Waterhouse And Zailer: The Carrier Part 13

Gaby nodded.

"I just couldnt," Kerry said, her eyes filling with tears.

"Can we come back to the money?" Charlie prompted. "So Tim and Francine had a house on Heron Close that was repossessed. . . ."

"Yes. Dan and I support-supported-Francine, still support Tim," said Kerry. "Always will."

"Thats extremely generous," Charlie said.

"Were family," Kerry said firmly. "Not literally, but were all hes got and hes all weve got. And its not as if Dan and I are going to have children." Her face reddened as she realized what shed said. "There are . . . pathologies in my biological family that I dont want to risk pa.s.sing on," she explained.

Interesting.

"Kerry and Dan wouldnt be wealthy if it werent for Tim," said Gaby, as Kerry brought her mug of tea over to the table. "Have you heard of Taction?"

Charlie shook her head.

"The Da Vinci surgical robot?" Gaby said it as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Not really. Is it what it sounds like? A robot that performs surgery?"

"Yeah, basically-with the help of a surgeon, obviously. At the moment, the Da Vincis the only surgical robot on the market, but there are a couple of companies working on new robot models thatll be cheaper to manufacture and less invasive than the Da Vinci if they can be made to work. Thats a big 'if. There are no guarantees, but if the front-runner compet.i.tor makes the killing it hopes to make, itll be partly thanks to me. My first company, the one I created and sold, invented a tactile fabric."

"Taction?" Charlie guessed.

Gaby nodded. "We designed it specifically to be used in the manufacture of tactile feedback gloves. We also designed a prototype glove that doesnt work with the Da Vinci, but another companys incorporated it into the design of a rival surgical platform theyre working on. The glove provides whoevers operating the robot with data that closely simulates what shed feel with the five fingers of her own hand if she were performing manual laparascopic surgery. The Da Vinci doesnt do that, doesnt even come close. The surgeon controlling the Da Vinci cant feel whats going on inside the patients body. Theres no force feedback."

So . . . Im sitting here talking to some kind of cutting-edge technological genius superstar. Charlie kept the thought to herself; Gaby Struthers didnt appear to be in need of a boost to her confidence.

"So, that was our product," she said. "In order to fund its creation and trialing, we needed money. Tim advised me on where to get it from. He brought me investors-all the investors I needed."

"So Tim was your . . . what, your business partner? Your accountant?" Charlie asked.

"My accountant, eventually. At first, though, he just saw exactly what my business needed, and he got it for me."

"You mean the money to make your product?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, but not only that. I could have gone to any number of venture capital firms with my business plan and theyd have fallen into my lap," said Gaby, with what Charlie was starting to recognize as her characteristic modesty and self-effacement. "Theyd also have wanted control, and theyd have tried to squeeze me out. Thats what these people do. I wasnt having that. It was my company, my expertise going into the product. I knew that if we succeeded, the investors would get the lions share of the money-that was fine, I had no problem with that. But I had a huge problem with the idea of big slick b.a.s.t.a.r.ds in suits wading in and telling me how to run the show because-at the risk of sounding big-headed-I knew what I was doing, better than they ever could."

"Gabys company sold for nearly fifty million dollars," said Kerry. "To Keegan Luxford."

Charlie nodded. She knew she should say Wow, or something like that. She wondered if Keegan Luxford would be interested in buying anything of hers for fifty million dollars. Simons brain, perhaps. Even that was a non-starter. Removal and delivery would be too complicated. "So Tim found you investors whod hand over the money but let you do what you wanted with it?"

"Exactly," said Gaby. "He asked only people he knew well, who trusted him. He had unwavering confidence in me." She looked uncertain for a second. "I never really understood why. He . . . I knew I could make it work, as much as you can ever know with something so high-risk and speculative, but Tim cant have known. He just . . . believed in me, the way devoutly religious people believe in G.o.d. Faith. Somehow, Tim managed to convey that faith to enough of his clients and acquaintances, who all invested. He told them the best thing they could do was let me get on with things in my own way."

"He knew it was true, and it was," said Kerry.

"Or he was in love with me and that was all he cared about," Gaby fired back at her. "Maybe he didnt care if his clients and friends lost all their money as long as he got to impress me and be the one who solved all my problems."

"Gaby, stop." Charlie heard authority in Kerrys voice for the first time since shed arrived at the Dower House. "Poor Tim. Youre not being fair and you know it."

Poor Tim? Poor wife-smothering Tim? Charlie felt as if shed been cast adrift on waves of oddness, without a map or a pair of oars. Or even a boat.

"Im sorry. Sorry, Kerry." Gaby sounded as if she meant it. She covered her face with her hands for a few seconds. "Ignore me. I had no sleep last night. Youre right, Tim would never have advised his clients to act against their own best interests. I dont know why I said that." She sighed. "All along, he claimed to know Id succeed, that there was no risk at all, only an enormous profit to be made by all involved. I knew no such thing, but he knew. I just find it hard to believe sometimes, thats all. How can he have known?"

