False Diamond--An Abbot Agency Mystery by Veronica Heley

each company. Recently he has, I believe, relied too much on a favourite few to run his organization … but there, he tells me he keeps them on their toes by swapping the managers around from one branch of the organization to another.’
    â€˜Gracious!’ Bea’s mind went into free-fall, thinking of the manager of a hire-car firm suddenly being asked to run … ‘Ah. Is that what happened to Holland and Butcher?’
    â€˜Correct. He relies on that particular firm for servants to keep his household running smoothly. For years he had a general manager who was reasonably competent and kept the house going. When that man retired, my brother appointed a man named Butcher, who turned out to be a poor choice.’
    Bea grimaced. ‘Indeed. He’s currently languishing in prison. And this man Benton came from where? Don’t tell me! The hire-car firm?’
    â€˜Exactly. My brother appears to promote people who promise him the earth, so long as he himself doesn’t have to make any effort. His companies have done well enough for him in the past but they’ve all taken a dip in the recession, and this has affected the dividends upon which my sister lives. Holland and Butcher’s results have been spectacularly bad. Sybil contacted me when she found that her dividend there had been cut to the bone. She wanted me to do something about it. I declined. She announced she was coming over from the States to sort things out. She ordered me to meet her to discuss it.’
    â€˜So you did.’
    He refilled her glass and his. ‘Cheers. Yes, that was a mistake, wasn’t it? But I was at a loose end. I’d had a good offer for the dry-cleaning chain and was trying to decide whether or not to sell. I’ve always worked. What would I do with my time if I sold out? I’d almost decided to carry on when …’ He looked into his drink.
    â€˜Everything changed, overnight. I’d had a twenty-five-year relationship with a businesswoman who refused to marry me, didn’t know how to cook and didn’t care to try, but was a wonderful companion and great in bed. She had an aneurysm. Nothing could have been done. No one knew anything about it. The day after the funeral I signed the papers to get rid of the dry-cleaner’s and put the house we’d shared on to the market. I took a short lease out on a service flat and moved into it, but didn’t unpack. I thought I might take a long holiday. I thought it was probably stupid of me to look up the family, but when my sister actually phoned me – something she’d never done in all those years – I decided to look them up.
    â€˜I rang my brother, said I was thinking of spending a few days in London. True to form, he said immediately that he didn’t have any room for me – despite living in a country mansion – since our sister was going to be moving in with him for the duration of her visit. I didn’t tell him that I’d fully intended to book myself into Claridge’s or the Ritz and treat myself for once, because he seemed to think I’d need a bed and breakfast somewhere cheap. He said that his right-hand man, Benton, would make arrangements for me to stay somewhere suitable.
    â€˜Benton duly rang and asked me to have lunch with him. A steak house. Medium rare, as you might say. Not first rate but middling. It was clear he’d been making enquiries about me, knew I’d sold my company. He went on about how H & B was in great shape but needed capital to take over a domestic agency. He said it was divine providence that I would be able to join the board of directors and invest in the family business at this point in time. I knew rather more about the poor balance sheet than he imagined and I’d taken a dislike to him so, in a moment of divine inspiration, I informed him that I was head over ears in hock to the Inland Revenue. That I was, in fact, an undischarged bankrupt.