Elizabeth feels her phone buzz and sees she has a message from Donna. Sorry, Donna, you’ll have to wait, we’re cracking a case here. It’s been strange. A whole case without Donna or Chris involved.
‘Well, this is jolly,’ says Davey Noakes. ‘Shall we start with some idle gossip?’
Joyce takes him at his word. ‘I was just watching Flog I–’
But Joanna clearly wants to take the responsibility of the alpha chair seriously. ‘Why did you and Holly Lewis meet at The Compound that Thursday morning?’
That’s certainly not where Elizabeth would have started things; you need to dance around a little first. That’s where Joyce was so usefuclass="underline" she has a capacity for small talk that Elizabeth has always lacked. But Joanna has been very successful in her field, and perhaps in the world of hedge funds one simply came straight out and said things.
‘Straight in, then,’ says Davey.
‘It’s an easy question,’ replies Joanna.
There’s a time and a place for this sort of approach, certainly. Elizabeth remembers that a passenger had once slipped through Heathrow with a case full of enriched uranium and delivered it to a London hotel. Once they had tracked down this courier, directness was a necessity, what with the prospect of nuclear capability falling into the hands of a criminal gang, and so his interview had been fairly direct. Direct and robust. But Elizabeth’s not sure if the same principles apply here.
Davey gives Joanna a curious look. ‘This doesn’t, automatically, feel like it’s any of your business.’
Davey, it seems, agrees with Elizabeth.
‘I’ve invited you into my house,’ says Davey. ‘It’s late, and there are rather a lot of you. I’d be even more annoyed if you hadn’t brought the eye candy.’
He cocks a thumb at Ibrahim, and Ibrahim says, ‘I moisturize.’
‘I’ll say you do,’ says Davey.
Okay, Elizabeth, put your brain into gear and see how it runs.
‘Quite right,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Joanna has questions for you, which we all want the answers to, but perhaps, in the circumstances, you might have questions for us first? Forgive me, Joanna.’
Elizabeth gives a slight bow of the head to Joanna, in deference to the alpha armchair. You have to be careful with people. But Elizabeth sees no defensiveness, and no pushback, just an understanding nod in return. Joanna is smart enough to read a situation in an instant and to let somebody else take a different approach. Behind the directness and toughness, Joanna has her mother’s lightning-rod empathy. No wonder she’s so rich.
‘Thank you,’ says Davey to Elizabeth, and, just like that, the alpha seat is in the middle of the sofa, between a sleepy nurse and a university professor wearing odd socks. Elizabeth sees Ibrahim give her a little wink.
‘I don’t suppose you have the Bitcoin?’ Davey asks.
‘We do,’ says Elizabeth.
‘You cracked both codes?’
‘We did,’ Elizabeth confirms.
‘How did you manage that?’
‘A number of different techniques,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Bit of creative imagination, bit of brute force. Was there luck involved? Well, I daresay you need luck in this business. But I find sometimes that the harder you work, the luckier you get.’
He looks very pleased with his contribution, and that makes Elizabeth happy.
‘And where is it now?’ Davey asks. ‘Do you have plans to sell it?’
‘Would you be in the market to buy it if we did?’ This is Joanna again – not a bad question.
‘Me? No,’ says Davey. ‘But I’d be keen to know that it’s safe?’
Wouldn’t we all, thinks Elizabeth.
‘It’s quite safe,’ says Elizabeth.
Davey turns to Joyce. ‘You were saying something about Flog It!’
‘Only that someone brought in Victorian pornography,’ says Joyce. ‘I missed what it went for, but even so.’
Elizabeth’s phone buzzes. Donna again.
‘Five grand,’ says Davey. ‘I was watching the end because I didn’t want to miss South East Tonight.’
‘I’ve put South East Tonight on pause, because these two arrived in the middle of it,’ says Joyce, putting her hand on Paul’s arm. ‘This is my son-in-law.’
‘Lovely,’ says Davey. ‘And does he have a name?’
‘Paul,’ says Paul.
‘It’s the button with two parallel lines,’ says Joyce.
Elizabeth sees Joanna start to fidget. It is important not to be too direct sometimes, but it’s also possible to swing too far the other way.
‘Any other questions?’ Joanna asks.
‘So if you’re not selling it,’ says Davey, ‘what’s the big plan?’
Elizabeth takes this. ‘We simply want to use it to find Holly’s killer, and perhaps discover what on earth has happened to Nick Silver.’
‘Well, I can help you with both of those,’ says Davey.
There is safety in numbers, certainly, but if Davey Noakes chooses to kill them all he would be well able.
‘Let me make us all a cup of tea,’ says Davey. ‘Joyce, you can come through to the kitchen and we can have a natter about South East Tonight? I have such a crush on Mike Waghorn.’
Joyce doesn’t need asking twice and pushes herself up, leaning on Elizabeth’s arm. How pathetically delicate the two of them feel, how their bones show themselves these days.
There is a third message from Donna.
‘And when we come back,’ says Davey, ‘I’ll tell you exactly who killed Holly Lewis.’
‘And where Nick Silver is?’ Elizabeth asks.
‘I can’t tell you for sure,’ says Davey, taking Joyce’s arm. ‘But I suspect the two are very much connected.’
66
Ron sits in the darkness and waits. The lights are off, the curtains drawn. A casual observer would think there was nobody home, but Ron knows he was followed. He’s frightened, because what if? What if?
But Ron is tired of being frightened.
‘You’re sure I can’t make you a cup of tea?’ Pauline asks.
‘Shh!’ says Ron. He told Pauline she shouldn’t be here, with what’s about to happen. But it’s her flat, and she’s Pauline, so she’s staying put. Ron has also told her that’s she’s not allowed to play bingo on her phone while he’s hiding, and, because of the prospect of gunfire, she has agreed.
They hear footsteps in the hallway. Ron motions to the bedroom.
‘Good luck, lover,’ says Pauline, and kisses him on the top of the head before slipping away to leave him there alone.
Ron wonders where the others are. They’ll be worried, he knows that. Ron’s phone is off, but Joyce has been ringing Pauline. Pauline has had to lie to her and tell her she doesn’t know where Ron is.
Ron didn’t like asking Pauline to lie, but Pauline said not to worry, and that she enjoyed it. He’s found a good one there.
The whole gang would be straight round if they knew where he was. And Elizabeth would blow her top if she knew what he was about to do.
They’d all blow their tops.
So much of what he’s about to do would upset them. But that’s okay. They weren’t just the Thursday Murder Club, were they? They were four people, with their own stories, and, right now, Ron has his own story to tell. The story of an old man who still wants to prove he can protect his family. Even if it kills him.
He hears what he has been waiting for, somebody picking the lock on Pauline’s front door. Ron closes his hand around a small piece of paper worth a quarter of a billion pounds. He slips it into the right-hand pocket of his jeans, before remembering himself, and transferring it to the left-hand pocket.