When Helen arrived home, the house was blazing and the fire brigade struggled for control. The study, hall, and part of the staircase had been gutted. David Lyons’s papers had fed the fire, and charred documents fluttered in the chilly afternoon air. Helen, now faced with the destruction of her home, became so hysterical that her doctor had to sedate her.
Christina put down the phone, stunned.
“Who was that?” de Jersey asked.
“It was Helen. Said that the house was on fire when she got home. Started in the study. All of David’s papers were destroyed. Does that matter to you?”
“I don’t suppose so. Whatever documents he had I’ll have copies of.”
“She asked me if I knew these other investors, Driscoll and Wilcox.”
“She asked me the same thing. I’ve never heard of them. I wish she’d just leave it alone.”
Sylvia helped Helen into her car. “You’ll stay with me until it’s all sorted out.”
“I’m never going back to that house.”
“You won’t have to. I’ll get all your clothes and anything you want to put into storage. The estate agents aren’t worried-you could repair the house to sell, or sell it as it is.”
A couple of hours later they were in London. Sylvia Hewitt had a large flat in St. John’s Wood, overlooking Regent’s Park. Eight years Helen’s junior, she had never married. The apartment was spacious, with three bedrooms, and tastefully furnished. Sylvia hurried around, making up a bed, then setting a tray with tea, scrambled egg, and smoked salmon for Helen.
Helen leaned back on her pillows. She was simply too devastated to talk.
“Eat up. You’re going to fall down a crack in the pavement you’re so thin,” Sylvia said, puffing on a cigarette as she wandered restlessly around the room. “Bit odd that the fire started in David’s office,” she remarked. She started hanging her sister’s discarded clothes in the wardrobe.
“I think the window was open, and I must have left the fire on and some papers blew onto it.”
Sylvia stubbed out her cigarette. “Suppose there was information in David’s files that someone wanted to keep secret?”
“What do you mean?”
Sylvia folded her arms. “This Alex Moreno guy seems very dodgy. My detective, Matheson, can’t find him anywhere. All that money poured into leadingleisurewear and he just disappears? Matheson thinks something smells.”
Helen sighed. “I don’t know, Sylvia. I’m so tired.”
Sylvia removed the tray. Her sister had hardly touched the food.
“You’ll feel differently when you can think straight. I won’t let it go. You’ve lost a lot of money.”
“It wasn’t just me, you know. Edward de Jersey lost millions too, but he isn’t interested in doing anything about it. Didn’t want to hear about the private detective.”
“Maybe he can afford to lose the odd million.”
Helen sat up. “He lost a lot more than a few million, and it was mostly David’s fault. He could have advised them to get out when he knew it was heading for a fall. Instead he encouraged them to put up more money and…” She hesitated. “Edward had been his friend for twenty-odd years, and he trusted him implicitly. I think David made some illegal transactions. I found correspondence between David and this man Moreno and some documents from a private account. I think David took some of that money and was encouraging Edward to keep investing more and-”
“Helen, what if Alex Moreno didn’t want those papers floating around? What if he started the fire? I think we should contact all the people who lost their fortunes. I mean, maybe de Jersey has so much money he doesn’t need what he lost, but the others might.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“Get some sleep. Don’t think about any of it-leave it to me. Daniel from David’s office is coming by to talk about a few things.”
Once Sylvia left the room, she called Victor Matheson, the private investigator, and informed him about the fire and her suspicions.
“You could be right, ma’am. Here’s what I’ve got so far: Alex Moreno left the hotel in the Hamptons early on the morning after his arrival. He was driving the Lexus, which I’m also trying to track down. The building contractors say Moreno’s business adviser was a Philip Simmons. Ring any bells?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Canadian? Tall, over six feet, red hair and a mustache?”
“Still no. My sister met with one of the investors, Edward de Jersey. He lost millions. His details are in the file I sent you. He didn’t seem interested in discovering Moreno’s whereabouts.”
“He must be stinking rich if he doesn’t give a shit about finding where all the money’s disappeared to.”
“Continue your inquiries for now,” Sylvia said. “I’ll be in touch again shortly. I plan to contact the other investors. If Mr. de Jersey isn’t interested in taking this matter further, maybe one of them will be. I’m determined to salvage my brother-in-law’s savings.”
The doorbell rang almost immediately after she hung up. She let in Daniel Gatley, David’s assistant, who held a briefcase.
“I have the information you asked for.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Helen doesn’t know I’ve lost money as well. It may not seem like a lot in comparison, but it was my life savings-two hundred and fifty thousand.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe that fire was an accident. It’s odd that it started in David’s study and that his papers fueled it. Helen says she might have left the fire on and a window open, but that doesn’t make sense.”
Daniel opened his briefcase. He looked uncomfortable. “This is all I could find on the main investors, but I shouldn’t let these documents out of the office. They’re confidential.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Daniel, there is no office now. But if anyone asks I’ll say David left them here.”
He took out the files and placed them on the table. “Does Helen know?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nobody knows, apart from you,” she said. She covered her face with her hands for what seemed a long period. “I miss him so much. I’ve had to look after Helen when all I wanted to do was curl up and cry.”
“I know David cared deeply for you,” Daniel said awkwardly.
“Yes, I know he did too. But he lost my life savings and I’ve got to do something about it. Do you think Moreno could have had anything to do with the fire at the house? It’s all very convenient, isn’t it?”
“Well,” Daniel said, “I’ve got the files here for the other investors, apart from Edward de Jersey. After David’s death, he came and took everything out of the office. David had put everything on disk for him.”
Sylvia opened a drawer. “I have some disks too, which David left here, so I know just how much de Jersey lost.”
Daniel nodded to the files he had brought. “Details of the small investors plus the other two main ones.”
She snatched the top sheet of notes from him. “Driscoll and Wilcox,” she read. “I’ll concentrate on them.”
Daniel stood up to leave. He pulled a Jiffy bag out of his briefcase and handed it to her. “Just a few personal items from David’s desk that I thought Helen or you might like to keep.”
“Thank you for coming over. And for keeping my secret. Helen hasn’t the slightest idea about David and me. I don’t know what it would do to her if she did find out.”
Daniel nodded. At the door, he paused and turned. “Sylvia, I wouldn’t bring this arson thing to anyone’s attention. The police will be looking into the fire because of David’s suicide, and if there is any hint that it wasn’t an accident, the insurance won’t pay out. As you said, Helen has been through enough already.”
9
Sylvia contacted James Wilcox first-his unlisted telephone number had been in David’s file. “I’m David Lyons’s sister-in-law,” she told him. “My sister Helen has asked me to help her sort out David’s financial problems in connection with the Internet company leadingleisurewear. I believe you were one of the main investors and suffered considerable losses.”