Private Lives

46



Anna smiled as the handsome steward handed her another glass of bubbly.

‘Thank you, Martin,’ she said, watching him sway back down the narrow gangway of the Cessna jet.

‘Oi,’ laughed Sam, watching her from his cream leather seat opposite. ‘Stop flirting with the crew.’

‘I’m not sure I’m his type,’ she whispered, as Martin flirted with another handsome male steward at the back of the cabin.

‘You could turn him, I’m sure,’ Sam teased, popping a handful of fat cashew nuts into his mouth.

Anna sat back in her seat and sipped her champagne, wondering whether to pinch herself. Dull solicitors like her just didn’t get to spend the day in a private jet with a Hollywood heart-throb like Sam Charles. But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there? The way they had chatted and giggled, flirted and teased; this wasn’t a normal lawyer-client relationship, not by a long chalk, especially as no one from Donovan Pierce even knew she was missing. Helen Pierce would have a fit if she knew she was careering off to India with one of the firm’s most high-profile clients. But Anna couldn’t help it; she was having a fabulous time talking with Sam, hearing his stories of Hollywood, his early life in a working-class part of west London and his struggles to become an actor. Listening to such intimate details in such an enclosed space made her feel as if they were the only two people in the world. She’d tried to tell herself that this was just business, but it wasn’t – it couldn’t be. Not the way he was looking at her. Not the way they were getting on like they’d known each other for years. Or perhaps he was like this with everyone. Wasn’t that what celebrities were good at – making you feel like the most important person in the room?

‘So is this thing actually yours?’ she asked, gesturing around the jet’s luxurious cream leather interior with her glass.

‘Not really,’ he smirked. ‘I just say that to impress people like you. I share it on the NetJets owners’ programme.’

‘Only a share?’ She grinned. ‘I’ve been brought here on false pretences. What kind of pauper are you?’

‘Don’t you start.’ He smiled. ‘Jess was always trying to convince me that we needed to buy one outright.’

It was irrational, of course, but Anna was starting to really dislike Jessica Carr. Obviously Sam wasn’t going to paint her in the most flattering light, but she did sound like a greedy, self-centred ogre. Or perhaps Anna was just getting annoyed at the regularity with which Sam mentioned her name, like some recently divorced man on a date. It’s not a date, she reminded herself. But hell, it felt like one.

‘So can you fly?’

He took a sip of his vodka tonic. ‘Not really. Jess got us hisand-hers lessons. She heard that Angelina had her pilot’s licence and she wasn’t going to be beaten. She wanted it to be one of those things we did together.’

‘And did you?’

‘Nah,’ he said. ‘It just made a nice soundbite for a magazine.’

They laughed.

‘What about you?’

Anna shrugged. ‘I can’t fly and I haven’t got a jet. Not even a tiny share in one.’

‘So what do you like doing? Other than work.’

‘Nothing as interesting as the things you get up to.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’re a movie star and I’m a solicitor from Richmond.’

He looked at her, a playful smile on his lips.

‘Come on, tell me something interesting about yourself. At least something I don’t know. A boyfriend?’

‘No,’ she said, a touch too quickly. Why was he asking her that? Was he really interested in her private life?

‘What happened to that journalist bloke? The one you didn’t want to talk to?’

Anna gave a loud cough.

‘The less said about him the better, I think.’

‘Well what about since then?’

Anna pulled a face. ‘Not much, I’m afraid. I really don’t have the time.’

‘Well I have to say that’s a real shame,’ said Sam, fixing her with his blue eyes.

Anna felt her mouth go dry. What was he saying?

‘A shame?’ she said. ‘Why?’

‘I was thinking of setting you up with Martin.’ He grinned.

She threw a cushion at him.

‘Right, that’s it, I’m going to sleep,’ she said, reaching for her sleep mask. ‘Wake me up when we’re in Paradise.’

Kerala wasn’t quite Paradise, but it wasn’t far off. The landscape was lush and tropical, dense jungle pressing in on every side as their air-conditioned taxi drove along the snaking roads from Cochin airport towards the resort town of Alappuzha. Refreshed from her nap in the jet, Anna peered out of the car window, fascinated by the countryside. She had expected the dusty, impoverished India she’d read about, but Kerala was as vibrant as the vegetation. The lime green of crops as they passed a tea plantation, the bright canary yellow of a sari or the posies of scarlet blossom. The villages they passed through were small but well kept, the houses neat and painted white, children in pressed school uniforms waving as they passed. It felt like the Garden of Eden, only with added Coca-Cola signs.

