Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Harriet took to Michelle instantly, and was invited to stay for the wedding. She began to recover slowly, although she was unusually quiet, childlike and listless at first. With the drug Pierre prescribed, her depression began to lift, and her old spark returned with a vengeance when Michelle took her on a shopping spree in Paris. Michelle could not help but notice that money was no object with Harriet, and she had only to say she liked something for Harriet to insist on buying it for her. At the House of Dior Harriet’s naturally sunny nature revived. She wanted a new image, and under Michelle’s guidance she chose well. She bought so many outfits and hats that they needed a separate taxi to carry everything back to the apartment.

For the wedding, Harriet wore an Ungaro coat with matching dress. She had chosen a small beret to top the outfit, and her hair, since she had met Edward again, had grown long enough for the latest pageboy cut. She looked stunning and, her confidence renewed, she decided to return to London.

The Barkley Company was now in a secure position, and Edward was well pleased. He congratulated his brother, and handed him a thick white envelope with a flourish. ‘A little bonus, brother.’

The bonus was all very well, but it was time for them to sit down and discuss their personal finances. Edward was as evasive as ever, but Alex knew exactly what the business was worth — or thought he did. Edward still kept some bank accounts secret. But, as promised, he paid Alex his share of the proceeds from the chateau, minus the extras he had put in, of course.

Alex was not happy with the arrangements — suddenly Edward was treating him as an employee. ‘I’m your partner, Edward. I thought that was what we agreed, everything split down the middle.’

But Edward itemized the cash he had given Alex, the cost of the cosmetic surgery, the chateau, the Mayfair house, the million for the club, the small businesses... it all added up. Alex began to get impatient — he knew exactly how much Edward had laid out; he had, after all, done the accounts. ‘So what are you saying, Edward? That I’m not your partner? What am I, then, an employee? Your accountant? That what I am?’

Edward laughed and said of course not, it was just that he wasn’t all that flush with cash at the moment.

‘Edward, who do you think you’re kidding? I know exactly how much you’ve got. Remember, this is Alex you’re talking to, me, Edward... Now, am I your partner or not? Just tell me right now.’

Edward turned on Alex in a fury, saying he had been more than fair. His voice rose as he told Alex to take a good look at himself, take a look at what his brother had made of him. ‘And there’s a few more costs not exactly accounted for, costs I couldn’t put down in any ledger — like your death. You want me to write down how much that cost? It set me back thousands.’

Alex faced Edward and snapped that he knew how much a funeral cost, he could hand Edward the cash right now from his wallet if that was what he wanted. Edward calmed him down and gave him a twisted smile. ‘It wasn’t the funeral that carried the heavy price-tag, it was a bit more involved than that.’

Refusing to let the matter drop, Alex matched Edward’s calmness and took out his wallet. ‘I’ll settle now — how much?’

‘All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. It wasn’t as simple as it sounded, you can’t just dump a body in a car and set light to it. Gotta have someone the right size, got to have someone to identify the corpse... that costs a lot, I brought someone over from Brazil...’

Alex leaned against the desk, licked his lips. He knew there was more. Part of him had heard enough, but he had gone too far to drop it. ‘You brought someone over from Brazil to do what?’

Edward hissed at him. ‘Christ, you want me to spell it out? I had a guy bumped off — right size and weight — then I paid off a geezer to give false dental records... Look, it’s over, finished with, forget it.’

Alex began to sweat. He felt chilled, but he wouldn’t leave it alone. ‘Where’d you find this... you just pick some poor bastard off the street?’

‘Look, forget it! He was a bouncer, a bum... no family and nobody missed him. Besides, he started asking questions about you, wanted to know where you were, who I was, so he needed to be got rid of anyway.’

Alex didn’t have to ask the name. He knew it was Arnie, Arnie from the old Masks, who had stood by him, who had given him so much loyalty and friendship when he had taken over from Johnny Mask. ‘I don’t want any part of your stinking money. From now on I’ll earn every penny, earn it, and by Christ don’t you ever try anything on with me, because I’ll wipe you out.’

Edward seemed not in the least bit worried — in fact, he seemed relieved that he didn’t have to part with his hoards. However, he did make it clear that on the subject of Alex’s death they were bound to each other to keep silent.

‘I don’t have any alternative, do I?’

‘No, I guess you don’t... Well, I’d better get on, got a lot to do.’ He strolled out of the office as though they had just had a simple business meeting. Alex sat at his pristine, marble-topped desk, shaken and profoundly aware that he was bound to his brother in more ways than one.

Alex put in a call to Ming. He felt better at the sound of her voice, and began to relax, telling her he would be flying out to New York at the end of the month. Ming’s voice was slightly distorted, the line fuzzy, and she wanted to know exactly which plane, what time, as she had so many business commitments.

‘Alex? Can you hear me? That auction I told you about, shall I arrange for you to fly to Dallas? Alex...’

He paused a moment before he replied. ‘Yes, fine, you arrange it.’

He replaced the receiver, realized the time and hurried home. He had employed a cook and a cleaner, but was still interviewing butlers and valets. Like his accounts, he wanted his home run like clockwork, kept in meticulous order, and today there were three men to interview, all with good references and experience.

Alex chose the last man, James Scargill. His references were not in quite the same category as those of the other two applicants; as an ex-prisoner he had to report regularly to a probation officer. He was a dapper, stiff man, an ex-army batman, and he blushed with shame when Alex questioned him about his record.

‘That is all behind me now, sir, I was a very young man, sir, and went into the army as soon as I was released.’

‘The job is yours, Scargill. I shall require you to double as my valet, butler and chauffeur... is that acceptable?’

Scargill could hardly believe his luck, he had been turned down by so many people. ‘Yes, sir, and I give you my word, sir, you will never regret it. You are, if I may say so, a gentleman.’

Alex gave his new valet a smile, and shook his hand.

Miss Henderson smelt the strong perfume and looked up as Harriet strolled into reception. She had bought Aunt Sylvia’s favourite scent, Chanel No. 5. She wore a black straw hat and a fawn and gold braided two-piece Chanel suit from the latest collection, a black mink draped around her shoulders. Her high heels made her even taller, and Miss Henderson gasped.

‘Would you tell Mr Edward Barkley I’m here?’

Flustered, Miss Henderson looked at Edward’s appointment book, but could see nothing further listed for the day. ‘I’m so sorry, do you have an appointment, Miss...?’

‘Just tell him it’s Mrs Barkley, would you, Mrs Harriet Barkley?’

Miss Henderson blushed and apologized profusely. She had never met Harriet. As she buzzed through on the intercom, Harriet picked up a glossy magazine.

Edward flicked off the intercom, relieved and angry at the same time. He opened his office door and stood back as Miss Henderson ushered Harriet in. He was speechless.