Page 161 of Wife After Wife

“The lump sum was, yes. And I assume this latest demand is the brainchild of your boyfriend, Mr....” He looked down at the papers in front of him. “Denham.”

Caitlyn went cold. “Frankie? He’s got nothing to do with anything. Frankie’s history.”

“If he’s your ex, why is he asking for a ludicrous sum of money on your behalf?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ms. Howe, please don’t play the innocent.”

He fished something out of the pile and pushed it across the table to her. It was the photograph, attached to a typed sheet of paper.

She looked at it, confused, then up at Tom. “I don’t know anything about this.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She picked it up and read:

£250,000 in used notes. Deliver by hand to 54A Brick Hill Road, Camden at 11 a.m. on Wednesday 3 December. If it doesn’t happen, copies of this photo will be sent to the press with a statement from Caitlyn Howe to the effect that she was fifteen when she first had sex with Harry Rose, in 1999. There are witnesses who will confirm this.

It took her a while to process the words. Eventually she looked up at Tom and said, “I know nothing about this. You have to believe me. It’s Frankie; he saw the photo. It was his idea, I never agreed to it. And anyway, it’s not true. We didn’t have sex that night.”

“You say it was his idea. So you knew about it,” said Tom.

“Yes, but like I said—”

“Why should we believe anything you say, Ms. Howe? We know you’re a liar. That is your current address?”

Caitlyn couldn’t think straight. How could Frankie have done this without her knowledge? She squeezed her eyes shut, took some deep breaths.

“This Mr.... Denham. You’ve known him how long?”

She opened her eyes again, felt tears pricking at the backs of them. “Three or four years? And only occasionally—he’s away a lot.”

“What is his profession?”

“He manages a band. Chaos.”

“Apt,” said Harry. “Inspired by your life?”

It was a relief to hear his voice. It gave her courage to speak up.

“Harry, you know I’d never do something like this. I’ve split up with Frankie. I can’t stand him. He’s a parasite. I’ve been trying to get him to leave, but—”

“Caitlyn, I have no interest in your grubby little life.” As he finally met her eyes, she saw the wounded bear within. She wanted to reach out, to comfort, to try once more to explain. But as she went to stand, he said, his voice cold with suppressed rage, “I’m going to leave now. Tom will be telling you that unlessRock Godreplaces you immediately, Rose Air will be canceling their sponsorship.”

He headed toward the door. “And as you know, Rose Corp.’s influence in the media is not insubstantial. Therefore don’t be surprised if work dries up for you.”

He stopped, his hand on the door handle. The wounded bear was gone, and now there was only contempt. “Honest to god,” he said, “I don’t know what I was thinking, marrying you. And you can tell your low-life boyfriend that if he eventhinksabout sharing that photo with the media, not only will I know about it and stop publication, but the Russian gentleman in the photograph, who likes to keep strict control over his image, would be only too pleased to make sure that one of Mr. Denham’s small-time drug deals goes horribly wrong. Deaths in that line of work are of course only too common.”

Caitlyn felt the blood drain from her face. “Harry, you have to listen to me, please!”

But he was already walking out the door.

“HARRY!” she shouted, losing control. She started to cry.

“Ms. Howe, calm yourself,” said Tom. “Let’s get this cleared up so we can all get on with our lives, hm?”

She turned on him. “I’m telling you, I had nothing to do with this. You’re a lawyer. Aren’t you supposed to defend people until they’re proved guilty or something?” She swiped the tears from her cheeks.