Finally they arrived at Alappuzha, a busy tourist town on the south-east coast criss-crossed by miles of backwaters, all leading down to a long strip of yellow beach and a rickety pier that jutted out into the shimmering Arabian Sea.

‘Wow, look at the lighthouse,’ said Anna, pointing to the red and white striped tower on the headland. ‘This place is lovely.’

‘Remember why we’re here, Judith Chalmers,’ said Sam as they paused at a crossing, watching the backpackers in shorts and flip-flops strolling up the main drag. ‘Louise Allerton could be any of these. It’s a long way to come to look for someone then get distracted by the scenery.’

Anna nodded. ‘Sea View Hotel it is, then. Pronto.’

The Sea View Hotel was salmon pink, with crumbling balustrades and flaking paint. It didn’t have a sea view, or indeed a view of anything except the back of a warehouse selling agricultural supplies.

‘You’d better stay here,’ she said, getting out of the cab. After the cool of the taxi, it was an almost physical shock, and she could feel herself beginning to perspire on the spot.

‘Why?’ said Sam, frowning. ‘I want to play detective.’

‘Because it’s a hotel full of backpackers who will almost certainly recognise you. The last thing we want is a tip-off to the Sun that you’re in Kerala.’

‘So? I could be here for a spa holiday.’

‘Not in this part of town,’ she said, glancing around. ‘And by the looks of it, this is the sort of place that rents beds by the hour.’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But if I hear any shooting, I’m not waiting for the cops.’

‘My hero,’ she laughed.

The guest house had probably seen better days, or perhaps it had always been dirty and cramped, with the faint smell of patchouli permeating the air. There were a few young Europeans lounging around the lobby drinking tea from little glasses, their rucksacks by their feet, but apart from that, the Sea View was quiet. Anna walked up to the reception, where a wizened Indian man in a faded smiley-face T-shirt was sitting. He gazed at her without interest, until she produced a thousand-rupee note and placed it on the desk.

‘I help you?’ he said, not taking his eyes off the money.

‘I’m looking for a white English girl, name of Louise Allerton. She stayed here six months ago.’

The man reached towards the money, but Anna pulled it back an inch. Finally he looked up at her.

‘Lots of English come here. I don’t remember names.’

‘Don’t you have a hotel register?’

The man gave a ghost of a smile.

‘This is not the London Ritz, lady.’

Anna picked up the note and folded it in two.

‘Pity.’

‘Okay, okay,’ said the manager. ‘Go speak to Amber in the apartment at the back. She been here long time. Maybe she know her. Not in right now. Works at ice-cream parlour by the sea.’

‘Thanks,’ said Anna, handing him the note and walking back to the taxi.

‘Louise? Of course I remember her,’ said Amber, a boho-looking brunette, clearing up the empty bottles of Mongoose from the tables. She wiped her brow with the back of her wrist, making her rack of bangles jangle. ‘We got to Kerala the same week and shared a room for about a fortnight. She moved on. I stayed at the Sea View in the flat they rent in the garden.’

‘Do you know where she moved on to?’

Amber wrinkled her nose.

‘She in trouble or something?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Just a feeling.’ She smiled knowingly and slung her cleaning cloth over her shoulder. ‘So what do you want her for?’

‘We’re worried about her.’

‘Who’s we?’

‘Friends, family,’ said Anna vaguely. ‘She left her job out of the blue.’

Amber laughed. ‘And that’s strange? I hear it two, maybe three times a day out here. Kerala’s full of people who’ve skipped the rat race. Doesn’t mean to say you have to be worried about them.’

‘Even so, how can I contact her?’ pressed Anna.

Amber sighed, her shoulders wilting as if they were weary from the heat.

‘Apparently Lou was a beauty writer back home. She was into spa therapies, things like that. So last time I heard, she was about to do an Ayurvedic beauty course. Said she’d come back and give me a massage once she’d finished. I’m still waiting.’

‘Can you remember where?’

‘Green something study centre. Can’t remember its exact name.’

Anna was already on her iPhone, locating all the Ayurvedic training centres in a fifty-mile radius.

‘Don’t forget to tell her I still want my massage,’ shouted Amber, as she watched Anna run off towards the waiting taxi.

Raj, their driver, knew the village where the Green Leaves Ayurvedic training school was located, and told them it was better to go there by ferry than by road. He dropped them off at the dock, a worn patchwork of bleached boards crowded with about fifty people all trying to squeeze down the gangplank on to a strange flat boat, shouting to be heard over its chugging engine. The ferry was like an iron shoebox with an engine house stuck at one end and a rusted chimney bellowing oily smoke.

Anna looked out at the wide brown expanse of water between them and the other side.

