Warhol's Prophecy (33 page)

Nothing had been taken. Nothing had been damaged.

Whoever had broken in had done it not for gain, but merely to prove a point. And that point had been admirably illustrated. The intruder had got in easily once. A second time would be a formality.

Hailey checked her watch.

Another forty minutes before she had to collect Becky from school.

She had time.

There was something she must do.

‘W
HAT WAS
A
DAM
Walker doing
here
?’

Hailey Gibson looked at Caroline Hacket with a curious mixture of anger and bemusement.

‘It’s a free country, Hailey,’ Caroline told her.

‘But what did he want?’ Hailey demanded.

Caroline sighed.

‘He came to talk,’ she said quietly. ‘Mostly about
you
, if it makes you feel any better. You hurt him, Hailey.’

‘Well, I’m so sorry about that.’

‘You should be.’

‘What bullshit has he been giving you, Caroline?’

‘You led him on.
I
told you that. He just wanted to know why you wouldn’t talk to him.’

‘I
did
talk to him. I told him to keep away from me.’

‘Perhaps it was the
way
you did it that he didn’t like.’

‘So you’re on
his
side now?’

‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous. It isn’t a matter of sides.’

‘It sounds as if it is. Why did he come here in the first place?’

‘I told you. He needed someone to talk to.’

‘So you obliged? Very thoughtful. I suppose the fact that you fancy him has got nothing to do with it?’

‘He came here. We talked. About you. About my books. He stayed for lunch. That was it. And to be perfectly honest, Hailey, it’s none of your business whom I have lunch with. Just because you don’t want to speak to him any more doesn’t mean
I
have to ignore him.’

‘What time did he leave?’

‘About half-past two. Why?’

Hailey exhaled deeply.

‘I think he might have broken into the house this afternoon,’ she said finally.

‘
What?
’ Caroline asked, a slight smile on her lips. ‘Why the hell would he want to do that?’

‘Revenge.’

‘And what did he take?’

‘Nothing. But he was in our bedroom
and
in Becky’s.’

‘Was any damage done?’

Hailey shook her head.

‘You can’t accuse Adam of something like that,’ said Caroline. ‘Not without proof. What sort of man do you think he is?’

‘He was angry with me for not speaking to him.’

‘I don’t blame him, but that was no reason for him to break into your house.’

‘I think it gave him
every
reason.’

‘Then why didn’t he steal something – ransack the place?’

‘He wanted to show me he could get into the house any time he wanted to.’

‘And what do you think he’s going to do if he
does
break in again? Murder you all in your beds?’

‘You don’t know
what
he might do.’

‘Be careful, Hailey. Your paranoia’s showing.’

‘Don’t patronize me, Caroline,’ Hailey snapped. ‘I know what I saw.’

‘What
did
you see? Just let me refresh your memory. You say Adam Walker broke into your house, but he took nothing and he damaged nothing, right? Where is your proof that it was him?’

‘Who else would do something like that?’

‘Have you told Rob yet?’

‘I’m going to sort this out myself. I’m going round there tomorrow to speak to Adam and tell him to stop what he’s doing.’

‘You’ve got no proof he’s doing
anything
,’ Caroline reminded her.

‘Why are you defending him?’

‘Because you’re making him a scapegoat for your own guilt.’

‘What guilt?’ rasped Hailey. ‘Nothing happened between us.’

Caroline regarded her impassively.

‘Did you fuck him while he was here?’ Hailey wanted to know.

‘What difference does it make if I did or not?
You
don’t care about him.
Do
you?’

Hailey looked away from her.

‘Do you?’ Caroline persisted.

‘I don’t want him in my life,’ Hailey said flatly.

‘Good. Then leave him alone.’

‘He’s the one pestering
me.
Sending flowers, phoning all the bloody time, trying to speak to me. I didn’t ask him for that. I don’t know why
you
have to get involved with him.’

‘I like him.’

‘I
know
that.’

‘It’s
my
life, Hailey. If you can’t cope with it, I’m sorry.’

The two women gazed at each other for a moment longer, then Hailey reached for her car keys.

‘I’d better go,’ she said brusquely.

‘Yes,’ Caroline added quietly. ‘I think that might be best.’

She heard the front door slam as her friend left, followed moments later by the sound of the Astra’s engine.

Caroline waited a moment, then crossed to the phone.

‘A
M
I
BORING
you, Miss Gibson?’

Hailey looked directly at Nicholas Barber and saw a look of mild irritation on his face.

‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’ she asked, forcing a smile and shifting uncomfortably in her chair. She swallowed hard, aware that the MP’s gaze had settled on her unwaveringly.

At other tables in the restaurant, people chatted amiably, and the babble of their conversation mingled with the chinking of cutlery on crockery. The odd loud laugh punctuated the background hubbub.

Come on, get a grip.

‘Your attention seemed to be wandering,’ said Barber. ‘I realize that’s something of an occupational hazard in
my
position. People don’t exactly tend to hang on my every word.’

She met the MP’s stare and ran a hand through her hair.

Barber pushed a spoonful of crème brulée into his mouth.

