Keep Me Close : An utterly gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist Page 11

  He works for an estate agency like David did, having got into the business after university through David’s recommendation, landing a job at a rival company. It seemed to amuse David, staying best friends with the ‘enemy’ – as his boss angrily referred to Logan whenever he saw them together. There was always banter about it when we went out to the pub as a threesome or in a group, the two men tossing ridiculous insults back and forth.

  But I knew David wasn’t really bothered by any of that business rivalry. He liked and trusted Logan, as do I.

  Over coffee, he asks about the poison pen letters. His tone is casual, but I’m not deceived. ‘Did you take them to the police station?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  His brows draw together. ‘Kate—’

  ‘Look, if there are any more, I’ll speak to the police about them. You’re right, it has to be done. But there are only two letters so far. It seems like a bit of an overkill to get the police involved over two letters.’

  ‘One came to your workplace though, and one to your house.’ He shakes his head. ‘It sounds to me like you have a stalker.’

  ‘God, don’t!’

  ‘I’m not trying to scare you, and I’m sorry if I have. But you need to face facts. Someone has threatened you. And they know where you live.’ He finished his coffee. ‘I don’t like the thought of it, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’ But even I am not convinced.

  ‘Let me take the letters to the police, then. On your behalf.’ His gaze is serious. ‘Or we could go together, if you’re uncomfortable doing it alone.’

  ‘I’m not scared to talk to the police about this,’ I say sharply, offended by what I consider a patronising male tone. My cheeks feel hot as I meet his gaze with my own stormy look. ‘I don’t want to overreact, that’s all. Is that so hard to understand?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  For an instant, I’m reminded of Calum Morgan and his verbal duelling, and how he grabbed my wrist so painfully, later pretending it hadn’t been his intention to hurt me. Which I still don’t believe.

  ‘Bloody men,’ I mutter, looking away.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ His smile is crooked. ‘I suppose that must have sounded a bit high-handed. Am I coming across as a complete misogynist?’

  I feel bad, then. Logan’s nothing like Calum; he’s only trying to help, not baiting me.

  ‘No, of course not,’ I lie, and force myself to relax. ‘But I’d prefer to wait and see what happens.’ I push my coffee away, unfinished.

  Logan shrugs. ‘It’s your decision, of course.’

  I stand up, feeling off-balance. ‘I need to get back home. Sorry to dash off like this, but…’

  He gets up too, reaching for his jacket. ‘Can I see you again, at least? I hope I haven’t blown it.’

  His smile is so engaging, I find myself softening. ‘I’d love to see you again, Logan. I’m sorry if I sounded abrupt. It’s been a long week. A long month, actually.’

  He looks at me keenly. ‘This new guy… the big author… You’ve barely mentioned him. Is the transfer not going as well as you hoped?’

  God, he’s astute.

  I hadn’t gone into much detail with him about Calum Morgan or that awful lunch the other day, fearing what I might reveal of my mindset if I did. I’m wildly uncertain about being his editor though still continuing to work on his manuscript without comment. Yet, despite my careful reticence, Logan somehow guessed that things had gone badly between us.

  ‘I’ll cope,’ I say, my chin up. ‘Look, how about you come over on Monday? I’ll cook something. We could watch a film together after dinner.’

  ‘That sounds perfect.’

  I hesitate. ‘Monday is Ruby’s night off this week, and Mum goes to bed quite early, so we shouldn’t be disturbed.’ I don’t know why I said that. My cheeks fill with heat again under his caressing look. ‘How about Italian food?’ I say to cover the awkward silence. ‘I could make a lasagne with a green salad.’

  ‘I’d love that, thank you. I’ll bring the wine, shall I?’

  Outside, he kisses me briefly on the mouth, and heads off into the cold wind with his coat collar turned up. Back to work, I assume.

  I watch him cross the road, considering whether I should let him go a little further after our next dinner date. We’ll be alone, after all. And I do find him attractive.

  But my frazzled mind can’t move that far ahead, or even gauge if I would like to become intimate with Logan. Everything seems to be moving so quickly these days, I feel somehow out of step…

  *

  When I get back to the house, I find Mr Adeyemi coming down the drive in a smart black Jag. I pull to one side and lower my window. He does the same.

