That was fair enough, sensible, and even though Doreen had been given the green light to slag Cassie off, it didn’t sit right.
“Are you sure you can handle this?” Karen asked.
“Yes. I can’t stand the girl. Too high and mighty, her new rules are too much.”
“Exactly what I thought. I keep thinking this, but she’s not giving people time enough to be human, to correct their behaviour, and that’s what gets me the most. Lenny gave warnings, a few too many sometimes, like with your Richie, but at least people had a chance.”
Doreen winced at the reminder of her son. “Hmm.” The less they discussed that the better. She didn’t want to talk about her wayward boy, not now she’d come to terms with his death and how he’d chosen the wrong path—a bit like me at one time. What he’d done hadn’t been her decision, and she wouldn’t take responsibility for it. Instead, she mourned the lad he used to be, the one who’d giggled at the man in the moon’s face and got ice cream on his nose, every time without fail, when he had a Mr Whippy from Bert’s van. Children were innocent, and some grew into well-rounded adults while others gave you pain, no matter that you’d brought them up right. Personalities were the culprit, and egos, outside influences, steering them wrong.
“How do you plan on running things?” Doreen asked to rid her mind of the image of Richie and that bloody ice cream, his freckled nose a dot in his chubby face, his eyes alight with happiness.
“Same as I did before, except I’ll have Cassie’s lot behind me.”
“What about the meat factory and the high-rise?”
Karen’s eyes appeared to gleam. “I’ll have Francis leave them to me in that note. And her swish pad and whatever’s in her bank account. And that’s another thing, we need to check that house when we go and pay her visit, see if there are any safes or offshore bank account statements. It’s not like she can put the Barrington earnings in a normal bank, is it. We’ll have the bloody lot.”
“You’re so clever.”
Karen preened. “I know.”
* * * *
Karen’s urge to kill was getting stronger by the minute. With every topic talked about, her ire rose—and her excitement. She was stepping up the ladder again, getting to the top, only this time she’d have the support of the Grafton employees, all that money, and the knowledge of exactly what pies Cassie and Francis had their pesky fingers in. There’d be more things going on than she was aware of, schemes and scams to bring in revenue, so much knowledge that had been kept from her.
“I’ll move into Francis’ house, and you can have Cassie’s flat if you want it. That way we’ll be close so we can discuss the running of the patch.” Karen liked the idea of that.
“Won’t it be better if I stay where I am so I can spy?” Doreen asked. “Like, they won’t know I help run it with you—well, offering you advice and things like that—and I can find out what people feel about you taking over. You know, like how we feel about Cassie. You don’t want someone else doing what we’re doing, do you, plotting behind your back. I reckon it’s best to know who our enemies are.”
“You’ve got a point there. Maybe Brenda will take the flat. Sharon’s lost her chance to run things, I’m afraid, what with her saying no to this, but Brenda might want it.”
They chatted for another couple of hours, and every so often, Karen typed some more in The Life document in case the police ever suspected her of wrongdoing, not that she could see how they’d be implicated in either death. Some forensic tech might be able to see all the keystrokes and when she’d typed for all she knew, and with a couple of hours’ gap, that meant they wouldn’t think it suspicious she hadn’t done it between the hours of one forty-five and two-thirty. She’d add a few more lines once she got home.
Sorted.
Doreen got up. “I need a wee. I’ll prod Harry again while I’m on the loo because he didn’t bloody reply. I don’t need him at mine when I get back. He’d ask questions. I bet he’s fallen asleep in front of the telly.” She took her bag and ambled off.
Karen pushed down her need for time to pass quickly and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. They had a way to go yet before they left the house, and the caffeine would keep them awake and hyped up. She eyed the knife she’d use, an old one from a set she’d shoved in a drawer, the biggest. She’d carved many a Sunday roast with it.
She thought of her children then, how they’d be shocked she’d been left the Barrington, worried she’d bitten off more than she could chew, especially at her age. They didn’t hold with the goings-on regarding the Graftons and tended to follow the rules, heads down. If only her ex was still around to see her rise back to the top. He’d probably come crawling once he knew she was loaded, and she’d have the pleasure of telling him to fuck right off.
Oh, the things she could do once she had the power.
She couldn’t bloody wait.
* * * *
Doreen sat on the loo and sent the recording to Cassie. She waited for the reply, anxious. She’d have to tell Karen she was caught short with a cheeky number two if much more time passed.
Five minutes later, Doreen on edge, her phone bleeped.
Cassie: It’s a go.
Chapter Twenty-One
Midnight, and Jimmy hadn’t managed to get Jason talking about Cassie yet. He could have kissed Geoff for announcing a lock-in—“But
