Page 86 of Deep Blue Sea

‘Simon Michaels? I know who he is. I’ve met him a number of times. I wouldn’t say he’s a close pal.’

‘Can you speak to him for me?’

‘What about? Rheladrex?’ he said incredulously.

‘Of course. Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said?’

‘You’ve got your story, Rachel. Julian’s mistress was pregnant. With his baby. A child he was desperate for. Fuck, Jules. You idiot.’ He tipped his chin up towards the sky and closed his eyes.

‘That’s not the story. It’s information. And information isn’t always the truth,’ she said quietly. ‘It would be easy to stop here. Diana already knows about Madison. That’s enough. But I want the truth, Adam. I always have.’

‘And how do you know you’ve found it?’ he asked, looking at her.

Her eyes scanned to a path that led to the edge of the cliff.

‘Somehow you always know when it’s the end of the road. And I just don’t think we’re there yet.’

‘I’ll take you home.’

‘Will you call Simon Michaels?’

‘Tell me what you want to know and I’ll call him.’

29

Elizabeth Denver’s house was big, even by Kensington standards. A tall double-fronted town house set just off a square only a stone’s throw from the High Street, in the exclusive pocket known as the Phillimores, it seemed even whiter than the other properties, with a shiny black door that reminded Diana of 10 Downing Street. She was greeted by a maid – not a butler? she thought as she handed over her wrap and was shown towards the living room. Elizabeth is letting standards drop.

Not that anyone else would think such a thing, especially when they saw the living area. It was an expensively designed mix of styles, with deep red floral-patterned wallpaper, extravagant gold picture frames and modern furniture. The centrepiece of the room was the huge crystal chandelier, twinkling like a fallen star.

‘Diana, wonderful to see you,’ said Elizabeth, striding purposefully through the door. Diana had rarely seen her sister-in-law in anything but a trouser suit and a serious blow-dry, but today she was wearing a pair of cream jeans and a silk blouse. Her hair was flat and tucked behind her ears, and she wore little make-up. ‘So glad you could come.’

It wasn’t as if Diana had had a great deal of choice; Elizabeth had practically insisted, in her rather lofty, school-marmish way, when she had called with the invitation. ‘You can’t stay out there in that huge draughty house,’ she had said in a tone that suggested argument was not acceptable. ‘No, I will make you some comfort food and we’ll have a good old chin-wag. How’s that sound?’

It actually sounded hideous to Diana. She had never warmed to Julian’s sister – in fact she doubted there was any warmth in the woman at all – and she was fairly sure the antipathy was mutual. When Julian had been alive they had seen Elizabeth once a month for supper, and each time she had made it seem like an interview for an MBA programme, with Diana forced to apologise for her ignorance. Elizabeth clearly felt that her brother should have made a more strategic marriage, possibly to an heiress due to come into a suitably compatible multinational business, or even some sort of minor European royalty, someone who fitted in with Elizabeth’s overblown self-image; certainly not to his secretary, at any rate.

So under normal circumstances Diana would have done anything to put off her formidable sister-in-law. But things weren’t normal, far from it. Julian was dead, Charlie was at school and Rachel was out playing detective. And after her meeting with Stuart Wilson earlier in the week, Diana knew that she had to face the Denver family sooner rather than later. Adam was one thing, but Elizabeth was quite another, so it was with trepidation that she accepted her sister-in-law’s invitation to come through to the kitchen.

The large oak table at one end of the room was set for two, with wine goblets.

‘It’s just the two of us for supper, although David might join us later.’ David Douglas was Elizabeth’s much older husband, who had a senior job in the City. Diana quite liked him. Although she thought he would doubtless be as fierce in business as his wife, he was an old-school gent with beautiful manners and she found herself wishing he was here.

‘So. How was your day?’ asked Elizabeth, her voice still breezy.

‘I’ve been to see Charlie.’

‘You’ve been to Harrow? How nice. I must drive up there one afternoon with David. And how’s Olga Shapiro? She’s good, isn’t she?’

Diana couldn’t help frowning. Olga had not been Elizabeth’s recommendation, so she had no idea how her sister-in-law knew which therapist she was seeing. Then again, Elizabeth had always made it her business to know everything. It would not surprise Diana if there was some bugging device in her car that fed all her movements back to Elizabeth’s Kensington HQ. Or was she being ultra-paranoid?

Diana sat down at the table and Elizabeth slid her slender hand into an oven glove, an image that Diana wanted to capture on her phone for posterity.

‘It’s Consuela’s night off, so I’m afraid you’re lumbered with my cooking. Cordon bleu standard cuisine sadly isn’t in my repertoire of skills.’

She pulled a tray out of the oven and a steaming highly glazed salmon en croute presented itself.

‘Looks impressive to me,’ said Diana, knowing that Elizabeth’s idea of casual supper for two would inevitably involve some aspect of showing-off.

Elizabeth was an incredibly accomplished woman, but unlike many of her type and class she had no qualms about letting people know it. Educated at Yale and Stanford Business School, she had gone out of her way to be different from her brothers. She’d had a short tenure in her twenties working for Denver, specialising in the finance side, but had promptly left to set up her own business when her father had made it clear that Julian would be his heir. Diana wasn’t exactly sure what Elizabeth did, but it was certainly profitable – her asset management company was worth over $1 billion in less than five years. Three years ago, her operation had been ‘folded’ into the Denver Group – perhaps when she had made her point to her father – and she was now a very vocal member of the board.