She'd settle for half his shares - and with Mark's thirty-three per cent, that would give them a majority holding. Control of the company. Goodbye, Michael.
Dead simple, really.
Murder had never been on the agenda.
56
Ashley, in a white towelling dressing gown, her hair down and loose over her shoulders, opened the front door of her house and stared at the mud-spattered figure of Mark with a mixture of disbelief and anger.
'Are you insane, coming here?' she said as a greeting. 'And at this hour. It's twenty past twelve, Mark!'
'I have to come in. I couldn't risk phoning you. We have to talk.'
Startled by the desperate tone of his voice, she relented, first stepping out and looking carefully down the quiet street in both directions. 'You weren't followed here?'
'No.'
She looked down at his feet. 'Mark, what the hell are you doing? Look at your boots!'
He stared down at his filthy gum boots, pulled them off, then carried them inside. Still holding them, he stood in the open-plan living area, watching the winking lights from the silent wall-mounted stereo.
Closing the front door, she stared at him fearfully. 'You look terrible.'
'I need a drink.'
'I think you had enough earlier today'
'I'm too bloody sober now.'
Helping him off with his anorak she asked, 'What would you like? A whisky?'
'Balvenie if you have some. Otherwise anything.'
'You need a bath.' She headed towards the kitchen. 'So, tell me, was it awful? Did you get the Palm?'
'We have a problem.'
Ashley spun round as if she'd been shot. 'What kind of a problem?' Mark stared at her helplessly. 'He wasn't there.'
'Not there?'
'No - he -1 don't know - he--'
'You mean he wasn't there? The coffin wasn't there?'
Mark told her what had happened. Ashley's first reaction was to go to each of the windows and draw the blinds tightly, then she poured him a whisky and made herself a black coffee. Then they sat down on opposite sofas.
'Is it possible you went to the wrong place?'
'You mean - like there's two different coffins? No. I was the one who suggested that spot in the first place. We were going to leave him with a porno magazine and a bottle of whisky- both of those are in there - well the cap of the bottle is.'
'And the coffin lid was screwed down - with earth on top?' Clasping her coffee with both hands, she blew steam away from the top and sipped it. Mark watched as her dressing gown opened and part of her large white breasts was visible through the gap. And they made him want her, now, despite everything, despite all his panic; he just wanted to seize her in his arms and make love to her.
'Yes - it was exactly how it was on Thursday when I--'
'Took the breathing tube?'
He gulped some whisky. She was giving him a sympathetic smile now. Maybe he could at least get to stay an hour or two. Make love. He needed some release from this nightmare.
Then her expression darkened. 'How sure are you that he was in there when you took the tube?'
'Of course he was bloody in there. I heard him shout. Christ!'
'You didn't imagine it?'
'Imagine him shouting?'
'You were in a pretty bad state.'
'You would have been too. He was my business partner. My best friend. I'm not a bloody murderer -1--'
She gave him a richly cynical look.
'I'm only doing this - because - because I love you, Ashley' He drank some more whisky.
'He could be out there right now,' she said. 'Prowling in the dark, watching, couldn't he?'
Mark shook his head. 'I don't know. If he wasn't in the coffin, why
didn't he come to the wedding? But he was - or someone was - there are marks inside the lid; someone had been trying to scrape their way out.'
Ashley took the news impassively.
'Maybe he knows about us - that's all I can think. That he fucking knows about us.'
