Deception and Desire Page 11

  Useless for Brendan to protest that Ros had not been at his flat since before Christmas – the scarf proved otherwise.

  Oh my God, Ros, what has he done to you? Maggie wondered, and felt her stomach close with dread.

  The very first public telephone booth she saw, Maggie stopped the car and put a call through to Mike’s school.

  Luckily it was the lunch hour, she knew he would not be teaching now, but it took some time for the secretary who answered the phone to locate him and Maggie had used up almost all her small change feeding the meter before he came on the line.

  ‘Mike – thank goodness!’ She was trembling with anxiety, the receiver sticking to her moist palm.

  ‘Maggie! Is something wrong?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ She forced her voice to sound reasonably normal. ‘But I think it might be. I’ve just been to see Brendan.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Oh, he told me he hadn’t seen Ros for months. But he was lying, Mike. Her scarf was there, in his flat.’

  ‘Scarf? What scarf?’

  ‘The one I sent her for her birthday last month. She’s been there, and recently. I’m going to the police now, to tell them about it, but I wanted you to know first. And to ask you which police station I should report to. Who is dealing with the case?’

  ‘The local divisional HQ. But to be frank, Maggie, I don’t think they’ll be interested.’

  ‘What do you mean – not interested?’

  The digital display on the telephone was flashing again. Maggie fed her last ten-pence piece into it.

  ‘They rang me earlier on. There’s been a development. They’ve found Ros’s car.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘That’s just it. It was in the car park outside Bristol Temple Meads railway station. The car park attendants say it’s been there for more than a week and the police seem to think that confirms their theory that Ros has simply gone off somewhere.’

  ‘But she wouldn’t!’

  ‘Try telling them that. With her car sitting outside a main-line station it does seem to point to her having taken a train.’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘Tell them about the scarf if you like but I think you’ll be banging your head against a brick wall.’

  ‘What are we to do then?’ Maggie asked desperately.

  ‘Have you been to Vandina?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘I think you should. I keep thinking about what she said about something odd going on there. It’s possible it does have some bearing on her disappearance. And someone like Dinah Marshall might be able to throw some light on it.’

  ‘But the scarf …’

  ‘Could be leading us up a blind alley. There was no other sign of Ros being there?’

  ‘No, but …’

  ‘It’s not much to go on then, is it? And if she’s not there now we’re no further on. I think you could be overreacting, Maggie. Go and see Dinah, see what you can find out there, and we’ll talk again tonight.’

  ‘But …’

  But the display was showing zero again and before she could finish, the line disconnected. Maggie stood for a moment looking at the telephone as if it might reconnect her to Mike by magic, then she hung up and walked back to her car.

  She felt a little calmer now. Just talking to Mike had made her feel better, and perhaps he was right. Perhaps she was over-reacting. The fact that Brendan had lied to her didn’t necessarily mean he was hiding something sinister. It could simply be that for some reason he didn’t want her to know that Ros had been to see him. But still she was uneasy. All very well for Mike to take the sensible, unmelodramatic point of view. He didn’t know Brendan as she did. And he seemed to have it in his head that they might find the reason behind Ros’s disappearance at Vandina.

  Was it possible he had something there? Had something happened that had upset her so much she had simply taken off for a few days? Her car had been found at the railway station, Mike had said, and that certainly pointed to her driving herself there and leaving by train. As for the suitcase – perhaps she had treated herself to a new one, or taken an overnight bag and then stayed away longer than she had intended, unable to bring herself to return and face … whatever it was that was troubling her.

  But whatever it was, why hadn’t she confided in Mike? He had been away when she left, it was true, but she had already mentioned ‘something funny going on’ – why hadn’t she explained further? Mike was the easiest person in the world to talk to, Maggie thought, straightforward, easy-going, with plenty of sound common sense – the very opposite of her own explosive, impatient husband who was totally unsympathetic to anything which did not directly concern him. And surely whatever the reason for her going, Ros could have got in touch with Mike since his return – unless something was dreadfully wrong.