  ‘Hello,’ I say, faintly confused. ‘I thought you were coming on Monday afternoon? Did I get the day wrong?’

  ‘Not all,’ he says smoothly, smiling. ‘I have to go away this weekend, on a personal matter, and it’s possible I won’t be back until Tuesday. So I’ve been trying to squeeze in my Monday appointments before I go.’

  ‘I see.’ I glance at the house, but the front door is shut. ‘Have you spoken to my mother, then?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. We had a good conversation over a nice pot of tea that your housekeeper was kind enough to offer me.’

  I blink, not understanding who he means; Irina’s not in today. Then I realise he must be talking about Ruby.

  ‘So how did you find her? Do you see what I mean about her needing me to take over her financial affairs?’

  To my dismay, he shakes his head. ‘I’m afraid not. She seemed perfectly alert and had no problems understanding me. I discussed the issue of her bank account, but she’s adamant she wants to keep control of it.’

  ‘But she’s not capable,’ I burst out, and see his eyes narrow. ‘That is, I don’t think it’s safe. Not with so many con artists around.’

  ‘We covered that too. She’s happy to continue the way she always has, and frankly, who are we to try and take her money away from her?’ He sees my eyes widen and raises a hand. ‘No, I’m sorry. I do appreciate your concern for her well-being, Miss Kinley. But your mother is my client, and has been for many years. I like to think we have a strong relationship. So I would be remiss in my duty if I ignored Celeste’s insistence that she is well enough to handle her own finances and handed that control over to you instead. I accept it’s a delicate matter, but consent is everything in the eyes of the law. I’m sure you must appreciate that too.’

  I don’t know what to say, but everything inside me hurts.

  ‘Well, goodbye,’ he says calmly, and raises his electric window with a brusque nod, making it clear my opinion as her daughter means nothing to him.

  I watch helplessly in my rear-view mirror as the powerful black car purrs down the drive and pulls away into traffic.

  ‘Damn it,’ I mutter, dragging my coat around me as I get out of my car. The wind tears at my hair in great gusts and whips at my skirt, our trees bending and rustling above me in the thickening gloom, the last of their leaves whirling about the gravelled drive.

  I hurry inside, incredulous that Mr Adeyemi could have sat talking to my mother even for as little as half an hour, and yet not spotted that her grasp on reality is slipping away. Though even Dr Forster said something similar about Mum needing to ‘give consent’ to going into a care home. It seems I’ve been premature in my attempt to keep my mother safe. I feel a great bitterness inside at this irony, but push it aside as best I can. They’re both experts and must be used to dealing with people in this situation, so perhaps I should accept their judgement. I certainly won’t help my mother by stirring up trouble for no good reason.

  Ruby has an apron on and is whisking something sweet-smelling in a large metal mixing bowl. ‘Chocolate cake,’ she says when I stare at the gooey mess, and points with her dripping whisk down the hall. ‘Your mum’s lying down in her room. The solicitor was here just now. Did you see him leaving?’ When I nod, she
smiles, continuing in her bright, bubbly way. ‘Celeste was so exhausted after his visit, poor pet, she was stumbling about. I didn’t see any harm in letting her take a nap. I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘Why would I?’ I kick off my shoes and hang up my coat, then knock on Mum’s door. ‘It’s Kate. Are you okay, Mum?’

  There’s no answer. Perhaps she’s already asleep.

  After a moment, I tiptoe away.

  ‘You all right, love?’ Ruby gives me a concerned look, unfastening her apron. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

  Briefly, I tell Ruby what Mr Adeyemi said, and she tuts, shaking her head in disbelief.

  ‘That’s not right. Do you want me to talk to him instead? Let him know what’s what?’ She hesitates. ‘Because it might come better from me.’

  I stare at her. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t got an axe to grind, have I?’ Ruby bustles ahead of me into the living room, scooping up the tea tray that they must have used during his visit. The cups rattle noisily together, setting my teeth on edge. ‘It makes no difference to me what happens with the Power of Attorney. But if the solicitor says yes to you, that puts all her money in your control. So it stands to reason he’d be less likely to listen to you than to me.’

