had a soft, warm voice. She read me all the cla.s.sics. Sometimes I think she knew whole pa.s.sages of them by heart. I owe her a lot. Shall we go and say good night to my boy, then?" he asked.

They went into the yard, and he opened the stable door. Royal Flush kicked out, then stared at de Jersey angrily.

"What's up with you, my old son?" he said quietly and approached him.

The magnificent horse snorted and allowed de Jersey to stroke his neck. From his glossy coat and impressive presence, it was hard to believe there was anything wrong with the stallion.

De Jersey rested his head against the big beast's neck and closed his eyes. Here was the jewel in his crown. Never before had he placed so much expectation in a horse. "Don't let me down," he whispered. He felt so close to Royal Flush that it was hard to drag himself away. As he shut the stable door, he took one last look.

"What is it, Daddy?"

He had almost forgotten Natasha was there. "Well, darling, I've never put my dreams on the line like this. Sometimes at night I close my eyes and I see him winning the Derby. I truly see every moment, and I feel the most extraordinary pride. That's my boy coming out of the starting gate, and I know he's going to win for me. Then, when he pa.s.ses that winning post, I'm cheering and waving my hat in the air. . . . But then I wake up and realize it was only a dream."

She slipped her hand into his, and they walked back to the house in silence.

He had been thinking that he should come up with some kind of insurance in case the robbery was unsuccessful, whereupon not only would he lose the estate but any buyer for the yard would want Royal Flush. In the past he'd always had a backup plan in case a robbery failed. Now was the time to put in place a safety net.