A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series) Read online

  She was pleased to have a distracting hour with her daughter, because although Marianne appeared to be taking Angelique’s surprise appearance in her stride, there were shadows under her eyes, and even when she smiled, a frown lurked between her brows. A mother notices these things, Miss MacReady acknowledged to herself.

  She was gathering the last batch of paperwork ready to drop off at the priest’s house for his signature, when she heard the bell tinkle in the shop area of the post office. She checked her face in the mirror and, realising she was without earrings, grabbed the diamante drops left on her desk the night before, not quite right with the tweed suit she was wearing but they would do, and made her way to greet her public. It was Larry.

  “Ah, Larry, it’s yourself, come through. I’ll make coffee. I’ve homemade shortbread too.” She lifted the hinged counter-top for him to pass into the inner sanctum.

  “Hope I’m not disturbing you, ma’am,” Larry said, removing the waxed trilby he had been wearing more or less permanently since his arrival on the island.

  “Ah sure, disturb away. What would a crusty old postmistress be doing, she wouldn’t love to be disturbed by a handsome young man like yourself?” she beamed at him, but Larry only frowned back, the second anxious visitor she had encountered that morning. Bad vibes, she looked at the Buddhist altar in the corner, the flowers in the vase prematurely wilted.

  Larry was quiet while Kathleen made coffee. She brought the refreshments through from the kitchen, arranging exquisite china cups on an elegant walnut table. Larry studied the room while she busied herself. One half - the office half – immaculate: everything in its place, files in cabinets, neat stacks of stationery. The other side of the room – mayhem: a large floral sofa, covered in silk throws and cushions, the walls filled with art. The mantel littered with crystal, photos, ceramic figurines, and everywhere candles - on every surface, in every type of holder. When Kathleen returned with a jug of cream, she had to dip her head to avoid the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She was, it had to be acknowledged, wearing the highest platform shoes.

  Larry, unable to find anywhere to hang his coat, laid it on the chair at her desk. He was uncomfortable; he had made that side of the room untidy. He placed them on the floral sofa, too piled with things to make any difference. Kathleen sat opposite him, perched on an embroidered footstool. She poured coffee.

  “Well, what’s the gen’?” she asked, shrewd eyes scanning his face. He looked quizzical. “What gives?”

  He took a piece of shortbread and snapped it between his fingers.

  “Miss MacReady...”

  “Kathleen, Larry please, aren’t we the closest of friends?” she watched as the shortbread hovered before his lips.

  “Kathleen. Can I prevail upon you to keep what I’m about to tell you a total and complete secret?” Larry asked.

  Miss MacReady looked aghast.

  “Larry Leeson, I’m the very soul of discretion, sure don’t I have to be, amn’t I the postmistress? I’m told more than the priest and he takes Confession.” She was incredulous.

  Larry was confused, as often happened when he spoke with Miss MacReady, but he surmised she was indeed confirming her trustworthiness.

  “Well, all is not as it seems,” he said.

  “Really, what’s not?” Miss MacReady was intrigued.

  “Angelique has not been altogether honest and I know more than she’s letting on.”

  “You don’t say,” Miss MacReady replied, then impatiently, “Ah, stop with the Agatha Christie carry-on, Larry, spill the beans as you New Yorkers say in the cop shows.”

  Larry coughed.

  “Although she was on tour with her boyfriend - the rock star guy - she did not leave his suite at a five star hotel to come here.” He paused, making sure she was taking it all in. “She was in hospital, and this time not her usual rehab, she was in a secure unit, attached to a penitentiary, at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, as you say.”

  “We don’t say, Larry, we’re a republic, but I know what you mean, she was in the ‘nick’, ‘clink’, ‘slammer’, call it what you will, gaol anyway. Pray continue,” she instructed.

  “Not gaol exactly. Angelique was being detained pending an investigation. She’d been arrested at Heathrow and taken in for questioning - a couple of private detectives had been tailing her. The investigators must have been rather naive, because she asked to use the bathroom and took an overdose while she was in there. They found her unconscious and rushed her into the hospital.” Larry finally bit into the biscuit.