‘You think this thing’s really going to make it across?’ she said dubiously.

‘Come on, where’s your spirit of adventure?’ laughed Sam, grabbing her hand to help her on board.

Once they had cast off, the teeth-rattling clank of the engine gave way to a rhythmic thrum, and they sat at the side of the boat, feet dangling over the edge, watching the town disappear and give way to jungle and mangrove. Anna was expecting to see crocodiles sunning themselves, but had to make do with a single water buffalo drinking at the water’s edge before they came to Kumolrula, a small village on the far banks of the Vembanad lake.

It wasn’t hard to find Green Leaves, as apart from a scattering of huts and houses, it was the only building you could see from the jetty: a flat, rather unremarkable construction with a dark blue awning over the entrance.

‘Can I help you?’ asked an Indian woman the moment they stepped inside, grateful for the air-conditioning. ‘Massage or treatment?’

She was about forty, with short red hair and a black linen shirt.

‘We’re looking for Louise,’ said Sam, giving her his best Hollywood smile. ‘Is she around?’

The woman shook her head.

‘It’s only a half-day class today. She’ll be back home, or I think she works in a guest house along the lake as well.’

‘Could you tell me where she lives?’

Louise Allerton was out front of the house when they pulled up, a tanned blonde woman wearing a simple green shift dress, unpegging washing from a line strung between two wide-boughed trees. She continued with her task as Sam and Anna got out of the car and walked towards her.

‘Have you come about the yoga?’ she asked, picking up her basket. ‘Because I’m not giving lessons today . . . Shit, you’re Sam Charles.’

‘Yes, I am.’ He smiled, evidently pleased to be finally recognised. Anna rolled her eyes.

‘Wow. Blue Blood is one of my favourite films,’ said Louise, stuttering.

‘Mine too, actually. To film, that is,’ he added. ‘I hate watching my own films.’

‘Really? Why’s that?’ asked Louise, before Anna gave a theatrical cough and held out her hand.

‘I’m Anna Kennedy.’

‘Right,’ she said vaguely.

‘His lawyer,’ added Anna quickly.

Louise began to look nervous.

‘And you’re here to see me because . . .’

Fat spots of rain began to plop down on to the path. One, then three, then a dozen all at once. Anna squinted up, seeing the heavy dark clouds too late.

‘Can we come in for a minute?’ asked Sam, shrugging his shoulders as the rain began to soak his shirt.

Louise paused, then gestured towards the house, and they all ran inside. Louise put the washing basket in the corner and closed the shutters.

‘Can I get you tea?’ she asked, clearly unsure of how to behave with a celebrity in her home.

‘Maybe we should get straight to the point,’ said Anna kindly. ‘It’s about Amy. Amy Hart.’

Louise didn’t reply, simply turned and began taking the clothes from the washing basket, folding them and putting them away on a shelf. The rain was thrumming down on the shutters and the roof of the house. Slow and steady at first, increasing in pace until it was a roar.

‘What’s all this about?’ she said finally, turning back to them. ‘Research for a movie or something?’

‘No, we just want to find out what happened to Amy,’ said Sam.

‘Why do you care?’ snapped Louise, her hands on her hips. ‘You didn’t know her. Neither of you did. So why don’t you just keep out of things that don’t concern you?’

Anna caught Sam’s worried look. She wasn’t sure how he’d expected this to go, but Anna had certainly guessed that if Louise was scared enough to leave her career and family and run halfway across the globe, she would be frightened about talking to anyone, let alone a movie star and a lawyer who had literally walked in off the street.

‘Look, I know this must be freaking you out a bit,’ she said gently. ‘But we’re here because Amy’s sister Ruby got in touch with me after the inquest.’

‘Why?’ said Louise.

‘Ruby wanted a lawyer to challenge the inquest result.’

Louise turned away again, started putting dishes in the sink.

‘And what do you want from me?’ she said. ‘I don’t know anything.’

‘But you can tell us what you think,’ said Sam.

Louise turned on the tap, then snapped it off and swung round to face them again.

‘Look, I hardly saw Amy for months before she died.’

‘But you were good friends, weren’t you?’ asked Sam.

‘She was my flatmate for a little while; she was lovely then,’ said Louise, a smile creeping on to her face. ‘But towards the end? We didn’t have so much in common. She was a party girl and, well, she had her own agenda.’

‘Agenda?’ prompted Anna.

‘She wanted to marry a rich man,’ said Louise. ‘Started hanging around with people who could help her towards that goal.’

‘She was dating someone wealthy, wasn’t she, around the time she died?’