  Maggie realised she had begun to tremble again.

  She started the car, trying to subdue the feeling of rising panic.

  She would drive over to Vandina now, she thought, and see what she could find out there before going to the police with the evidence of the scarf.

  Resolutely she pulled out from the kerb into the heavy traffic and concentrated on finding the right lane to take her out of town once more.

  Chapter Seven

  The Vandina factory and office block, architect-designed to be both functional and aesthetically pleasing, stood in open countryside on the outskirts of a small village. As Maggie pulled into the spacious car park the bright June sunshine seemed to be reflected from endless panes of glass, and from the landscaped gardens which surrounded the car park the scent of hundreds of rose bushes perfumed the air.

  Maggie locked up her hired Metro and went in through the main entrance. A receptionist seated behind a polished wood desk looked up and smiled at her.

  ‘Good afternoon. Can I help?’

  ‘I’d like to see Dinah Marshall,’ Maggie said.

  The receptionist’s smile became a little more fixed.

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  ‘No, I don’t, but I was hoping to see her anyway. I’m Maggie Veritos, Ros Newman’s sister.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Clearly she did not, but Ros’s name carried weight anyway. ‘I’m terribly sorry but I’m afraid Miss Marshall isn’t in at the moment. She had a lunch appointment and she hasn’t returned yet. And when she does I believe she will be tied up in meetings. Could her secretary help you, perhaps?’

  Maggie hesitated. It wasn’t what she wanted but if Dinah Marshall wasn’t here it might be an option.

  ‘Well, possibly …’ she demurred.

  The receptionist lifted the receiver of a dove-grey telephone and dialled a number.

  ‘Liz – I have Ros Newman’s sister here in reception. She wanted to see Miss Marshall but I have suggested perhaps you might be able to help.’

  Liz – the person who had telephoned and left a message on Ros’s answering machine. She could do worse, Maggie thought.

  ‘Thank you, Liz.’ The receptionist replaced the receiver and smiled at Maggie again. She was clearly either a very bright-natured girl or else she had been trained to do a lot of smiling, Maggie decided. ‘If you’d like to go through, up the stairs, turn left and it’s the third door on the right.’

  Maggie followed the directions, her feet sinking into the pile of a luxurious carpet of deep blue. As she reached the head of the stairs a door away to her left opened and a pretty but rather plump girl wearing a smart navy-blue coat-dress came out.

  ‘You must be Ros’s sister. I can tell that just by looking at you.’

  ‘I didn’t know we were that much alike,’ Maggie said.

  ‘Well, perhaps you’re not. But I can certainly see the likeness. Do come in.’

  She led the way into a square office. Like the corridor it was carpeted in blue. The walls were lined with filing cabinets, pine-faced, not metal, and above them hung framed prints of some of the most successful Vandina advertisements and one or two
original design sketches. The girl plumped down in her own swivel chair and indicated a blue-leather upholstered chair drawn up at right angles to the desk.

  ‘Have a seat. I’m Liz Christopher.’

  ‘Maggie Veritos.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Maggie. What can I do for you?’

  ‘It’s Ros. No one seems to know where she is. I was wondering if you could help.’

  Liz shook her head, dark hair bouncing about her round, pretty face.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t. She’s not here. She called in and said she needed to take emergency leave.’

  ‘She didn’t say why?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Quite sure. I took the call myself. She didn’t give any explanation at all.’

  Maggie chewed at her lip. Liz must have been the last person to speak to Ros before she went … wherever she had gone.

  ‘How did she sound?’ she asked. ‘I mean, was she upset?’

  Liz considered. ‘Not upset, exactly. A bit strained, perhaps. But then she had been strained for a few days.’

  ‘Do you know why that was?’

  ‘Not for sure. She had been under a certain amount of pressure.’