"We knew too," Kerry told her, squeezing her arm. "Tims confidence in you was so powerful, we didnt doubt him for a second, him or you. And you did pretty much know, Gaby-youre being modest. Why else would you have spent all that money on the whole Swiss-"

"Thats nothing to do with anything," Gaby cut her off abruptly.

Charlie felt her inner antennae twitch as the mood in the room changed.

"Im just saying, you must have known there was a very good chance-"

"Kerry, for f.u.c.ks sake, can we drop it?"

This role reversal was unexpected: suddenly Gaby was the cagey one and Kerry the big-mouth. The whole Swiss . . . what? Tax avoidance was all Charlie could think of.

"Tim wasnt as honest with you and Dan about your investment as you think he was," Gaby muttered into her cup of tea.

"You and Dan invested in Gabys business?" Charlie asked Kerry.

"Three hundred thousand pounds," said Gaby.

"Everything we had," Kerry confirmed. "Aside from our earnings from work, which werent much. Dan was an accountant, so he had what seemed like a decent salary at the time. I was earning peanuts as a care a.s.sistant."

"You invested all your savings, the lot?" Charlie allowed her incredulity to be obvious.

Kerry looked at Gaby as if she wanted her to take over the telling of the story.

"Dans mother died, left him the money in her will," Gaby said. "He didnt want it. He and his mother hadnt spoken for years before she died. She was a b.i.t.c.h-always threatening to cut him out of her will."

"She threatened to do it when he wanted to marry me," Kerry contributed. "We both thought she had. Thats the last time Dan spoke to her, just before we got engaged. She refused to come to the wedding. I wasnt good enough for her precious son, I was just a home carer. From tainted stock." Kerry started to cry, wiping the tears away discreetly as if she imagined she could hide them.

A look from Gaby warned Charlie not to ask. "Nice woman," Charlie said. To say nothing would have seemed heartless.

"So then she dies, and Dan finds out hes got all this money," Gaby picked up the story again. "But its hers, the same money that was used to bribe and blackmail him for most of his life, so he doesnt want it. Kerry didnt see it that way."

"No, I didnt. What kind of fool gives away three hundred thousand pounds on principle? We argued about it. Endlessly." Kerry shuddered. "Its the only time weve ever come to blows about anything. I couldnt bear for Dan to give the money away, wherever it came from, but he wouldnt listen. He said we were fine as we were, and how could he live with himself if he accepted an inheritance from Pu-" A deep flush spread across Kerrys face. "From his mother," she corrected herself.

Gaby grinned. "I forgot you used to call her Pue. PUE," she told Charlie. "Pure Undiluted Evil. Didnt Tim coin that one?"

Kerry nodded.

Charlie sipped her tea. "So when Tim came along suggesting you invest the three hundred thousand in Gabys company . . ."

"It was the perfect solution." Kerrys eyes lit up, as if shed just this second worked it out. "We could give away the money-all of it-and the money wed get back wouldnt be hers. Itd be different money, money from whichever company bought up Gabys. Keegan Luxford, as it turned out."

Inheritance laundering, Charlie thought.

"Different money, and a h.e.l.l of a lot more, if things went according to plan-which, thankfully for all of us, they did," Gaby said. "Meanwhile Id have spent Dans mums money getting my product to trial stage-about which I had no moral qualms, I have to say. She wasnt my b.i.t.c.h of a mother." Gaby and Kerry exchanged a smile; theyd clearly had a version of this conversation before, probably many times.

"Tim and Francine couldnt invest," Kerry told Charlie. "They didnt have a lump sum like we did, so Tim couldnt benefit from his own brilliant life-changing advice. Thats another reason why Dan and I will always look after him."

"They could have had lump sums coming out of their ears," Gaby said quietly. "Francine wouldnt have let Tim invest a tenner in GST. Not even a fiver."

Kerrys mouth twitched. She shuffled in her chair, looked nervously from Gaby to Charlie. What was it that she didnt want Charlie to know? That Francine and Tim hadnt had the best marriage in the world? That Francine had been a controlling cow whod made Tims life a misery? If it was true, Charlie couldnt work out why it should be such a big secret, when Tim Breary had confessed to killing his wife weeks ago and confirmed his guilt in every conversation hed had with the police ever since.

"Whats GST?" she asked, struggling to keep up with all the sequences of initials: PUE, GST. Guilty Smothering Tim?

"The company I sold: Gaby Struthers Technologies."

Charlie said to Kerry, "So you moved Tim and Francine in with you, paid for full-time care for Francine . . ." She lost her thread. Gaby had pushed back her chair and stood up suddenly, as if shed remembered something urgent.

"Gaby?" Kerry stood too. Follow the leader. "Are you okay?"

"I want to see Tims room. His room here. I need to see it."

Kerry stared at her, blinking as if she hadnt understood the words. Charlie waited.

"Im not sure I should. G.o.d, Gaby, I hate saying no, but without Tims permission . . ."

"Youll have to physically stop me," said Gaby, halfway to the door.

Kerry made as if to follow, then hesitated. She looked at Charlie, a plea in her eyes. "Is there something in Tims room that you dont want Gaby to see?" Charlie asked.

