It’s Monday and I’m in a small coffee house on Brewer Street in the heart of Soho, waiting for Rick Savage to turn up. I know what he looks like because I found his profile on LinkedIn. Rick is head of risk at some high-flying US insurance company near Liverpool Street station, and so I’m fully expecting him to be as sharp, and as tough, as nails.
I’m glad he agreed on Soho. I can’t help feeling it’s safer to meet in Central London, where I can get lost in the crowds. Leaving the house earlier, I felt like a fugitive on the run. Looking over my shoulder every few minutes, taking three Tubes even though I didn’t need to change lines, doing a circuit of Leicester Square after I’d reached there around midday, then strolling through Chinatown and up Charing Cross Road, occasionally ducking in and out of music shops and bookstores just to make sure that no one was following me. I didn’t get the impression they were. And even if I’m wrong, I’m certain I’d have lost them eventually. Then again, who knows? I don’t have a clue who I’m supposed to be hiding from. That’s what’s most frightening. What’s really screwing with my head.
The cafe is packed, a heady combination of coffee and delicious-smelling pastries permeating the air. But I’m not hungry. My stomach is churning at the thought of questioning a grieving father even though I know he wouldn’t have agreed to meet with me if he hadn’t been curious to hear what I had to say. I’m also dog-tired. Although my bar shift last night was shorter than my usual Saturday stint, mentally I’m feeling drained, from both worry and insomnia. Lying in bed, I kept hearing strange noises, my mind playing tricks on me, mistaking every natural creak and moan for an intruder roaming the house. I also can’t get Adriana out of my mind. I keep thinking about our night together, about how things might have been different had I kept my big mouth shut. She left the house before me today. Around eleven. Saying she had a couple of charity-related engagements then was seeing a friend for lunch. I wished her a good day and she returned the sentiment. But it still felt awkward between us. And I hate that.
I sit nursing a large cappuccino at a corner table, my gaze fixed on the door waiting for Rick to appear, hoping I don’t look suspicious sitting here alone with nothing but my phone to occupy me. Finally, at five past one he walks in, his eyes cagily scanning the tables.
I raise my hand as subtly as possible, my own eyes doing a circuit of the cafe to check if any customers are looking my way but they’re all engrossed in their own conversations which reassures me they’re harmless. Rick sees me – I sent him a photo earlier to confirm my identity at his request. He gives a brief nod, then heads in my direction.
‘Seb?’ he says, plonking his large frame across from me. He’s dressed in a suit and is sturdily built. Looks like someone who’d have spent much of his youth on the rugby field.
‘Yes, thanks for coming, Rick,’ I say.
A waitress comes over and Rick orders an Americano before she leaves us be.
‘So, you’re her new lodger?’ He’s a handsome man, but his drawn, sullen expression suggests he’s not slept in weeks. Hardly surprising given what he’s been through.
‘Yes, I moved in last Friday. I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you. It’s been hell. For me and my wife. And my daughter, Sara, of course, who was very close to her older brother. Do you work at Ethan’s firm too?’
‘No. I’m a writer. I saw the ad on a private landlord website. I have no connection to Adriana whatsoever. I understand your son was a trainee at the law firm that represented Charles Wentworth?’
Rick’s about to respond when the waitress returns with his Americano. He gives a clipped thanks as she sets it down before leaving us alone again.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘I take it you live in London?’
‘No. Although I work in the City, the family home is in Guildford.’
‘Guildford?’
‘Yes. I’ve commuted to London for work for over fifteen years. Ethan went to Durham University, but his closest friends found jobs up north, so he didn’t really know anyone to share accommodation with when he first started at the firm. Neither did he fancy commuting with his old man, which is understandable. He was looking for a room to rent in London before starting his training contract. It was only meant to be until he found his feet and had enough saved to put down a deposit on a flat of his own. He was a stubborn lad. I offered to lend him the money, but he wouldn’t take it from me. Was determined to do it on his own. He heard about the room from his partner mentor.’ Rick shakes his head. ‘I told him not to take it. Sure, he didn’t know anyone in London, but I advised him he’d be best finding people his own age to share with. You know, one of those properties where the landlord lets out rooms to various tenants. Safety in numbers and all that.’
‘Why wouldn’t he feel safe with Adriana?’ I ask.
Another shake of the head. ‘OK, perhaps safe isn’t the right word. I just felt it was a bit weird. Living with a widow in her vast house. No offence.’
I hold up my hands. ‘None taken. I’m also pushed for money, and the house is so incredible I’ll admit it was hard to resist.’
