Mr Oliver Templeton hurried up Curzon Street, relieved he had left the hansom cab in Piccadilly. The traffic there was incredibly bad on this hot August Friday. Hansoms, drays, carriages and that odd thing called a motorcar, all so crowded together, making movement virtually impossible. And so he had paid the driver and jumped out. On foot would be quicker.
Now, thankfully, here he was almost at Lord Adrian Fraser’s private bank. He paused, took out his watch and smiled. It was ten minutes to ten. Actually, he would arrive five minutes early. South Audley Street was just ahead of him.
As the top private investigator at the Berkeley Private Detective Agency, Oliver was proud of the work his team had done, and with the most interesting results they had produced. It was quite a dossier and, in many ways, it had been easy to track the various individuals under investigation. He hoped Lord Fraser would be well satisfied.
Within a few minutes, Oliver was entering the bank and being ushered into his lordship’s private office.
As Oliver was led in by a lady secretary, Lord Adrian walked towards him, his hand outstretched.
‘Good morning, Mr Templeton,’ he said. ‘Come and sit over here.’
‘Good morning, Lord Fraser,’ Oliver answered. He sat in the chair opposite the desk, put his briefcase on his lap. He opened it, took out several folders, and placed the briefcase on the floor.
Oliver Templeton cleared his throat and, looking directly at the man who had hired him, he said in a clear, distinct voice, ‘My team did an excellent job, in my opinion. And I think you have all the answers to your questions, m’lord. Certainly, they didn’t leave a stone unturned.’
Leaning forward, he handed the two folders to Adrian.
Adrian said, ‘You’ve done it fast, I’ll give you that, Templeton. Just one week.’ A questioning look crossed his face. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, ‘And yet you say your team has answered all my questions. How can that be? I had quite a lot that I needed to know.’
‘Good work on the part of my team. They are excellent, efficient and diligent. But they were in luck because no one was in hiding and went about their business in the usual way. Mind you, none was aware they were being watched and followed, I’ll give you that.’
Adrian nodded, and opened the first folder, and read the pages rapidly. His face was inscrutable, but his mind was boggling. My God, he thought at one moment. Templeton does have a bloody good team.
The second folder provided pages and pages of details that would only thrill Robert. He must get this information to him at once.
Looking across his desk at Templeton, Adrian said, ‘This is an extraordinary report, and very helpful. Significant. Thank your team for me and my thanks to you also.’
‘It was a pleasure to be of service, Your Lordship. Can I be of further help?’
After a moment’s thought, Adrian nodded. ‘I think perhaps you can. I’d like to know more about that villa. You should keep your team on the job for another week.’
‘I will do that, Lord Fraser, and thank you for your confidence in me.’
Hugging the large envelope to his chest, Adrian hotfooted it down South Audley Street to Grosvenor Square. He had an urgent need to get the package to Robert as fast as he possibly could.
It was a hot day, and he began to perspire, but he kept up the pace. And, a bit sooner than he had expected, he was suddenly there, lifting the brass knocker on the door of his friend’s house.
Almost immediately, the door opened and there was Turnbull, welcoming him warmly in his usual way.
‘I’m afraid I’m a bit early,’ Adrian said after greeting the butler. ‘I have to see his lordship at once, unless he is otherwise engaged.’
‘Come in, come in, Lord Adrian,’ the butler said. ‘It’s much cooler in here.’
Indeed it was; Adrian noticed that at once. ‘Thank you,’ he said, stepping into the foyer.
‘I will let Lord Robert know you are here. Just a moment, please.’
Before Turnbull could go into the library, the door swung open and Robert stepped out.
‘Adrian, old chap, you’ve made it over earlier than usual today,’ he exclaimed. ‘But I’ve finished my work. You could say I’ve just closed my shop.’
‘I’m happy to hear that,’ Adrian responded, walking forward as Turnbull moved aside. Adrian and Robert embraced quickly and stood apart.
‘What’s that package you’re hanging onto for dear life?’ Robert asked, eyeing the envelope. Adrian had it pressed to his chest.
‘It’s for you actually,’ Adrian said to his friend, following Robert into the library and closing the door. Handing the large envelope to him, he added, ‘It’s your freedom.’