  ‘What sort of pressure? You see the reason I ask is that she had told Mike Thompson, her boyfriend, that there was something odd going on here but she didn’t say what it was. I was wondering if you might know.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Liz’s plump cheeks turned a gentle shade of pink. ‘Well, I don’t know that I ought to talk about that … it’s really very awkward –’ She broke off suddenly as a door to an inner office opened and a young man emerged. Tall, fair, stunningly good-looking in a striped shirt and chinos, he seemed to dominate the office. Liz’s flush deepened and she became overtly flustered.

  ‘What is awkward, Liz?’ he asked. There was a slight transatlantic twang to his voice, Maggie noticed. Then, without waiting for an answer, he swung his gaze to Maggie, piercing blue eyes offset by a smile that could almost take your breath away. ‘ I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Steve Lomax, Dinah Marshall’s son.’

  Maggie was surprised. She hadn’t known Dinah had a son. No reason why she should, of course, but she didn’t think she could ever remember having heard Ros mention him.

  ‘Maggie Veritos, Ros Newman’s sister.’

  ‘Yes, I gathered that.’ His voice, his whole manner, was pleasant, but was there something guarded in those startlingly blue eyes? ‘Do I understand you’ve come here looking for Ros?’

  ‘Not looking for her in the way you mean. I realise she’s not here. But I am trying to find out her whereabouts. I’m very concerned about her.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand. Why are you concerned about Ros?’

  Another disbeliever, Maggie thought wearily. Aloud, she said: ‘No one seems to know where she is. I was hoping someone here might have some idea.’

  Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘ Who, exactly?’

  ‘Well – anyone. Anyone Ros might have talked to or confided in.’

  ‘I have already explained we are totally in the dark,’ Liz put in. ‘I took Ros’s call and she didn’t say anything by way of explanation to me.’ She was still looking extremely hot and bothered, Maggie thought, and she clearly had no intention of finishing whatever she had been about to say when Steve Lomax had put in his appearance.

  ‘I was rather hoping Ros might have mentioned something of her plans to your mother,’ Maggie said. ‘They are quite close, I imagine.’

  A corner of Steve’s mouth twisted. ‘You imagine right. As a PA Ros is invaluable to my mother, who is not actually the most efficient person in the world. Ros organises her beautifully. But I don’t think Dinah has any more idea where Ros is than the rest of us. She’s pretty miffed with her at the moment, actually, for leaving her in the lurch, as she sees it.

  Maggie nodded. ‘ I’d still have liked to speak to her myself, though. There might be something … could I make an appointment, perhaps?’

  ‘Her diary is very full …’ Liz began defensively.

  ‘I wouldn’t take up much of her time. Surely if she’s missing Ros it would be as much in her interests as anyone’s to try and track her down.’

  ‘Well this afternoon is right out, I’m afraid. And tomorrow …’

  ‘I have a far better idea,’ Steve said. ‘We are having a small dinner party tomorrow evening. Why don’t you come and meet my mother then?’

  ‘A private dinner party? Oh no, thank you, but I couldn’t possibly intrude.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be. It will only be my mother, Don Kennedy, her accountant, Jayne Peters-Browne, the new designer, and her husband, and myself. All Vandina people with the exception of Drew Peters-Browne – one of them might be able to shed some light on your problem.’ He smiled, that smile that could turn the hardest-nosed female into a jelly of desire. ‘Actually Ros should have been making up the six. Since she’s not here I would be delighted if you would come in her place, and I know Dinah will agree with me.’

  A slight rustle of papers made Maggie glance at Liz. The secretary was bending over her desk, fiddling conspicuously with a pile of documents and looking rather put out. Perhaps she would have liked to have been invited to dinner in Ros’s place, Maggie thought.

  ‘Well, can we make it a date?’ The look in Steve’s eyes might almost have been a challenge. ‘ Unless, of course, you have other arrangements …’

  Maggie made up her mind.

  ‘No – I don’t. And thank you, I’d be very pleased to accept your invitation.’