  “Goodness me, that’s awful.” Miss MacReady was shocked. “What on earth was she being questioned about, drugs?”

  “No, these days whatever she takes is usually prescribed,” Larry explained. “This time it looks like embezzlement.”

  “Heavens above!” Miss MacReady gasped. “But what does that mean exactly?”

  Larry took another piece of shortbread. “The fraudulent appropriation of funds or property entrusted to someone’s care but actually owned by someone else.”

  “I know what embezzlement means, Larry, but how...what is she embezzling?” Miss MacReady grew impatient.

  “Diamonds,” Larry said. “I guess you know about the jewellery?”

  “Of course I do, that’s one of things she’s famous for, hasn’t she some fabulous pieces belonged to Hollywood legends and royalty and such?” Miss MacReady knew all about this sort of thing, this was right up her street.

  Larry nodded again. “The famous collection does not belong to Angelique, it belongs to the film company, the franchise. She’s always been a superb ambassador for the brand, a real live mannequin, wearing the jewels and fabulous designer gowns to events all over the world. But I have it on good authority she’s been switching the genuine article for copies, good copies, but copies none the less and stashing the cash.”

  “Ah go on, Larry, you’re making it up!” Miss MacReady exclaimed.

  “No way, ma’am, I’d never do such a thing,” Larry replied, shocked. Miss MacReady smiled. Larry took every word she said so literally. “Here’s how it works. Angelique takes a piece of jewellery to a less than reputable jeweller and gets him to swap the real gems for fakes. The piece still looks the same, but instead of being worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, it’s just costume.”

  Miss MacReady refilled his cup. “Go on,” she was wide-eyed.

  “The jeweller sells the gems on the black market, gets paid a commission and Angelique pockets the rest. She’s clever. She only sells one piece at a time and uses a network of crooked diamond merchants all over the world.” Larry snapped the shortbread and popped a piece into his mouth.

  “My word, that’s brilliant.” Miss MacReady touched the diamante earring in her left ear. “How long has this been going on?” she was on the edge of her seat.

  Larry gave a dry laugh. “Ever since her habit got too expensive to maintain and the acting offers dried up.”

  “Jesus, Mary and Holy Saint Joseph,” Miss MacReady blessed herself. “How on earth did a young woman like that get into this sort of thing? I thought she came from a good family, plenty of money, no need to want for anything.”

  “That’s all true, Kathleen, but Angelique has been indulged all her life, and she’s always been attracted to bad boys,” Larry said.

  “Ryan?” Miss MacReady asked, anxiously.

  “No, not Ryan, he likes a good time and they had fun together, but Ryan wasn’t into the heavy stuff and Angelique always has been. I think the family were hopeful Ryan would be an influence for the better and he was for a while. No, Ryan’s clean, he’d never have landed the Thomas Bentley role if he’d still been living the ‘high life’, if you take my meaning.” Larry tapped his nose.

  Miss MacReady left the table to pour whiskey into cut-glass tumblers.

  “Not for me,” Larry said. She paid no attention to his instruction.

  “Sláinte,” she said, knocking hers straight back. “Well, well, well, where does tha
t leave things then I wonder? What you’re saying is, technically she escaped from gaol?”

  “After a fashion,” said Larry, “absconded from detention anyway.” Larry stood up and started pacing the room. “The insurance company had a tip-off following her trip to Amsterdam. I have a pal there. He rang to warn me Angelique was going to be questioned, so I could manage the situation if the story hit the press. But news of Ryan quitting the movie broke about the same time Angelique disappeared from hospital. At least that kept the newshounds off her tail at the time. A good day at the office, I don’t think.” Larry said flatly.

  “So I’m right, she’s here to do a deal for as much money as she can. She’s no interest in the child, above and beyond what he’s worth to Ryan and subsequently to her,” she poured herself another large one, “and she’s hoping she can get things signed and sealed before news of her escape breaks. Will the police be after her?”