He sighs. ‘I get that. It was the same for Ethan. I’ve been inside the property, and it’s stunning. I don’t blame you for being tempted. Ethan had an eye for the finer things in life, and when presented with the chance to live in luxury it was something of a no-brainer for him. Sadly.’ He pauses. ‘So why exactly did you want to meet with me? You mentioned it concerned Ethan.’
‘Yes, that’s right. I spoke with Adriana’s neighbour, Stella Jenkins, who I know you also had a conversation with. She said she was certain she’d seen someone up on the roof with Ethan the night he fell, and that you believed her. Why? I take it you know Stella’s an alcoholic as well as a chronic insomniac; something Adriana pointed out to the police.’
‘Yes.’
‘So what makes you think she’s telling the truth?’
‘Because I know my son. He wouldn’t have gone up to that roof for no good reason in the middle of the night having just come back from a party.’
‘But you know he’d taken drugs.’
‘So? He’d taken drugs before.’
‘People do strange things when they’re high. There’s always a first time.’
Rick fires me an angry look, then makes to get up. ‘I didn’t come here to be interrogated. Or have my son’s name dishonoured.’
Guilt shoots through me. I see the anguish in the poor man’s eyes and immediately hold up my palms. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you or your son, please sit down.’
He holds my gaze, then his own softens as he slowly sits back down. He scans the room once more, then says in a low voice: ‘Ethan was having an affair with Adriana.’
His revelation hits me like a bullet, jealousy enveloping me. I feel irritated with myself because Adriana’s sex life shouldn’t be my focus here. I will myself to get a grip even though I feel cross with her for not telling me she had a sexual relationship with Ethan. I mean, why wouldn’t she? It feels sly, manipulative even. ‘He was? For how long? Did Stella know?’
‘Yes, she knew, but I made her promise not to tell a soul. I didn’t want word getting around. It’s bad enough that my son is dead without adding a sex scandal into the equation.’
Understandable. Maybe that explains the ‘look’ Stella gave Adriana and me on Saturday evening, seeing us dressed up and on our way out together.
‘Anyway,’ he goes on, ‘I’m not sure they were that discreet about it. I think it started a year or so after he moved in. My son had a way with women. He was good-looking, smart, charming, had everything going for him really. But a bit too much of a roving eye. Adriana’s a beautiful woman as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and I guess it was inevitable they’d succumb eventually. Particularly given her history and them both being attractive people living under the same roof.’
I frown. ‘Her history?’
‘Yes. Stella didn’t tell you?’
‘Tell me what?’
‘Adriana cheated on her husband.’
I’m gobsmacked by this revelation. And I find it hard to believe. Whenever Adriana talks about Charles it’s with nothing but unbridled devotion. It’s clear how much she adored him, worshipped him, in fact. I can’t imagine she’d be unfaithful.
‘How on earth would you know that?’
‘Stella saw a man come to the house one time when Charles was away on business. She said he arrived around eight p.m. Let himself in with a key. She waited until gone midnight to see if he left, but he never did.’
‘Were there other times?’
‘She didn’t say so. But perhaps.’
I give an unimpressed look. ‘Stella seems like a bit of a troublemaker to me. It’s weird, don’t you think? Her constantly watching her neighbour’s house. A bit Rear Window. Have you ever thought perhaps Stella’s jealous of Adriana? Or obsessed with her?’
Rick’s eyes narrow. ‘You’re quick to defend your new landlady. Have you fallen under her spell too?’
His steely gaze drills through me. ‘No, of course not,’ I say defensively.
Rick leans in. ‘Look, the way I see it, Adriana pretends to be this innocent grieving widow, but I don’t think she’s as goody-goody as she appears. And that’s something I said to her face. She seduced my son, and was quite possibly unfaithful to her husband.’
I still can’t believe Adriana cheated. But the fact that Stella saw a man let himself in with a key is baffling.
‘What did Adriana say when you confronted her?’
‘She denied it, of course, said Stella had got the wrong end of the stick, and that if I didn’t back off she’d file a restraining order against me.’ He sits back, gives a heavy sigh. Then drains the last of his Americano. ‘But having said all that, I don’t think she’s to blame for Ethan’s death. Well, not directly, that is. She seemed genuinely upset. I can tell it really shook her up.’
I frown. ‘What do you mean by “not directly”?’
‘There’s something I’ve not told Stella about, because I’ll admit she likes a drink and I didn’t want word getting back to Adriana before I have proof.’