  ‘Good. Do you have your own transport or shall I send a car for you? In fact, that might be an idea in any case. Then you’ll be able to have a drink without worrying about having to drive. Where are you staying?’

  Maggie frowned slightly, wondering how Steve knew she was ‘staying’ anywhere. Unless of course Ros had talked about her sister in Corfu. That must be it.

  ‘At Ros’s cottage,’ she said. ‘You know where that is?’

  ‘I do. I’ll have the car pick you up at around seven. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m trying to wade through some of my mother’s paperwork – one of the jobs Ros would normally do. And Liz – give me five minutes and then bring your notebook in, if you would. I’d like to dictate some letters.’

  The dismissal was polite but firm. That young man knows what he wants and goes for it, Maggie thought.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Lomax, I’ll look forward to it,’ she said.

  In the doorway he turned, cool glance appraising.

  ‘So will I. And please, do call me Steve.’

  ‘Can you find your own way out?’ Liz asked. ‘Perhaps I’d better show you.’

  ‘There’s no need. I’m sure I can manage.’

  ‘It’s no trouble.’

  She accompanied a rather bewildered Maggie down the stairs and out of the building into the car park, where it quickly became obvious that there was something she wanted to say.

  ‘Mrs Veritos, you were asking me just now if I knew what Ros has been so screwed up about lately.’ She hesitated. ‘I couldn’t talk then because Steve was in the next room and I’m not really sure I should say anything at all. But as you are Ros’s sister I suppose it would be all right for me to trust you with it … and if it might help you to find Ros … though I can’t honestly see what it could have to do with her disappearing …’

  ‘What?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Well …’ Liz glanced around, as if to make sure no one was within earshot, then went on: ‘Ros thought there might be a mole at Vandina.’

  ‘A mole?’

  ‘An industrial spy – checking out our sales figures and contacts on behalf of some third party, even making copies of designs and project sheets for new ideas and passing them back to whoever it is that really employs them. It sounds far-fetched, I know, like James Bond or something, but it does happen. Competition in any industry is very fierce; in the fashion world it can be absolutely cu
t-throat. It’s so terribly important to be the first with original ideas, you see – anyone who can forecast a trend and get in ahead of the field is going to make a killing. Vandina have been leaders for so long now it’s almost inevitable that they suffer from this kind of espionage from time to time. Ros believed it’s happening now – and I think she may be right. This morning one of our competitors, a new firm called Reubens, broke cover with an idea for a range of bags to be launched in the spring that is practically an exact copy of Dinah’s latest idea. It could be coincidence, of course, but I don’t actually think that’s the case. I think Ros was right – there is someone in a position of trust here at Vandina who is actually working for another company – probably Reubens.’

  She stopped, flushed and breathless, and Maggie stared at her in frank amazement.

  ‘Good heavens! That’s creepy! But why should it have anything to do with Ros disappearing?’

  Liz shook her head. ‘I honestly don’t know. But you asked me what she was worried about and I’m suggesting a reason. Look – I’ll have to go. Steve wanted me for dictation and I’d rather he didn’t know I’d been talking to you about this. It’s terribly sensitive.’ She hesitated, that ready flush deepening again. ‘Oh, and Mrs Veritos, please – would you mind not mentioning this to Miss Marshall when you meet her tomorrow evening? I know for a fact Ros didn’t want her to know anything about it until she was certain who the mole was. Dinah can get in a dreadful state about things – Ros tries to protect her as far as possible.’

  ‘But surely she’ll have to know?’

  ‘Eventually, yes. She already knows Reubens have duplicated her idea. When it was in the newspaper this morning I was bound to bring it to her attention. Something like that creates a dreadful situation. There will have to be a major rethink on the whole spring launch, but I’d really rather she didn’t hear the worst of it until Ros is here to break it to her herself.’ She looked over her shoulder nervously. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go. And please, you will treat what I’ve said as absolutely confidential, won’t you?’