He was a narrow-shouldered individual with pinched features and enough grey hair to suggest that he lied about his age. Hailey had figured him for mid-fifties, but he insisted he was yet to reach the half-century. But then again, she reasoned, he was a politician. Why should he be truthful about his age when he spent his life lying about everything else?

‘I
was
listening,’ Hailey assured him. ‘There’s so much to think about, though. The organization behind this gig is incredible.’

‘Well, fortunately, that’s
your
problem not mine, Miss Gibson.’

‘
Mrs
Gibson,’ she corrected him.

It was Barber’s turn to look bemused.

‘So, how many guest passes will you want for the gig, Mr Barber?’ Hailey said finally.

‘I think half a dozen should cover it.’

‘Well, we are trying to limit them to two per person, it being a charity event.’

Barber shook his head. ‘And how many are the pop group themselves getting?’ he wanted to know.

‘I’m not sure yet. That side of it is being handled by their record company. And it is
their
gig after all.’

‘I was under the impression this was Jim Marsh’s event.’

‘There wouldn’t
be
an event without Waterhole,’ Hailey reminded him.

Barber sat back in his seat, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

‘I’ve known Jim Marsh for years,’ he said. ‘I knew him when he didn’t have a pot to piss in.’

Hailey tried to hide her surprise at the MP’s words.

‘I was a local councillor and he was running a business with just two people working for him,’ Barber said. ‘Things have changed for both of us,
Mrs
Gibson. He’s a multi-millionaire employing eighty people in this town alone. He’s created jobs, and that’s good for the community. I’ve done my bit, too. I’ve been MP for this borough for the last fifteen years. I’ve served it well. It’s flourished, and I like to think that people like myself and Jim Marsh can claim some responsibility for its vibrancy.’

Pompous bastard.

Hailey sipped her cappuccino.

‘I’m sure everyone who lives here is grateful to you, Mr Barber,’ she said, barely able to hide her sarcasm.

All she wanted to do was get away from the rambling sod. She had other things on her mind.

Lunch had taken an eternity, or so it seemed. More than once she’d chanced a surreptitious glance at her watch.

‘Yes, this concert will be good for the town,’ Barber decided. ‘It’ll bring more money in. My family are looking forward to it, so I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.’ He smiled and leant forward. ‘Do
you
have family?’

She told him about Rob and Becky.

‘And they’ll be attending the concert, will they?’ Barber wanted to know.

‘Yes.’

‘And the party afterwards?’

Hailey nodded.

‘How many guests will be at the party?’ Barber enquired.

‘Fifty or sixty. We’re running competitions in a number of music magazines too, so there’ll be four winners there to meet the band.’

‘A pop group
and
a Member of Parliament,’ Barber said smugly. ‘It should be a night to remember for them.’

‘I’m sure it will be,’ Hailey said in her most convincingly reverential tone.

They won’t even know who you are.

‘So, you’ll see that I have all the passes I need?’ Barber persisted.

Hailey nodded resignedly.

Anything. Just let me out of here.

It was Barber’s turn to check his watch.

‘Well, I’ve just got time for a brandy,’ he smiled. ‘This is going on your expense account, I trust?’

Hailey ordered him his drink and herself another coffee.

The restaurant was beginning to empty. There were only three or four tables still occupied. Elsewhere, the staff were busy clearing up, some of them glancing over in the direction of Hailey and Barber.

‘Here’s to a successful concert,’ said the MP, raising his glass.

Hailey smiled dutifully. Again she looked fleetingly at her watch.

There were things she had to do.

One in particular.

H
AILEY PARKED THE
Astra about a hundred yards from Adam Walker’s house and sat behind the wheel motionless.

The street was relatively empty of vehicles and, if Walker was home, she didn’t want him to see her. Not just yet.

During the drive she had gone over in her mind what she would say to him. Rehearsed her part of the conversation until she knew it by heart. Decided what she was going to say to him, and how. She wasn’t going to lose her temper. She wasn’t going to raise her voice. She just wanted to speak to him.

If you’d spoken to him in the beginning, then none of this would have happened.

She sucked in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly.

Her heart was thudding insistently in her chest.

Afraid to face him?

She swung herself out of the car and locked it, checking her reflection in the window before she set off towards his house.

Be firm, not rude. Just firm.

Her heels clicked on the pavement as she walked. The only sound, it seemed, in the stillness of the thoroughfare.

There were two or three birds singing in the trees that lined the street, but apart from that she seemed to be alone.

Hailey paused at the entrance to the short driveway that led to Walker’s house, gazing at the dwelling for long moments before finally heading towards the front door.

Keep calm.

Walker’s Scorpio wasn’t in the drive.

It could be in the garage, she reasoned.

He was probably in.

Watching you from one of the windows. Waiting for you.

She reached the front door, hesitated a minute, then rang the doorbell.

Her heart was beating even faster now.

Why are
you
concerned?
He’s
the one in the wrong. He’s the one who should be apologizing for what
he’s
done. The dog shit through the letterbox, the slashed tyres on Rob’s car, the break-in. He should be grateful you didn’t call the police.