  I haven’t thought of it like that before, and stop dead in front of the window, staring blindly out at the garden. As dusk falls, the wind snatches at bushes and bends trees violently, the evening wild now.

  The realisation that Mr Adeyemi may think me underhand and a thief makes me quite sick with anxiety.

  ‘You’re saying he thinks I’m after her money?’

  ‘I’m not saying anything, love.’ Ruby gives me a reassuring smile. ‘I’m just trying to see it from his point of view. I know you don’t mean harm by it. But it might look a bit fishy to some people.’

  ‘What would?’

  ‘Why, you saying Celeste can’t look after her own bank account, of course, and that you want to do it for her.’ She nods and her smile widens, seemingly oblivious to my frozen horror. ‘But if the solicitor came here to talk to your mum about it and still doesn’t see the need… Well, that’s the end of that, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

  I draw the curtains across to hide the stormy evening, and then drop down onto the sofa, reaching vaguely for the television remote.

  ‘Would you like some company?’ Ruby asks, lingering in the doorway, still holding the tea tray. ‘You seem a bit down, if you don’t mind me saying so. I could put on some coffee. We could watch some soaps together.’

  I don’t watch soaps, in general. But tonight the idea of easy watching appeals to me.

  ‘Yes, why not?’ I click on the television and smile up at her. ‘And then maybe I can help you eat that cake.’

  But after Ruby has hurried out to make us both coffee, my mind shifts back to what she said about Mr Adeyemi, and I become uneasy again.

  Does the solicitor really think I would try to steal from my own mother? Is that the real reason why he’s refusing to let me use the Power of Attorney?

  Perhaps I should ring Dr Forster and get her to write him a letter explaining how much my mother’s mental capacity has deteriorated lately. She may have said that Mum needs to consent to being put into a home, but handling her finances is surely different. I just want to make sure my mother can’t give away all her savings to some scam merchant.

  But the embarrassment of both our family doctor and the solicitor imagining me grasping after my mother’s money is too horrible to bear, so I quickly dismiss the idea. Under the circumstances, it could only do harm to put the two of them together…

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The next day being a Saturday, I treat myself to a lie-in, blissfully secure in the knowledge that my mother now has a live-in carer. It’s a luxury I haven’t been able to indulge in for months, maybe even years, and it’s with a real sense of pleasure that I finally yawn and throw back the covers at nearly eleven o’clock. The sun is warming the bathroom tiles as I take a leisurely shower, the weather outside cold but bright, a perfect autumn day.

  But when I finally wander downstairs in search of a late breakfast, I find Ruby on her own in the kitchen. She looks round at me with a worried expression on her face.

  ‘Good morning,’ she says uncertainly, and bites her lip.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask, immediately apprehensive. I’d put my head round Mum’s door on my way past but seen no sign of her, and assumed she must be in the living room, perhaps hard at work on a jigsaw puzzle or her knitting. Now a range of alarming possibilities run through my head. ‘Ruby? What’s the matter?’

  She doesn’t answer for a moment, her brow furrowed as she works, intent on spreading butter lavishly on two slices of toast. ‘I don’t want to alarm you,’ she begins slowly, which panics me.

  ‘I’m already alarmed. Please tell me what’s wrong,’ I demand.

  ‘It’s probably nothing.’ Now she’s chewing on her lip, practically eating it. ‘I mean, obviously it is something. But it could be nothing.’

  ‘Ruby, for God’s sake! Where’s my mother?’

  ‘In the living room.’ When I turn, she drops the butter knife and jumps in my path. ‘No, please don’t disturb her. She doesn’t know. That is, I don’t think she’s even noticed.’

  I’m stunned, both by the way she’s behaving and her continuing mysterious utterances. ‘Noticed what, exactly? I swear, Ruby, if you don’t tell me right now—’

  ‘She has some bruising,’ she mutters, her gaze lifting to my face. Her eyes are full of foreboding. ‘Do you know anything about it?’

  ‘Me?’ I shake my head, horrified. ‘What kind of bruising? How bad?’