‘My freedom?’ Robert repeated and frowned. Then it dawned on him what Adrian meant, and he exclaimed, ‘It’s the report from the private investigator, isn’t it?’
‘It is indeed.’ Adrian sat down in the chair opposite Robert’s desk.
Robert was still standing. Placing the envelope on the desk, he finally sat and stared at Adrian. ‘Dirt? Hot stuff? The goods?’
‘I should say so … the works! You’re now holding the winning hand, so to speak. Wait until you read it all. It’ll knock your socks off.’
Robert smiled. It was almost disbelieving, and then he said, ‘Give me the gist of it now, a taste, and then I’ll go through the folders later. I suppose there is another man, by the look on your face. Or is it many men over the years? Nothing would surprise me with her.’
‘One man.’
‘Who is he? Do we know him?’
‘He’s French, by the way.’
‘You’ve got to be joking.’ Robert was aghast.
‘I’m not. He’s a Frenchman all right and quite a famous one at that. From a very wealthy background. Married. Four children and, as a Frenchman and a Roman Catholic, obviously no divorce. Not ever.’
‘How long has the affair been going on?’ Robert gave Adrian a hard stare. ‘By the look on your face, it’s long-standing.’ A sudden thought struck him and, before Adrian could answer, Robert said, ‘Not before my boys … my sons are mine, aren’t they?’
‘Of course they are! They’re the bloody spitting image of you. Blue eyes, black hair and tall. Lucinda has been involved with the Frenchman for years, and I’m certain of that. It’s in the report.’
‘Hmmmm. A long time. Who is he? What’s his name?’
‘Léon Theroux. Forty-two years old. Very ordinary-looking, not a handsome man at all. But he is an important politician. He’s a minister in the French government. Powerful, with a lot of clout.’
‘That must please her. Lucinda is always attracted to powerful people and powerful men, in particular. Does she go to Paris to see him? Or does he come here to London?’ Robert asked, filled with curiosity.
‘Neither. All their shenanigans take place in Zürich, Geneva or the South of France. In a little town called Beaulieu-sur-Mer, just outside Monte Carlo. Apparently he prefers to keep her out of his home city of Paris.’
‘I get it,’ Robert said. ‘And what about her at the moment? Or should I say them?’
‘Oh, he’s in Zürich, as we speak. Seemingly he’s got it hard for her. Lucinda is at the Baur au Lac; he’s in a smaller hotel nearby. But he always stays over. My private investigator got that titbit from the housekeeper at the hotel. Bed linen, you know. Don’t ever forget that. It’s a dead giveaway.’
Robert couldn’t help laughing, and then said, ‘Your private investigator goes in for all the details. I’ll say that for him. Has Lucinda been to the clinic? Or isn’t she ill? Is that also a story?’
‘Not sure. She has been to the clinic twice. Not much information available from there. Hippocratic Oath, and all that. There has been a suggestion from one source that she might suffer from arthritis, has treatments for that.’
Robert nodded, leaned back in the chair, a thoughtful expression settling on his face.
Adrian, watching him, thought how calm, cool and collected his oldest and dearest friend looked. On the other hand, Robert had always been like that. And he could easily adopt an inscrutable expression, and frequently did.
Finally, Robert said, ‘So with this information, I can sue her for a divorce on the grounds of adultery, can’t I?’
‘You can indeed. There’s plenty of evidence in those folders and also photographs of them together. They seem to be quite open about their association, seemingly no hiding in corners.’
‘And what about the Lady Glendenning? Is she Lucinda’s travelling companion?’
Adrian nodded. After a moment, he said, ‘She’s got one too. A lover, I mean. Some Swiss fellow.’
Robert shook his head. ‘Women!’ he exclaimed. ‘They get up to everything under the sun.’
‘Just like men,’ Adrian pointed out. ‘We’re not much different when it comes to sexual adventures.’ He frowned and then said, ‘You know it will cause a bit of a scandal though. And it’ll be expensive.’
Robert stood up and walked to the window of the library, gazing out over the square. ‘Yes. But I have no choice.’