  “No, the detectives who picked her up work for the insurance company, they’re gathering evidence but it’s not police business yet. She’s avoided being questioned so she’s not even been charged.” Larry sat back.

  Miss MacReady went to the telephone on her desk. It was an original two-tone trim-phone, it reminded her of Star Trek, one of her favourite shows. She lifted the receiver. Larry charged across the room and pulled it out of her hand.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled. Miss MacReady nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Why, ringing Marianne to tell her what you’ve told me. She’ll know what to do, she has contacts.” She was flabbergasted. Larry replaced the receiver.

  “I’m sorry, Kathleen this is strictly confidential. We don’t know who or what is involved, this information goes no further and I mean that.” He stood facing her, she looked into his face - he meant it alright.

  “But why tell me?” she was still puzzled.

  “Because I need your help.” He looked her straight in the eye.

  “Really? My help? Why, what do you want me to do, go undercover, hack into someone’s emails, tap a few telephones, what?” she joked.

  “I want you to rob the post office, or to put it another way, I want you to allow the post office to be robbed,” he said firmly.

  “Oh, that’s perfect, no problem, at your service.” Miss MacReady’s face broke into a smile - until she realised he was serious. “What? I can’t do that - it’s more than my job’s worth. This is my life’s work, this is what I do, who I am. I can’t allow...”

  Larry took her by the hands and led her to the sofa. He sat down beside her.

  “You have no choice Kathleen. The lives of those you hold most dear are at risk. In fact all our lives are.” He was staring into her face.

  “At risk? All of us?” she said.

  He nodded gravely.

  “I’ve said it before, Larry, it’s you should have been the actor!” Miss MacReady laughed, unconvincingly.

  “I know you’ve Angelique’s jewels in the strongbox here,” Larry said, looking around.

  “The leather case, yes Padar brought it up from the pub. He has a safe alright but only Oonagh knew the combination so he brought the jewels here. I just locked them away.”

  Larry raised his eyebrows. “May I see them?”

  “Of course.” Miss MacReady crossed the room. She took the key from the chain around her neck and went into the darkest corner of the building. She returned with an elegant leather jewel case.

  “It’s locked,” she told him, placing it on the table.

  “Hairpin?” he asked. She produced one immediately. Larry picked the lock in a second, the clasp sprung open.

  “Larry Leeson, you’re a man of many talents,” Miss MacReady cooed. Larry blushed. She switched on a lamp as he lifted the top of the case. The brilliance was blinding. Miss MacReady stretched a tentative finger towards the gems. Bang! Larry slammed the top shut. She jumped. He laughed.

  “Gotcha!” he grinned.

  She gave him a look. “Pretty Woman? You cheeky thing,” she laughed back. He opened the lid again, slowly.

  “Ah,” she whispered in awe, “that’s the most fabulous collection I’ve ever seen.”

  “Indeed but which are real and which are fake?” Larry asked in a hushed voice.

  Miss MacReady was trying on rings, draping bracelets over her wrist. “If any of these are fake, they’re very good.” She held a square cut diamond ring up to the light. “Very good indeed,” she told him, clearly beguiled.

  “And that’s why I need you to allow the post office to be robbed. I need this lot stolen, it’s an opportunity not to be missed,” Larry went on.

  “Okay, let me get this straight, you want to set up a heist and steal the jewellery?” Miss MacReady was checking out a tiara in the mirror. “Surely that’s very risky Larry, especially if the insurance company is already suspicious.”

  “We’d need to do it quickly and it has to look genuine, involve the police, make sure everything is reported. You see this is all itemised and insured for millions,” he said. “Then we can claim the insurance.”

  “I get that, but who gets the insurance money?” she asked.

  “Rossini, the collection is insured under the franchise operation,” he said.

  “So you arrange for the collection to be stolen and the insurance claimed but what happens to the jewels?” she asked.

  “They disappear for a while, then sold, black market, gone.” Larry was grey with seriousness.

  “And that money?” she asked.

  “Back to the franchise,” Larry shrugged. “It costs around a hundred million dollars to make a Thomas Bentley. Like all businesses the franchise needs capital, and since the crash, the banks are nervous about the industry, there’s just not enough money around to keep the franchise going.”