‘Proof? Are you having her followed?’
‘Maybe.’
The penny drops. ‘There was a man watching me when I moved in last Saturday. I take it that was whoever you’ve hired?’
He remains poker-faced. Then says, ‘Maybe.’
I lean in, almost hiss: ‘You can’t bloody do that, I could report you. He scared the shit out of me.’
Before I have time to think, Rick grabs my wrist, his eyes ablaze. ‘My only son is dead. Do you know what that feels like, to lose a child? No father should have to bury their own son. Something strange is going on in that house and I’ll be damned if I let you stop me discovering the truth about what happened to my boy.’
He loosens his grip, his eyes now wet with tears. I glance around the cafe, and notice that we’ve attracted the attention of two women on a neighbouring table. I smile at them and they immediately look away, realising they’ve been caught out. ‘OK, OK, I understand, I get it,’ I say. ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Or your wife and daughter. But what kind of proof are you looking for? What have you not told Stella about? If you don’t think Ethan’s death was an accident, and Adriana’s not directly responsible, then who is to blame?’
He doesn’t answer immediately, just looks at me as if he’s trying to decide if he can trust me.
I assure him that he can, and at this, he relents. ‘Ethan started receiving disturbing emails in the month or so before he died.’
My heart almost stops. ‘Who from? And how do you mean disturbing?’
‘They were from someone claiming to have known Adriana for some time. It was a weird email address: Protego@vistamail.com.’
Fuck.
‘They said they were watching him. Warned him that if he hurt her, or asked too many questions, he’d regret it.’
‘Ethan told you this? When?’
‘The week before he died. He’d been too scared to tell me before. The sender told him he’d be placing both himself and Adriana in danger if he mentioned the emails to anyone.’ This is all sounding frighteningly close to the bone. ‘But despite being scared, my son was too curious, too much of a risk-taker,’ Rick goes on. ‘He nosed around and found something in Adriana’s study two days before he died. While she was out.’
Christ. I immediately think back to dinner with Adriana on Saturday night. When she told me she found Ethan snooping in her study, and that this led to them rowing and her telling him she wanted him out by the end of the month. But from what Rick just said, it seems Ethan was on his own when he found whatever he did. Does that mean Ethan confronted Adriana about it, and not the other way around?
Why did she lie to me? Hopefully, that will become clear when Rick tells me what Ethan found.
‘He came across her journals. Stacks of them.’
‘Journals? That’s pretty personal stuff. I guess you can’t blame Adriana for being upset.’
Rick leans forward. Whispers: ‘Ethan didn’t care by this point. He was receiving crazy messages from some lunatic, was at his wits’ end trying to find out who could be sending them, and by any means possible. My son was also smart, naturally inquisitive. He was fond of Adriana, didn’t want to scare her, alert her to the fact they were being watched. And, like I said, he’d been warned to keep the emails to himself. So it’s not like he could ask her outright, he had no choice.’
‘I understand,’ I say. ‘So, what was in the journals?’
‘Various ramblings, everyday stuff you might find in a diary. But also, more specific entries. Dating back to when she was a teenager. She talked about her parents’ deaths, how she wished she’d had the chance to say goodbye to them despite everything.’
‘Despite everything?’
‘Yes. Ethan said it read like she’d had a tough childhood. She talked about bad stuff having happened to her, about her mother beating her, and there being someone else in league with her mother who made her life hell, but how going to live with her aunt and uncle was like a new beginning, and that someone called Dr Adams changed her life for the better, opened her eyes to the truth so she was finally free. She mentioned missing her two childhood friends, how one of them made her feel so bad for deserting him, but that leaving Devon was the best thing that ever happened to her.’
‘Devon?’ I say. ‘That’s where she’s from?’
As I ask the question, I can’t help wondering what Adriana meant when she referred to Dr Adams changing her life for the better, to opening her eyes to the truth so she was finally free. It seems like pretty heavy stuff for a teenage girl.
‘Seems so. But there was one thing that stood out.’
‘What?’
‘She wrote in a later entry how she wished she could have told Charles everything, that she hated lying to him, but that she’d had no choice but to keep the truth about what she’d done buried.’
‘What she’d done? What did she mean by that?’
Rick shrugs. ‘I’m guessing cheat on her husband.’
I frown. ‘But buried’s a weird choice of word, isn’t it?’
Rick shrugs again. ‘I guess. It was clearly something bad. Something she’s not proud of. She went on to say how she couldn’t believe he’d hunted her down, having thought she’d never set eyes on him again.’
