Cherringham--Follow the Money (11 page)

He was on his way too — but they were sure to get there first.

And now, Jack approached the lighted windows at the back of the cottage, he could see that Alan hadn’t arrived yet.

Through the windows, he saw that his intuition had been right.

Pete Lavender stood, his back to the fireplace, talking fast.

And Terry Goodman stood just feet away, the shotgun pointed at the other man’s chest, his face strained, his whole body taut.

“No sudden moves,” Jack said to Sarah. “Just stay behind me — by the door — okay?”

Then Sarah watched him walk to the side of the house, and gently tap on the door.

*

“Who is it?”

Terry Goodman’s voice. Sounding like he had a drink or two.

“Jack Brennan,” he said. “We need to talk, Terry.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Yes there is. I’m coming in, okay? Things to tell you. Things you need to know.”

Silence.

Jack knew he couldn’t wait for Alan — or for Terry to change his mind.

He had to get in there, start talking.

Because talking could take the sting out of these situations. Sap the energy.

Not every time though …

Breathing slowly, he put his hand on the door handle, turned it — and slowly pushed open the door.

He saw Lavender, face pale. He hadn’t moved. And Terry, back to Jack, not taking his eye off the writer.

Writer?

‘Conman’ was the apt word.

“I say, Jack — am I glad to see you!” said Lavender. “I don’t know what’s going on, some dreadful mistake, this chap—”

“Shut … the hell … up!” said Terry.

Jack saw Terry raise the barrel of the gun so it pointed at Lavender’s face.

“Terry, just take it easy, okay?” said Jack.

“You’re not going to stop me, Brennan. I’ll shoot you too, if I have to.”

“Can’t say I blame you, Terry. But killing this phony isn’t the answer.”

“Phony? But I agree,” said Lavender. “Honestly Jack, there’s been some ridiculous mix-up here, Mr. Goodman seems to have got me confused with—”

Jack stared at Lavender.

“Be quiet. Okay?”

“Okay, okay,” said Lavender.

The man was shaking, standing there …

“Now Terry, tell me. What’s going on?”

“Bastard here’s taken my Claire. Ruined my marriage. Been going on for months. Could tell something was up with her. Must take me for a fool. But I’m not going to let him get away with it.”

“He’s not getting away with anything, Terry. Because he’s done more than damage your marriage — isn’t that right ‘Lavender’. Or is it Mr. Scott? Or — what’s the other name you use, now — heck there’s so many of them, it’s hard to remember …”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Lavender.

“What is all this?” said Terry.

And Jack saw him for the first time momentarily take his eyes off Lavender and turn to him.

“The police are on their way here, Terry — not to arrest you — but to arrest Lavender here.”

“Why?”

“Well, for starters — he’s the guy who robbed your house.”

Jack looked at Lavender. Wisely he’d withdrawn from the conversation.

“But he was sleeping with my Claire—”

“He
used
Claire to get the key code for your security. And if I’m not mistaken, he’s hacked into your laptop — which is upstairs in a closet I believe.”

“How the hell?” said Lavender. “Do you mean you’ve been in my house? Searching through my things? That’s highly—”

“Shut up,” Terry said.

Jack then heard Sarah coming in through the door behind him.

“It’s true. He’d got into your laptop,” said Sarah, “and from what I could see just a few hours ago, he was trying to transfer funds from your business account into his. Well, when I say his — I mean —
one
of his accounts. He has so many.”

“I don’t understand,” said Terry.

“You’ve been conned, Terry,” said Jack. “You
and
Claire together.”

“He fooled her,” said Sarah.

“Made me feel like a fool,” said Terry. “All the stuff she told me about him.”

Jack could hear a distant police siren getting closer.

Running out of time
, he thought.

Gotta fix this now.

“So how about this. How about you don’t let him make
you
another victim,” said Jack. “Put the gun away — and the police won’t ever know about it. I promise …”

“He’s right, Terry,” said Sarah. “Lavender’s going to prison for years. Claire knows now what he did — the lies he spun.”