‘I don’t know,’ Louise snapped.

‘My life went to shit a while back and all I wanted to do was get away,’ ventured Sam kindly. ‘I buggered off to an island in the middle of nowhere. And you know what I realised when I was there? That it doesn’t matter where you go, you take the problem with you. You just can’t escape.’

For a few moments they were all silent. Rain bounced off the roof like a kettle drum. Anna wasn’t going to have come all this way to let this girl curl up into a little ball and hide, however scared she was.

‘Louise, I think you know something about Amy’s death,’ she said. ‘Why she might have been killed.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Then why did you leave England three days afterwards? Why is your mum lying about where you are? Why are you pretending that none of this matters?’

‘Can’t you just leave?’

‘If that’s what you want,’ said Anna finally. ‘But look, I’m just a solicitor from London and he’s some bloke from the movies. We’re hardly MI6, and we found you easily enough. If someone with money and influence wanted to track you down, then believe me, they’d find you too. It’s obvious you’re frightened, but Sam’s right: you can’t run for ever. And whatever you know, we can help you.’

The light was dim in the cottage, but Anna could see that Louise was crying now. She moved across and the girl fell into her arms, sobbing on her shoulder. Finally she began to talk.

‘Amy and I clicked from the minute we met. We had lots in common, liked a drink, a laugh, the London party scene. She moved into my flat, I needed a bit of help with the rent, and we’d go out every night to all the launches and parties we got invited to through my work and her modelling. Amy was focused, though. She wanted to find a rich man and started going to swankier things than I could get us invited to. I went with her a couple of times but it was just a bunch of leery old men who wanted a bit on the side. And then she met someone. I only know his name was Peter. It was Peter this and Peter that. All the places he’d take her, all the stuff he bought her. She never told me his surname – apparently he was married, so she was cagey about the details of who he was – but you could tell he was rich and influential.’ She looked up at Anna.

‘Was this man one of Gilbert Bryce’s friends?’

‘I don’t think so, but she told me she met him at a country party Gilbert took her to.’

‘Was it James Swann’s party?’

‘I don’t know. I’m sorry.’

Anna looked down, disappointed.

‘Can you tell me anything else about Peter?’

‘She was in love with him, you could tell that much. She told me she’d marry him in a heartbeat.’

‘But he was already married.’

‘I think she expected more from him, especially after he paid for that posh flat she was in by the Thames. But when he said he wouldn’t leave his wife, she got really angry with him. Threatened him.’

‘What with?’

‘She said she’d tell his wife.’

‘And did she?’

Louise nodded.

‘I told her not to do it, but she was determined. She knew where he lived and sent the wife a letter saying her husband was having an affair.’

‘And that obviously didn’t work.’

‘Apparently not. But she wasn’t going to give up that easily.’

She curled her slim arms around her legs and peered over the top of her knees.

‘About a week before Amy died, we went out for drinks. I asked her how it was going with Peter and she smiled this little smile, like she was really happy. I said, “Has he finally decided to leave his wife?” and she said no, but it was only a matter of time before he would.’

‘Why? She’d tried telling the wife and that didn’t work.’

‘She had something else on him. Something about his job.’

‘Do you know what it was?’ asked Sam.

Louise shook her head.

‘Apparently one of Peter’s close friends had committed suicide a couple of months earlier. Peter was devastated about it. In fact he broke down in front of Amy. He was sobbing, saying, “it was my fault, it was my fault”.’

She took a breath.

‘Amy found something out about Peter and she told him she’d go to the press with it. She was blackmailing him. She was desperate for him to leave his wife, and that was the only way left she knew how to do it.’

‘She told you that?’

Louise nodded.

‘I told her not to be stupid, but she was so headstrong.’ She started crying again. ‘If only I’d managed to persuade her, she’d still be alive. That drink. That was the last time I spoke to her. A week later, she was dead.’

‘Do you think Peter killed her?’

‘He paid for the flat so I assume he’d have a key. Even if he didn’t, Amy would have let him in. Maybe they just quarrelled. Maybe she slipped. Maybe it wasn’t murder but he just walked away without a second look back.’

‘What did Amy have on Peter? Do you know?’

‘I don’t know. If I did, then maybe I’d be dead too.’

‘Is that why you’re out here?’ asked Sam.

She nodded.

‘When Amy died I got scared. Maybe I overreacted coming out here, but I just wanted to step back from it all. I guess I’m a coward.’

She stood up stiffly and walked over to the shutters, pulling them open.

‘Rain’s stopped,’ she sniffed. ‘It does that. Over before you can blink. Now if you hurry, you can catch the five o’clock ferry.’