I frown. ‘Who’s he? Again, “hunted” seems like a strange word for a lover.’
Rick appears to think on this. ‘You have a point.’
‘So maybe it wasn’t a lover. Maybe it was the same person in league with her mother, as she put it?’
‘I don’t know. But I do wonder if it’s the same person who sent Ethan the messages.’
And me, I think to myself.
‘Although when I asked Ethan about this,’ Rick continues, ‘he became vague.’
‘Vague?’
‘Yes, like he knew something else but wanted to speak to Adriana first before telling me.’
‘So, based on the emails Ethan received, you think someone’s stalking Adriana? Someone potentially dangerous from her past, who was jealous of Ethan’s relationship with her?’
Rick nods. ‘I’m sure that’s a large part of it. Things were OK before they started sleeping together. I know Ethan tried to ask Adriana about her childhood before he found the journals, but she told him it was none of his business. It only made him more curious. And then, when he later confronted her about what she’d said in her journals, including the stuff about her childhood, she went berserk. Told him he had no right to read her private thoughts. That she wanted him out.’
‘Ethan didn’t think to tell Adriana about the emails at this point? She might have been more forgiving, more willing to open up about her past if she knew he was receiving threatening messages.’
‘No. He was too afraid of what the sender might do to Adriana if he did. It was clear their every move was being watched. He thought the house was bugged, because the sender knew stuff, intimate things he and Adriana had done. Poor boy was being blackmailed into keeping his mouth shut.’
As am I.
Rick stops talking, pain etched across his face. ‘There’s one other thing Ethan said to me the last time we spoke. The night of the party.’
‘Oh, what’s that?’
‘He said he believed the key to everything was in Adriana’s art studio, but that he couldn’t get access to it because she keeps it locked up.’
I frown. ‘Her art studio?’ I think about how Adriana always maintains it’s her private workspace, which is why she doesn’t allow anyone inside without her express permission. But perhaps there’s more to it than that. As Rick seems to be suggesting.
‘Why would Ethan think that?’ I ask.
Rick shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. Ethan didn’t elaborate. Again, I think he must have found something in the journals and wanted Adriana to tell him of her own accord before he told anyone else. Poor boy wanted to give her a chance. They’d been sleeping together, for God’s sake, and I genuinely think he’d come to care for her. It’s why he didn’t move out instantly, after she went crazy at him. I think the morning after the party he was going to try and reason with her. Possibly even tell her about the emails. But, of course, someone saw to it that he never got the chance.’
Rick pauses to wipe a stray tear from his eye. I can’t begin to imagine what the poor guy is going through. We’ve only just met, but it breaks my heart to see him broken like this.
‘The really sad thing is,’ Rick carries on, ‘that keeping quiet got Ethan nowhere. Perhaps, as you say, if he’d told Adriana about the emails she’d have understood. She might have let him into her past and they could have gone to the police together if she knew who was watching her. But he didn’t. And all she saw was a massive betrayal of her trust. I know she blames herself for telling Ethan she wanted him gone, possibly even thinks it might have tipped him over the edge. But I don’t accept that; my son was stronger than that. He genuinely wanted to help Adriana, to find out who it was she was so afraid of. It’s why he went to see Stella. He knew she’d lived next door for a long time, and thought she might have some answers. But, like I said, Adriana had been just as reticent to talk about her childhood with Stella as she had been with Ethan. Which tells me something truly awful must have happened. Well, we know it did, because the journals imply as much.’
Just then something occurs to me.
‘Did Ethan ever think about talking to her therapist?’ I ask. ‘Dr Martin?’
‘I’m not sure. Perhaps. But doctors are bound by confidentiality, as I’m sure you know.’
I nod. ‘The night I moved in, Adriana told me a child psychologist she used to see in her teens after her parents died had recently passed away. He was based in Guildford. Like you.’
‘That must be the Dr Adams she refers to in her journals. I think I read about his death in the local paper.’
‘Yes, probably. Her aunt and uncle took her to see him when she went to live with them. Mainly to help her deal with her grief. I get the feeling she told him a lot about what went on in her childhood. More than she’s perhaps confided in Dr Martin.’
‘Yes, I sense that too, from the little Ethan recounted to me from her journals. Such a shame the man died.’ Rick sighs. ‘He would have been a good person to speak to.’
I hesitate, realising the police haven’t yet made Dr Adams’s true cause of death public. Then I whisper: ‘It turns out he didn’t die of natural causes. He was poisoned.’