  “I see.” Miss MacReady toyed with a diamond bracelet she was wearing. “Let me get this straight, Angelique is literally hiving off the family silver and instead of handing her over to the authorities, you’ve decided to pull a fast one on the insurance company, claim the money for the stolen gems and pocket the funds once they’ve been sold?”

  Larry looked uncomfortable.

  “When she showed up here with them I couldn’t believe it, it was like an opportunity to help out landed right in my lap,” Larry said. “Whatever we claw back will certainly pay the interest on the loan until the big bucks from the box office returns start to roll in,” Larry said.

  “The interest!” Miss MacReady exclaimed. “Good grief, how much has Rossini borrowed, and more to the point, from whom?”

  Larry chose to avoid that particular question. He got up and walked back to the desk, collecting the items Miss MacReady had been trying on as he went. He closed the lid of the case and shut the clasp.

  “This is all highly irregular,” she told him, “I mean, it’s criminal, Larry, we could get into serious trouble.”

  “What’s happening to Rossini, the franchise and the movie business in general, that’s what’s criminal, Kathleen,” he said, sternly.

  She followed, him and standing very close, looked up into his eyes, she could smell his cologne - woody, expensive. She slipped a ring he had missed from her finger, and placed it lingeringly in his hand, stroking his palm with her nail.

  “Well, well, Larry, you’re full of surprises. Of course I’ll help you, I’ll do whatever you want, I’ve never heard of anything so exciting,” she purred, running her tongue across her lips. Larry was beginning to perspire. She handed him the other whiskey. He knocked it straight back.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Lynx Effect

  Padar pulled a face as he pulled a pint. “Jaysus, what’s that smell?” He looked along the bar: a few locals in their usual spots, Sinead Porter in the snug with a glass of wine and one of those gossipy women’s magazines. He sniffed again. He looked at Shay, the ganger for the building workers. Shay shrugged. Padar moved along the bar, sniffing.

  “Good God Sean, it’s you! What are you wearin
g at all? You stink. You smell like me Auntie Nellie’s knicker drawer, mothballs and stale lavender, ugh!”

  Sean Grogan looked up from the newspaper he was pretending to read, while keeping an eye on the door.

  “I’ll have you know I’m wearing the one that fella, David Beckingham wears, if it’s any of your business,” Sean said, haughtily. The main door to the bar swung open, every head turned to see who it was. Father Gregory filled the entrance. The men went back to their pints. Sinead looked up and smiled.

  “Ah, Sinead,” he said, shaking rainwater off his cap, “do you mind if I join you, a couple of things needed for the project, I thought you might be able to help.” She nodded. “Good, I’ll get us a drink, so.” He went to the bar. “Dear Lord Padar, what are you using to clean the pipes these days? Smells like rotten eggs.”

  Padar flicked a look along the bar at Sean. The priest stood back.

  “Good evening Sean. Something different about you, what is it?” the priest asked.

  “Nothing new Father,” Sean replied.

  “There is. New hairstyle?” Father Gregory referred to Sean’s few grey strands, flattened to his head with gel. “A new jacket?” Sean was wearing a purple velvet jacket; it had huge lapels and was well-worn at the elbows.

  “I’ve had this years,” he told the priest.

  “Aha, a new Holy Medal. Isn’t that nice, I haven’t seen a Holy Medal the likes of that in a long time,” Father Gregory said, eyeing the massive gold medallion on Sean’s bare chest.

  “I didn’t know you could get Saint Christopher in life size. Has that Beckingham-fella one of them too?” Padar enquired, hiding his smirk with a glass cloth.

  “Ah, can’t a man have a bit of a wash and brush up now and again around here?” Sean asked angrily, finishing his pint before stomping off to the gents.

  “What’s that all about?” Father Gregory asked, paying for his drinks. He looked along the bar, Shay looked highly polished too: designer jeans, sharp shirt, freshly washed hair. The priest raised his eyebrows at Padar.