“Okay? So give us the gun now — the police are going to be here any minute,” said Jack.

“Don’t let him destroy your life,” said Sarah. “He’s done enough damage. And you’ve got Olli and Claire to look after.”

“But he
destroyed
my marriage, he—”

“Come on Terry, you’ve got to do this now,” said Jack.

Then: “You can do it.”

It had to be now, or never — Jack knew that if Alan got here and saw the gun, Terry would be facing charges.

“He’s not worth it,” said Sarah. “Let the legal system take over. He belongs in jail. You don’t.”

Jack watched as Terry turned away from Lavender and stared at them both.

Jack heard the police siren, close now.

“All the time Claire talked about how clever he was,” said Terry. “It just made me realise how stupid or — I dunno — insensitive she thought I was. Always saying the wrong things. Showing her up. Embarrassing her.”

He took a deep breath. “Never interested in her things … like her opera …”

“Terry — you’re the one who’s in the right here,” said Sarah. “And Claire? Well, true — she’s in the wrong. She made a mistake. But she was a victim as well. But you can sort it all out. It can be fixed. Okay? Just hand me the gun.”

Jack saw Sarah hold out her hands to Terry.

An amazing move by his partner.

So brave.

Then — Terry — oh-so-slowly — handed her the shotgun.

She passed it to Jack, who broke it quickly and ejected the cartridges.

Then he handed it back to Sarah.

“If you’re quick, you can get this down to the boat, before Alan sees it.”

“And what if
I
tell the police about the gun?” said Lavender. “How he was going to kill me—”

“You do that,“ said Jack, “and I will tell them that you were the one with the gun. And you had it pointed at us. Isn’t that right, Terry?”

“Dead right.”

“And you will find yourself serving another five years,” said Jack. “On top of the years you’re going to do for this little mess.”

Jack heard the police car pull up outside.

He saw Lavender shrug — and give up.

“Quick as you can, Sarah,” he said.

And he watched her slip out of the side of the house and head down to the boat to hide the evidence.

Jack put his arm on Terry’s shoulder.

“Let’s go find your car so you can go home,” he said. “I do believe I saw you drive by the lane earlier — so I’m guessing you’re parked pretty close.”

“What about me?” said Lavender.

“Oh, the police are going to deal with you,” said Jack. “And I’ll be back in just a minute to do the introductions.”

Sarah grabbed her tray of pre-ordered drinks and gently pushed her way through the interval crowd towards the grand staircase.

The open stairs of the Village Hall were packed. But just as she reached the top she saw the tall figure of Jack in a corner by one of the tall portraits of Cherringham’s Civil War heroes.

Somehow, in the crowd, the hall packed for the concert, he’d managed to find her mother and father.

“Aha! Well done my dear!” said Michael, reaching out to her and handing out the glasses of wine. “Jack said you’d ordered us drinks!”

“I heard the show was a sell-out, so I thought I better had,” said Sarah.

“A toast,” said Jack, raising his glass. “To Helen — and a most wonderful ‘Sempre Libera’
.
Loved it! To Helen!”

“To Helen!”

Sarah’s mother blushed.

“Well really, it’s all in Roger’s direction you know. And the choir of course, tremendous to have them there in support. And the orchestra — a small ensemble, but
so
good.”

“Yes, but Helen — that was very special,” said Jack. “And let me tell you — I’ve been spoilt over the years back in New York, and I have seen some of the greats. That aria is no easy piece, I know.”

“Jack, you’re such a charmer,” said Sarah smiling. “But mum — seriously — you were fantastic. And what an amazing turnout, too.”

The Cherringham Charity Concert was a regular December event — but Sarah had never seen one so well attended.

Jack and Michael started to debate the greatest arias, so Sarah leaned in to her mother.