‘What the hell?’ Rick’s face is aghast.
‘Yep. Adriana told me on Saturday night. It really shook her up. She’d only seen him the Thursday before last.’
‘Christ.’
‘There’s more. The day before he died, Dr Adams called Adriana saying he urgently needed to see her again and they agreed on the Monday afternoon. But on Sunday evening, around eleven, she got an email from him cancelling. He said something had come up and he’d be in touch to rearrange. But the thing is, we now know it can’t have been him who emailed Adriana because he was already dead. The post-mortem suggested he died around four p.m. on the Sunday.’
‘Jesus. So you think the person who was threatening my son, who might have killed him, possibly killed this Dr Adams too?’
‘Yes, I mean it’s a definite possibility,’ I say. ‘And I wouldn’t be surprised if the same thought’s crossed Adriana’s mind. But unlike Ethan, Dr Adams would have been privy to details Adriana told him in confidence about her childhood. I’m wondering if he found out some new information recently. Something that either paints Adriana in a bad light or exposed who killed Ethan. Perhaps his killer got wind of this and murdered Dr Adams to put a stop to him talking before he had the chance.’
Rick rubs his forehead. ‘Shit. It’s possible, I guess.’
‘Do you think it’s worth speaking to someone Dr Adams worked with, his secretary perhaps, see if they can help? You live in Guildford, maybe you can pay her a visit? If you’re up to it, that is.’
‘Yes, sure, no problem, leave it with me,’ Rick says, ‘I’ll see what I can find out. This may be my best chance to discover what really happened to my boy.’ Just then, he frowns. ‘There’s one thing that’s bothering me.’
‘What?’
‘You’ve just moved in with Adriana, and you’re suddenly asking me all these questions. Forming all these theories. Why? Why not stay out of it?’
‘I already explained, Stella approached me. She told me about seeing Ethan on the roof with someone.’
‘But you said yourself you’re not sure her testimony can be trusted.’ He squints, as if trying to gain the measure of things. Then I see a flash of recognition in his eyes. ‘You’ve received an email too, haven’t you?’
I feel my cheeks burn. I try not to fidget in my seat but my awkwardness is telling.
Rick leans in. ‘It’s OK, you don’t have to say anything. You’re being blackmailed by the same arsehole. My advice, get out now. Don’t get involved. It’s not your battle to fight.’
‘I can’t,’ I whisper. ‘The email warned me I’ll be placing Adriana’s life in danger if I leave.’
I don’t mention that I’m also worried that whoever this nutjob is, they might dig deeper into my past if I don’t comply.
He sighs. ‘Same dilemma Ethan had. But look where that got him, you need to look out for number one.’
‘I can’t do that, my conscience won’t allow it.’
He sighs again, only more heavily. ‘And that could be the death of you.’ There’s a pause, before he says: ‘What I don’t understand is why this psycho doesn’t just let you leave. They’re clearly obsessed with Adriana, so driving you out should be what they want, surely?’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘I don’t understand it either. Perhaps it’s all part of some sick, twisted game they’re playing. Perhaps they know it’ll look suspicious me leaving so soon having just moved in. Also, what’s to stop me from going to the police and telling them about the email once I leave? This way I’m trapped, at their beck and call.’
‘True,’ Rick acknowledges. We sit in silence for a moment.
‘So you’ve hired someone to monitor Serenity House?’ I say eventually. ‘To see if whoever this creep is shows their face?’ I wonder if Adriana suspects Rick hired a private investigator to watch the house? Or maybe she thinks it was Rick himself? Perhaps that’s why she was so snappy with me last Friday evening when I asked her who she thought the strange man might be. That was before I’d spoken to Stella, of course, when Adriana was trying her level best to keep the ugly possibility about how Ethan really died from me, along with her altercation with Rick.
And before either of us knew Dr Adams had been poisoned.
‘Yep, but so far he’s found nothing,’ Rick says. ‘It’s only been a couple of weeks and I’m guessing the bastard’s lying low.’
‘What I don’t get is how he gained access to the house.’
Rick shakes his head. ‘I can’t answer that, but it’s not impossible these days. If you know the right people and have the means, it’s possible to infiltrate the most secure of buildings. And there’re a lot more places to hide in big houses.’ He leans in, gives me a stern look. ‘Which is why I’m warning you to keep your distance from your landlady. Don’t get involved with her the way Ethan did. Because if you do, I’m almost certain things won’t end well for you.’