  ‘Just a few blotches on her upper right arm.’ She touches her own arm to indicate the place. ‘I only noticed them this morning when I was helping her get dressed. Celeste says she doesn’t know how it happened. That she can’t remember. But I’d swear they weren’t there yesterday morning.’

  I’m struggling to understand. ‘You think she hurt herself in the night?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Ruby shrugs helplessly. ‘I can’t be sure, obviously. But it looks… Well, it looks as though someone’s grabbed her by the arm. Not one of us, of course.’ She hesitates, blinking in confusion. ‘It wasn’t me. And I’m sure you would never… Oh well, maybe she just banged herself.’

  I stare, my mouth open. ‘Grabbed her? But she hasn’t been anywhere but here. Who on earth… ’ I break off, suddenly realising what she’s suggesting. ‘You think it could have been Mr Adeyemi?’ My eyes widen. ‘He was alone with her, wasn’t he?’

  She nods, a look of chagrin on her face. ‘Sitting at the table together, they were. Looking at a big folder of documents he’d brought. Oh, I should never have left Celeste on her own with him. But he asked me to leave the room. So what else could I have done?’

  ‘He asked you to leave? Why?’

  ‘They needed privacy, he said. So I took the tea tray through, like he asked. Then I went out and shut the door behind me.’ Ruby looks distraught. ‘Perhaps I ought to have left it open, in case she needed to call me. But I didn’t want him to think I was eavesdropping.’

  I feel sick to my stomach. ‘How long was Mr Adeyemi alone with her?’

  Ruby considers. ‘Maybe half an hour?’

  ‘I can’t believe he would have hurt her. They’ve been friends for years. He knew my father really well.’

  She nods reassuringly. ‘I can’t believe it either.’ She pauses. ‘Though maybe he did it accidentally. He looks quite strong, don’t you think?’

  ‘Accidentally?’

  ‘Maybe he just…’ Gingerly, Ruby reaches out and squeezes my upper arm. ‘Touched her. Like that, to make a point while he was talking. Only he didn’t realise his own strength.’ She releases me. ‘Or maybe she was going to wander off… You know the way she does sometimes, halfway through a conversation, and he tried to steer her back to
the table.’

  I study her face, my heart beating hard. ‘You think Mr Adeyemi was trying to coerce my mother in some way?’

  ‘I don’t know what that means, sorry.’

  ‘Coerce?’ I hesitate. ‘It means… force her to do something against her will.’

  Ruby looks shocked. ‘Oh no! He was such a nice, polite man. Like I say, I expect it was just an accident. Or maybe she did genuinely bang her arm in the night.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Sometimes she gets up in the dark and tries to reach the toilet on her own, and knocks things over.’

  I’m less convinced. ‘I’d better go and look at these bruises.’

  Ruby nods approvingly. ‘I thought you might. So I gave her a short-sleeved top to wear, and popped a thick cardigan over it for warmth.’ She looks worried as she returns to buttering her toast. ‘I only hope she won’t be feeling the cold.’

  My mother is napping when I go in, closing the door quietly behind me. She doesn’t stir. ‘Mum?’

  Pulling up the footstool, I sit next to her armchair and touch her hand gently, not wanting to startle her. Slowly, her eyelids flutter, and then she opens her eyes, gazing at me in an unfocused way.

  I say, ‘I’m really sorry to disturb your forty winks, especially when you’re looking so comfortable. But can I have a word?’

  Mum makes a little moaning noise and straightens up, yawning. ‘Did I get any tea?’

  Her cup of tea sits untouched on the low table beside her.

  ‘It looks like it’s gone cold,’ I say. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll fetch you a fresh cup in a minute. First, I wanted to ask you something.’

  She waits, looking at me with a faintly surprised air.

  I wonder how to broach such a delicate topic. Mum has always waxed lyrical about Mr Adeyemi, telling me what a kind man he is and how well he looks after her affairs. I find it hard to believe he would have put such a good relationship at risk by behaving unpleasantly to her. But if there’s any chance at all that she’s at risk, the question has to be asked.

  ‘Ruby tells me you’ve got some nasty bruising on your arm,’ I say carefully. ‘Do you mind if I take a look?’