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‘I went to her cottage to talk to her, maybe even threaten her a little. I’d tried the softly, softly approach and where did that get me? So I told her she was a two–bit whore and she wouldn’t get a penny out of us. But she was as high as a kite – she patted the bed and told me she wouldn’t mind fucking me too.’ He turned to look at Meredith. ‘She said it turned her on to keep it in the family.’
‘What did you do to her?’ breathed Meredith heavily.
Leonard turned back to the window, staring at his own reflection in the black glass.
‘I grabbed her. It was easy; I was so much bigger than her. Bitch tried to scratch me with her nails, so I held her down on the bed, my hands on her shoulders. Before I knew it they were around her neck. My two hands could wrap all the way around her neck. I kept squeezing, telling her to leave my sister alone. She was nodding or struggling, I couldn’t tell which. Then she stopped.’
He turned back and looked from Meredith to Tess and back again. ‘I only meant to scare her,’ he said, his voice low and cracked.
Meredith’s body was rigid as she leant on the desk. ‘I loved her, Leonard,’ she whispered.
Leonard spun round angrily. ‘You loved her?’ he sneered. ‘You loved a slut who was blackmailing you?’
‘Don’t you dare!’ screamed Meredith, sweeping a glass off the desk. ‘Don’t you dare try to justify this. You killed the woman I loved!’
Leonard looked his sister in the eye. ‘I didn’t want you to be … like that. You’d never have stopped paying her. With your money and with your heart, I was saving you from that. I was looking after you.’
‘Looking after me?’ said Meredith incredulously. ‘When have I ever needed that?’
Leonard laughed mockingly. ‘Oh, and you’re always so careful, always so in control? Well, what about all those grubby little relationships you’ve had since, all those companions? Why do you think they have never come out? The inherent decency of dykes?’ he spat. ‘No, Meredith, I paid them all off.’
She glared at him and a single tear trickled down Meredith’s cheek.
‘Where did you put her body?’ she asked, her fury and bitterness barely concealed. ‘Where?’
Leonard sat down heavily in his chair.
‘I took her down to the river,’ he said finally. ‘I did it for you, Meredith. I was protecting you.’
‘You murdered her!’ she howled, slamming her fist onto the leather top of the desk.
‘I’m your brother. I just wanted to fix it,’ he roared.
‘Fix it? You ruined everything!’
Tess was frozen to the spot, wishing more than anything she was back in the safe, secure newsroom of the Globe, writing up this story, not witnessing it. She had come here to confront Leonard, to get the truth, but now she was intruding on some horrendous private tragedy. Just then Leonard pitched forward and she saw his hand grip the desk. Instantly she knew something was wrong. Even in the soft light of the study, Tess could see that colour had bleached completely out of his face. He let out a strangled cry, his right–hand side shuddered, and his features contorted in agony. His body was beginning to slide down the leather of the chair. Tess jumped forward, trying to help him back up.
‘Meredith, help me,’ she grunted, but the older woman simply turned and walked out of the room, leaving Tess to pull Leonard’s heavy body back into the chair as best she could. Leonard’s mouth had drooped open, his limbs dangling at the sides of the chair, but his eyes looked alive and frightened. He tried to cry out but his voice sounded as if it had been filtered through a muffler.
Tess ran to the door. ‘Help!’ she screamed, ‘Someone, please!’
Then she snatched up the desk phone and called 911, praying it was not too late.
*
Throughout the night, word spread quickly through the hotels and houses around Jewel Cay that the wedding between Brooke Asgill and David Billington had been called off. The area was packed with media who were there to cover the nuptials and, although the Billington security team had managed to cordon off the area opposite the cay, few of the press missed the medical helicopter swooping down to the Asgill house at around eleven p.m.
When news reports started circulating that Brooke Asgill had been taken seriously ill, Tess hastily arranged a press conference for seven a.m. the next morning to clear up the error.
By six thirty, there were at least one hundred and fifty journalists in the gardens of the Pelicano hotel, gathered around a hastily erected podium.
Tess rubbed her eyes and threw a petrol–strong espresso down her throat. After everything that had happened over the last eight hours, she should have been running off pure adrenaline, especially as she had uncovered the biggest story of her life; but sadness and concern for the family was weighing her down.
She watched the ripple of activity as Liz Asgill stepped up to the podium and pulled out a single sheet of paper from her pocket. She was so calm and composed, it was as if she was unaware of the scores of jostling, shouting reporters and film crews in front of her. With everyone in the family rattled, Liz was the perfect choice for reading the statement. An earthquake couldn’t unsettle her, Tess thought. She’d heard the rumour that Liz was taking over from William as CEO of Asgill’s and that seemed eminently fitting. Wasn’t it John Donne who had written that ‘No man is an island’? But not everyone needed someone, mused Tess, watching her. Some men – or women – just needed something, and Liz had the business. I hope you’ll both be very happy together, she thought with a smile.
‘Thank you all for coming, ladies and gentlemen,’ began Liz, with the sincere tone of a seasoned politician. ‘As you all probably know by now, the wedding between Brooke Asgill and David Billington has been postponed. I will now read a short statement from my sister and her fiancé: ‘Due to the sudden hospitalization of Brooke’s uncle, Leonard Asgill, a few hours ago, we have decided that it is not appropriate for the wedding to proceed as scheduled. We thank you for your good wishes and wish Leonard a speedy recovery.’
Liz looked out at the sea of expectant faces. ‘Questions?’ she said.
