After two numbers Jo was ready to sit one out, except that seating was not a feature of Cliffs. Rick and Gemma joined her at the ledge where they had stowed their drinks. Bangers and mash and some kind of risotto were now being handed out by the peacocks, all included in the cover price. Rick took a large plateful, and the girls regretted the pizza they’d had.
‘I didn’t know this place existed,’ Jo said.
‘You like it?’
‘Love it. For a special night out it’s ideal. Wicked. Jongleurs will never seem the same.’
‘Slick marketing,’ Rick said in his man-about-town voice. ‘People of our age are going to go for this, and we have the money to splash out-well, Gemma does. But have you noticed the sprinkling of under-twenties, all bright-eyed and beautiful? I wouldn’t mind betting they’re on complimentary tickets.’
‘To glam up the ambience? You could be right.’
‘I bet they’re models on ten times our salary,’ Gemma said.
‘Or city traders earning millions,’ Jo said.
‘But we’re not envious, are we?’ Rick said. ‘We’re achievers, too. It’s just that our talents aren’t rewarded.’
‘What talents are those?’ Gemma said.
‘Show you later.’ He gave a sexy smirk and Jo felt like the hanger-on she’d not wanted to become. She was already thinking about strategies for leaving.
Out of Rick’s hearing range, Gemma said, ‘Promises, promises.’
Another band was playing. A heavier beat.
‘Let’s you and me strut our stuff and leave him to finish his nosh,’ Gemma said, taking Jo’s hand. ‘Sally’s Sunday lunch couldn’t have been much, judging by the amount he’s wolfing down.’
‘If you two want to be alone I can slip away any time,’ Jo offered.
‘Don’t you dare. We’re a threesome. End of story-unless you get lucky with one of these millionaires.’
Jo laughed. ‘Better exercise my hips, then.’ She appreciated Gemma’s friendship, and when the music stopped insisted on ordering the champagne she’d promised, in spite of Gemma warning her it would cost an arm and a leg in this place. She used her credit card and avoided looking at the tab.
They went back to Rick.
‘Still struggling with that risotto?’ Gemma said.
‘Second helping.’
‘You won’t be fit for anything. Look, Jo’s bought some fizz to help it go down. We’re on a bender now.’
Jo filled the three glasses and said, ‘Here’s to the birthday girl. I think we should all make a wish. I’m going to wish Gemma not only keeps her job, but gets promoted to manager.’
Rick said, ‘I’ll drink to that.’
‘No you won’t,’ Gemma said. ‘Not before you’ve told us your wish.’
‘All right.’ He squeezed his eyes for inspiration. ‘I wish to bring you guys here on my next birthday.’
‘When’s that?’ Jo said.
‘August.’
‘Nearly a year away.’
‘I need time to save up. What’s your wish, Gem?’
She giggled a bit and gave Rick a look. ‘I wish… I wish that we get away with it.’
‘With what?’ Jo said.
Rick’s eyes had narrowed menacingly.
Gemma said to him, ‘Are you going to tell her, or shall I?’
He gave an impatient sigh and looked away.
‘It is my birthday.’
Rick said, ‘This is between you and me.’
‘How can it be? We all discussed it.’ She turned to Jo. ‘Rick’s too modest. He did the business.’
‘I don’t know what you’re on about,’ Jo said.
‘He did away with Denis Cartwright. Totalled him.’
‘Your boss?’ Jo felt the blood draining from her veins.
‘But the beauty part is-go on, Rick, tell her what you did.’
He was silent.
‘Tell her.’
With distinct reluctance, Rick said, ‘This mustn’t go any further. Cartwright is no more. Literally. After I’d bashed him I took the body to a paper mill in Kent. I know it because I once did a survey there. He went into the pulping mechanism. There’s nothing left of him. No clues. Nothing.’
Gemma added, ‘Which is why it was so comical in the Slug last night when Rick said he was tomorrow’s news. Geddit? Mr Cartwright’s in the paper.’ She shook with laughter.
Jo didn’t laugh. She’d just heard a confession of murder and she was appalled. She couldn’t believe Gemma found it funny. A man was dead.
‘As a matter of fact, he’d only just told me when you came along. Well, shortly before Jake arrived. He’d been holding out all this time. I wouldn’t play poker with him if I were you. Lighten up, darling,’ Gemma told her. ‘Drink up and have a good laugh.’
‘How can you say that?’ Jo said. ‘You must be out of your mind.’
Rick turned to Gemma and said, ‘Didn’t I warn you?’
Gemma said, ‘Don’t make an issue out of this, Jo.’
‘Don’t make an issue!’ Jo hurled the words back as her shock found an outlet in anger. ‘Have a good laugh? I don’t think so!’
‘You knew it was being talked about. You joined in. We’re the Headhunters, the three of us and Jake.’
‘Don’t involve me in this,’ Jo said. ‘Or Jake. We were joking when we said those things. It was never serious.’
‘It was for me, ducky. I had to put up with sodding Cartwright every day. You didn’t even meet him, so you don’t have to feel sorry for him.’
‘Feel sorry! What I feel isn’t important. This is cold-blooded murder, Gem. It’s a crime, the worst of all crimes, taking someone’s life. I don’t care who he was, you can’t do that.’
‘It’s a bit bloody late to be saying so.’
‘I’d have said the same thing when we first discussed it if I’d believed you had the slightest intention of carrying it out.’
‘I was serious,’ Rick said. ‘Did anyone see me laughing at the time?’
Gemma took him by the arm and looked admiringly into his face. ‘He said he could carry out the perfect murder, and now he’s proved it.’
‘Just as long as nobody shops us,’ Rick said.
Jo was getting the shakes. She put her glass on the ledge. ‘I can’t stay and listen to you two. I’m leaving.’
‘You want to ruin everything?’ Gemma said, red-faced.
‘It wasn’t me who ruined it.’
Rick said, ‘Keep this to yourself, Jo.’
She felt like spitting in his murderous face. Without another word she turned and walked off, out of the dance area, across the foyer, and towards the fresh air. She needed some.
Rick shouted after her, ‘Remember what I said. Keep your bloody mouth shut.’
She ran to the nearest taxi and got in. At this time of the evening the last hovercraft had left. The only way back to the mainland was by the ferry a couple of miles west of Ryde. That had always been their intended route home. The steamships sailed into the small hours.
Grateful that the driver wasn’t the talkative sort, Jo huddled in the back, gripping her arms, and tried to get control of her thoughts. The way Gemma and Rick had spoken about the killing and disposal of Denis Cartwright-as if it was something to be proud of-was chilling. To be strictly truthful, it was Gemma who’d wanted to crow about the murder. She’d had to force the admission from Rick. Yet it was obvious from the way he’d spoken that he, too, thought of it as some sort of achievement, the so-called perfect murder.
They’d been expecting congratulations.
How do you get into a mindset like that? Horrible as it was to contemplate, the killing must have been kindled out of their relationship. Rick had done it to please Gemma. He must have. He had nothing personal against Mr Cartwright. Like Jo herself, Rick didn’t know the man when they’d all talked in that ludicrous way about methods of disposing of him.
Gemma had said more than once that she hadn’t yet slept with Rick. Had she offered sex as the reward for killing her boss? The thought was grotesque, but what else could have motivated Rick? Arrogant as he was, he hadn’t stooped to murder just to prove a point.