‘But surely buying stocks and shares is a kind of betting?’ Pippa observed innocently.
Charlie gave a muffled choke of laughter. Roscoe’s glance told her that he didn’t appreciate that remark.
‘All right,’ she said hastily. ‘Let’s get on. I’ve been reviewing the matter and it seems to me-’
The discussion became serious. Pippa put forward her most professional aspect, but all the time she had a strange feeling that it was a mask. There was an uneasy tension in the air, not between herself and Charlie, but between herself and the man who’d held her at a distance last night while burning her with his eyes, a man who eyed her with suppressed hostility, who challenged her every movement.
‘I’ve told the police I wasn’t in that shop,’ Charlie complained. ‘They just say, “Come on, now. Why not just admit it?”’
‘They also keep saying things like, “We know what you lads are like,”’ Roscoe said. ‘As though they were all exactly the same. What’s the matter?’
Charlie had suddenly started coughing, but he recovered in a moment. ‘Nothing, nothing,’ he said with the sudden urgent air of someone who wanted to change the subject. ‘Now, where were we?’
He plunged back into serious discussion, talking so sensibly that Pippa’s suspicions were aroused. Only one thing could make Charlie sensible, and that was the need to divert attention. She became sunk in thought and had to be recalled by Roscoe, who was staring at her in astonishment.
‘Just let me catch up with my notes,’ she said hastily. ‘Ah, yes, here-’
She got no further. The door was flung open with a crash and a wild voice said, ‘I’ve got to talk to you.’
Turning, she saw a man of about forty with a haggard face and dishevelled hair. His eyes were bloodshot and he seemed on the verge of collapse.
‘Mr Franton, I gave orders that you were not to be admitted,’ Roscoe said in a hard voice.
‘I know. I’ve been trying to see you for days, but I can’t get in. If I could just talk to you, make you understand-’
‘But I do understand,’ Roscoe interrupted him coldly. ‘You deceived me and a lot of other people, and you very nearly involved this firm in a scandal from which it might never have recovered. I’ve always made it clear that insider trading is something I wouldn’t tolerate.’
Pippa understood. Insider trading meant making a profit by the use of privileged information. If a business was on the verge of bankruptcy but only a few people knew, those people would be sorely tempted to sell their shares while they were still worth something, saving themselves financially while others were ruined. It could even happen that the sudden surge in sales precipitated a collapse that might otherwise have been avoided.
In a stockbroking firm such inside knowledge was common and often misused. A spy could earn a handsome profit by selling it on.
Yet Franton didn’t look like an evil conspirator. He seemed ordinary, slightly pathetic, and Pippa couldn’t help a surge of unwilling sympathy for him.
‘I never meant it to happen the way it did,’ he pleaded.
‘Understand me once and for all,’ Roscoe replied in a hard voice. ‘I care nothing for what you meant. I care only for what you did. And what you did was this. You ignored my specific instructions. You lied. You spread unsubstantiated rumours and caused a false rise in prices that cost a lot of people a lot of money-’
‘Including you.’ Despite his pathos, Franton couldn’t resist a spiteful sneer.
‘Yes, including me, but it’s not the money that counts. It’s my reputation that you’ve damaged and I don’t want to see you on these premises ever again. You’re out, and that’s final.’
‘But I need a job,’ Franton screamed, collapsing again. ‘I’ve got a family to support, debts-
He ran to the window, pointing out to where the snow could now clearly been seen cascading down.
‘Snow,’ he cried. ‘Christmas is coming. What do I tell my children when they don’t get any presents?’
‘Don’t try playing the pathetic card with me,’ Roscoe said coldly. ‘You nearly caused a disaster throughout the financial world, and you did it by dishonesty. If you’ve brought a tragedy on yourself the responsibility is yours.’
Roscoe’s face was as stony as his voice. ‘Get out,’ he said, softly threatening. ‘Get out and stay out. You’re finished.’
His last card played, Franton seemed to collapse. Slowly, he backed out, casting one last beseeching look. Roscoe didn’t even see it.
‘Now, perhaps we can finally get on,’ he said, seating himself. ‘Miss Jenson, I have some papers here-’
‘Wait a minute,’ Charlie said. ‘You’re not just going to let him go like that?’
‘He can think himself lucky I’m not doing worse.’
‘But this is Bill Franton-he’s been here for years and he’s a family friend-’
‘Not any more.’
‘Wait,’ Charlie said, dashing out in pursuit.
‘I’m afraid Charlie is too soft for his own good,’ Roscoe said. ‘One day I hope he’ll learn a sense of reality.’
‘Of course insider trading is dishonest and can’t be defended,’ Pippa agreed, ‘but that poor man-’
‘Why do you call him a “poor man”-because you saw his distress? You didn’t see the distress he caused other people, and the much worse distress that was narrowly averted.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she sighed.
‘But you don’t really think so, do you? I guess I’ll just have to endure the burden of your disapproval.’
‘It certainly doesn’t bother you.’
‘I’ve met it before and it’s based on sentimentality.’
‘Is it sentimental to say you can attach too much importance to money?’ she demanded indignantly.
There was an ironic humour in his eyes, as though he was enjoying a grim joke at her expense.
‘Not money, Miss Jenson,’ he said. ‘Honesty. That’s where I attach importance. Nowhere else.’
And he was right, she thought furiously. He was beyond criticism, totally honest, upright, honourable, incorruptible. And merciless.
‘Ah, Charlie, there you are.’ Roscoe sounded coolly collected at the sight of his brother. The last few minutes might never have been.
‘Roscoe-’
‘Come and sit down.’
‘But Franton-’
‘The subject is closed.’ Roscoe’s voice was final and Pippa shivered.
She made a mental note not to get on his wrong side, but reckoned that was probably easier said than done.
Then she pushed all other thoughts aside to concentrate on the case, but now that was hard because something was causing Charlie to become uncommunicative, as though protecting a secret. When his secretary looked in, saying, ‘That call has come,’ he vanished at once.
‘How do you think it’s going?’ Roscoe asked her.
‘I think there are problems. He’s holding something back.’
‘You amaze me. Last night he didn’t seem to be holding anything back. You’re doing brilliantly, as I expected.’
‘That’s why you came along, to keep watch, is it? To make sure I didn’t lead Charlie along the wrong path?’
‘Are you angry with me?’
‘I suppose I might be. I can’t think why.’
She spoke ironically, but there was truth as well. Beneath the polite surface, this meeting seethed with undercurrents of mistrust. The visit to Roscoe’s home had left her feeling more kindly to him, but last night had reversed that. Now she remembered the awkwardness on which their relationship was based and she couldn’t wait to get away from him.
‘Maybe I’m not managing this very successfully,’ he said, ‘but it’s a new situation for me too.’
‘You mean you don’t hire women for romantic relationships every day? You amaze me. I thought you were an old hand.’
‘All right, attack me if you wish. You’re angry about last night, and perhaps you have reason, but I only wanted to…to study the situation.’