“I haven’t seen Claire yet,” said Sarah. “Is she okay?”

“I think she’s holding up fine,” said Helen. “Still in shock I believe. But she’s definitely performing in the second half.”

“I heard that Terry had disappeared.”

“Gone. Whether for good or not, nobody knows.”

“I feel responsible.”

“You shouldn’t. And Claire told me she can’t thank you enough. Imagine if that chap had taken all the money out of the business too. You stopped him just in time.”

“I suppose so.”

“Think of all the other people you’ve saved too, Sarah. I hear he’s done the same trick all over the country. So no, you did the right thing, and I’m proud of you. Proud of you too, Jack — there really should be some kind of reward.”

Sarah saw her mother turn to Jack.

“This concert is reward enough Helen,” said Jack. “And that tiramisu I hope you’ve made for our pudding tonight …”

“How could I forget?” said Helen.

“And I picked up a rather nice single malt for you to try too, Jack,” said Michael.

Sarah heard the interval bell ring.

“Enough talk of food,” she said. “Don’t want my stomach rumbling all the way through the second half!”

She put down her glass, and turned with the others to go back into the hall.

As she did, she saw Oliver Goodman standing alone in a corner of the grand hallway.

He wore a jacket and tie and, from the look of it, was drinking a coffee.

He caught her eye, and looked away as if embarrassed.

Good of him to turn up and support mum,
thought Sarah.

She guessed that the events of the last few days must have sent shockwaves through his privileged existence.

Maybe we did do good,
thought Sarah, giving him a nod.

He nodded back in bashful recognition.

As she and Jack took their seats, just a few rows from the front, she leaned close to him.

“You think Claire will be up for it?”

“It’s a tough enough piece at the best of times,” he said. “But in these circumstances — I do hope so …”

And as the orchestra warmed up again and the lights dimmed, Sarah hoped so too.

*

Jack felt a tear trickle from his eye and wiped it away. On stage, he could see Claire — now as Desdemona — moving to the bed and to the unknowing shroud which Emilia her maid prepares for her.

The whole room was totally hushed, spellbound, as the orchestra played out the final notes.

Claire had sung this aria — as the woman wronged — with such passion but with such control.

This last despairing, heart-rending plea, bidding farewell to her maid, the choir lifting her song to an almost unbearable emotional peak.

Desdemona hopeless, fated to die, vowing her love.

Extraordinary.

Jack had no doubt: in another time, another world, Claire Goodman could have been an opera singer.

Maybe a great one.

Who would have thought it, from the self-deprecating woman they’d met just days ago, always putting herself down, wondering if she really fit in.

She was a star.

The last note faded away.

Silence still, as the whole audience breathed in again.

And then a resounding cheer.

“Bravo! Bravo!”

Jack stood, clapping, aware that the whole room was standing too.

The bravos, now louder. The whole room cheering.

He saw Claire rise to her feet from the bed, unable to hide the astonishment in her face, tears flowing. She stepped forward to the front of the stage, stared at the audience, then bowed, and bowed again.

Jack saw his old friend Tony Standish, lawyer and honorary member of half the societies in Cherringham step up on stage, and hand her a bouquet of flowers.

He looked to his side where Sarah was on her feet, tears rolling down her face too.

And then one voice behind him in the audience caught his attention.

He turned and peered through the faces of the wildly applauding and cheering crowd.

The double doors at the back of the hall were now open, spilling light into the room.

And silhouetted against them was the figure of Terry Goodman.

He held his hands high above his head, clapping.

He too was shouting.

“Bravo! Bravo!”

Jack nudged Sarah.

She turned and looked at the doorway too.

Then she turned back to Jack and he saw her smile.

He smiled back.

Then turned to look back at the stage where Claire Goodman stood in tears still, her arms filled with flowers.

And her face filled with happiness.

And Sarah thought …
sometimes things in Cherringham turn out … just as they should.

END