"No," Kerry said too quickly. She twisted her hair around her hand.

"Let her go, then. Tell me about the day Francine was murdered. What exactly happened?"

11.

FRIDAY, 11 MARCH 2011.

I run upstairs and nearly crash into Dan on the landing. Id completely forgotten about him. he doesnt seem to be on his way anywhere; hes just standing there. His guilty eyes tell me everything I need to know. "So, youre up here skulking, are you? Avoiding the cozy chat with the cops? Youre not a natural liar, Dan. You must be sick of lying about Francines death."

"You dont know what youre saying, Gaby."

"Dont you trust yourself not to blurt out the truth?"

He turns away from me, takes a couple of steps toward the top of the stairs.

"Go on, then, down you go," I say. "Except you wont, will you? You dont want to end up in the kitchen with Sergeant Zailer. Has Kerry told you to stay out of sight in case you give something away?" As soon as Ive said it, I have a better idea. "Shes playing the martyr, isnt she? You both hate lying, but Kerry would rather put herself through it than you. Youre being spared the ordeal."

"Gaby, please stop and think," Dan whispers forcefully.

"About what?"

He looks over my head. I turn. Theres nothing there apart from a long corridor with five doors on either side and another one at the end. Upstairs at the Culver Valley Door Museum. A window somewhere would have been a good idea. Is everything gray-brown up here, or is it the lack of natural light that makes it look that way?

When I turn to face Dan again, he still isnt looking at me. "Id love to stop and think," I tell him. "Id love to think about exactly what youre thinking about right now, but I cant, can I, unless you tell me what the f.u.c.ks going on?"

"Gaby." He places his hands gently on my arms. "Im not your enemy."

"Great. Now tell me who is."

"Im Tims friend. His best friend. Remember that."

Id like to scream the roof off this house that my work made it possible for him to buy, but it wouldnt do any good.

"Do you know what, Dan? Id rather you told me nothing at all than things I already know. The meaningful look on your face isnt adding an extra layer of significance, not for me-it just makes you look stupid. Yes, youre Tims best friend. I know that. But in this context, the way you said it just then, I have no idea what you mean. Whatever Im supposed to be getting, Im not getting. Tims your best friend, so . . . what? That makes it okay for you to lie about him killing Francine?"

"Tims confessed, Gaby." Another meaningful look. "Hes confessed."

Okay, calm down, Gaby. Think about this. Whats he trying to tell you? "Okay, so you and Kerry arent plotting against Tim to send him to prison for a crime he didnt commit. Or, rather, you are, but he is too. Hes plotting against himself. Its his lie, not yours-you and Kerry are supporting him. Right?"

Dan says nothing. Hes switched off his intense stare. I interpret that as meaning I guessed right; the message he was trying so hard to transmit with his eyes has been safely received.

"All right," I say quietly. "I cant think why Tim would want to go to jail for a crime he hasnt committed, but . . ." I leave a gap, so that Dan can correct any faulty a.s.sumptions Ive made so far. He says nothing. Confirms nothing, denies nothing. "But who cares what he wants?" I hiss. "Tims never had his own best interests at heart. You know that as well as I do. Has it occurred to you that backing up his false confession might not be the right thing to do? How can it be good or right for him to go to prison for the rest of his life if hes innocent? Lauren doesnt think its such a great idea. How come she feels worse about it than you do? Because her husband killed Francine? Is that why? Tell me, Dan. If we all have to lie for Tims sake, explain to me why and Ill lie too! Id do anything, for him-you know that!"

Dans breathing as if hes been running, sweating from the effort of saying nothing.

"You wont tell me because you know I wouldnt go along with it," I say. "Tims taking the blame for Francines death for some stupid, crazy reason, and youre letting him. And you know I wouldnt. You know how much I love him. Or maybe you dont-in which case, you do now!"

Does Dan think it strange that I still love Tim? Yes, its been years, but its excessive proximity, not separation, that wears love away. And I never really had Tim; he wasnt mine. My craving for him was never satisfied.

Thats not love. Thats need. Addiction.

I push the thought away. Moving will help.

"Where are you going?" Dan calls after me as I run along the corridor of doors.

"Which room is Tims?"

"Gaby, you cant just-"

"Stop me, then. This must be Lauren and Jasons room." I stand in the doorway and stare at the pictures on the wall opposite the bed: two framed black-and-white photographs of Lauren glammed up: full makeup, a clumpy retro hairstyle like a forties film star, a floaty evening dress and a fur wrap over her shoulders. This must be Jasons idea of tasteful. "Lucky shes got the wrap to cover her 'Father tattoo," I say to Dan, blinking away tears. Have you lost it, Struthers? Getting sentimental over a couple of pictures of Lauren Cookson, a virtual stranger, and the thickest care a.s.sistant in the Western Hemisphere?

The only one brave enough to speak up. Even if she changed her mind as soon as shed said it.

Was that why Lauren followed me to Dsseldorf? Had she given up on Kerry and Dan and decided I was Tims only hope?