Even the remotest possibility of suicide had never crossed her mind before. But it might have been a serious consideration on that awful morning, were it not for her daughter. Kim had been brought up without a father, in the lap of luxury, yes, but by a mother who was all too often preoccupied with her career. Nonetheless Bella loved her daughter dearly, and one thing she could not do was leave her alone. Neither was she at all sure that she could allow Kim to grow up without having a mother whom she could respect. A mother who, ultimately, had tried to do the right thing. Albeit probably too little too late.
However, she might still be wrong in her judgement of the situation she found herself in. And she could end up putting her own future and that of the bank in jeopardy for no good reason. It was the kind of dilemma she had never, in her most nightmarish dreams, imagined having to face.
In spite of everything that had happened, including the events of the last few days, Bella had an intense pride in, and loyalty to, her family and the family business. She had often made it clear she would do anything to protect Fairbrother’s and ensure the future of the bank. She had also always retained huge professional respect, if nothing else, for her father. And it was all of those factors which had combined to lead her to her present lamentable circumstances.
It seemed not to be true, after all, that she would do anything for Fairbrother’s. She had a limit. And she suspected she had reached it. Actually, she may have progressed beyond it. She believed she was partially responsible for three deaths. Three murders. She did not know for certain that there had been three murders, of course, neither did she know if she could be held legally responsible — and in fact she suspected that she could not be, not yet anyway. But her involvement in the complex sequence of events which had led to the fire at Blackdown, and to those three deaths, could surely be proven. In any case, even if she faced neither prosecution nor any other form of restitution, she would have to live with that possibility.
She checked her watch. It was still only 7.30 a.m.. Too early to reasonably make the phone call she found herself pondering. In any case, once she had made that call, she would be setting in motion a chain of unstoppable procedures which could lead irrevocably to her own downfall and that of the bank. She decided to have a long hot shower in an attempt to clear her beleaguered head.
An hour and a half later, showered, dressed, and sitting again on the couch by the window, this time drinking strong coffee and picking at a room-service breakfast, she found that, whilst her head was a little clearer, she remained no less troubled. Should she make that phone call, or not? If she did, there would be no going back. That was for certain.
She switched on the TV, the regional news programme. The lead item was a break in at The Gatehouse at Blackdown Manor. Armed intruders had been seen on the premises. Police were anxious to locate the householder, Mrs Janice Grey, who was missing.
Bella recoiled in shock. The bulletin indicated that the incident had occurred during the night, just a few hours after she had made her phone call from the public box on Whiteball Hill.
Without giving herself any more time to think she picked up her phone and dialled David Vogel’s mobile number.
He answered at once, as seemed to be his wont, in spite of the early hour, for which Bella apologised.
‘Don’t apologise, Miss Fairbrother,’ responded Vogel. ‘I’m running a murder inquiry. There is no early.’
‘Uh right,’ continued Bella. ‘Look, I’ve just seen a news bulletin about a break-in at the Gatehouse. It says Mrs Grey is missing, I was wondering—’
‘She’s safe, Miss Fairbrother,’ said Vogel. ‘She was found soon after daybreak. I believe a media statement is being prepared.’
Bella found herself overcome with relief. She wasn’t sure if she could deal with another death, whoever was responsible.
‘I’m very glad, Mr Vogel,’ she said. ‘Look, I was hoping you might have time to meet up today. I have some information for you, something I would like to discuss with you which I feel I can no longer keep to myself. It’s quite important.’
‘Well, of course,’ replied Vogel. ‘Can you give me any indication of what it might be about?’
‘No, no I can’t,’ said Bella quickly. ‘I need to see you. Face to face. It’s all too, too...’ She paused, searching for the right words. ‘Delicate,’ she finished, rather lamely, she thought.
‘And I sense that it’s urgent?’
‘Yes. It is. Most urgent, I suspect.’
‘I see. Where are you, Miss Fairbrother? Are you still in Somerset?’
Bella replied that she was.
Vogel and Saslow were by then well on their way to London, just ten minutes or so from the junction between the M5 and the M4. Their journey had already been delayed by The Gatehouse incident. Vogel was eager to meet up with Nobby Clarke at Brentford and share details of their investigations.
‘Right, well that’s a tad tricky,’ continued Vogel. ‘Unfortunately, I am on my way to London. There are inquiries I need to conduct in the city, primarily concerning the Greys, and what has happened to both of them. And there is also the post-mortem on George Grey later today. Are you sure you couldn’t at least give me the gist of what you have to say now, on the phone?’
‘No. No, I really can’t. But I’m also travelling back to London today. Indeed, I shall leave quite soon. I could meet you anywhere you like, after about one-ish probably.’
‘Or, I could get another MCIT detective over to you from Wellington straight away—’
‘No, Mr Vogel, I really want to see you,’ interrupted Bella.
She couldn’t quite explain why it had to be David Vogel that she talked to, but she had noticed his intelligent eyes and his thoughtful sensitive manner. She could not bear the thought of confiding in some clumsy plod.
‘OK, the post-mortem is at 1.30 p.m. We could meet as soon as I’ve seen all I need to. That should certainly be by about three, I would have thought, possibly earlier.’
‘Right. Where?’
‘Well, I shall be at the morgue at the West Middlesex hospital. Let me think. You won’t want to come there—’
‘Can you come to me?’ interrupted Bella. ‘I live in Chelsea Harbour. It’s the right side of town from Brentford. We could meet at my flat, then it won’t matter if you are unsure of the time.’
‘All right,’ said Vogel. ‘I shall try to make it by 3.30, but thank you for bearing with me.’
Bella was aware that would probably make her late for her meeting with Jimmy Martins. But, that appointment remained one she might ultimately not wish to keep. She gave Vogel her address and ended the call.
She then tried to return her attention to her breakfast, but had little appetite. Bella Fairbrother was extremely worried. She had no idea whether she was doing the right thing or not. But more and more, it seemed the only course of action she would be able to live with.
She abandoned her breakfast tray and headed for the bathroom to complete her morning routine. She hadn’t yet put on her make-up. Bella never liked to face the world without her make-up, and she had also come to believe over the years that her brain worked better once she was fully made up. On this occasion she didn’t think it would help, but she could only go through the motions.
She’d just opened the bathroom door when her room phone rang. She assumed it was room service or reception calling. Nonetheless, out of habit, she hurried to answer the call.
‘Hello, sis,’ said the still familiar voice of her only brother. ‘Fancy a visitor?’
‘Ah, so you are in the country...’ she began, then a thought occurred to her. ‘You’re calling on the hotel phone. How did you know I was here?’