Mismatch: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 4) (A Winning Ace Novel) Page 7

  Crap. He’d be newsworthy. The owner of one of the biggest privately owned gaming companies in the world, best buds with a former world number-one tennis player, a father who was an ex-copper. As soon as the press got wind of this, he was fucked.

  He wasn’t alone in the van. Sitting opposite was a guy in his early twenties who had every inch of his visible skin tattooed, including his face. As he made eye contact with Rupe, he sneered and then made a noise in his throat before landing a large globule of spit on Rupe’s shoe. He caught sight of Rupe’s face, and he threw back his head and laughed.

  Dear God, Jayne. Do your life’s best work, and get me the fuck out of here.

  A short while later, the van stopped, and the back doors opened. Rupe was led into the courthouse and taken to the cells below ground. After five minutes, Jayne turned up and gave him a reassuring smile as she was let into the cell.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Terrible. I will get bail, won’t I?”

  Jayne grimaced. “I’m not sure. I’ve spoken to Darren, and we’ve gone through the details of the application, but given the seriousness of the offence, there’s no guarantee. It depends on the magistrate we get allocated.”

  Rupe clutched her arm. “Jayne, you have to get me bail. I can’t stay in here.”

  His breathing escalated so quickly that his head began to spin, and he put out an arm to steady himself.

  “Hey, stay calm for me, okay?” Jayne’s soothing voice broke through his panic. “You’re not exactly a flight risk. I’m going to do my best. Are you sure you don’t want Darren to represent you?”

  Rupe violently shook his head. His hopes plummeted. He was going to prison.

  It was another three hours before he was taken from the cells and placed into the square box in the courtroom, an officer close by in case he decided to make a run for it. Rupe focused on the back of Jayne’s head as the magistrate called the court to order and the charges were read out.

  He could barely take in the words. His head was full of cotton wool as he desperately tried to follow what was going on. Nessa’s husband was sitting in the public gallery. Rupe had never seen such loathing on a man’s face. He could hardly blame him. Even though their marriage had been for show, according to Nessa, the man must have had some feelings for her. Remorse swept over Rupe. He’d never considered the husband during his trysts with Ness. To him, like his whole fucking life, it had been a bit of a laugh, some fun to liven up his occasional visits to London. What a dickhead he was.

  “Rupert Fox-Whittingham. You have been charged with the murder of Mrs Vanessa Reynolds. What is your plea?”

  “Not guilty,” Rupe replied in a voice that was not his own.

  Jayne stood. “Your Honour, I’d like to make an application for bail.”

  The prosecution lawyer leaped to his feet. “Your Honour, I vehemently oppose. Let’s not forget, this is a murder charge.”

  The magistrate peered over the top of her glasses at the prosecution lawyer. “Thank you for telling me how to do my job, Mr Turner.”

  As Turner blushed, the magistrate pointed to Jayne. “Well, Ms Seymour. Let’s hear it.”

  Rupe’s head began to swim, and Jayne’s voice drifted away as she pleaded his case for bail. Christ, prison was a real possibility. Prison. Him. He’d always stayed on the right side of the law. Some of his business dealings pushed the boundaries, but that was what business was about. That was what separated the winners from the losers.

  He forced himself to focus on Jayne’s appeal on his behalf.

  “Your Honour, I will end my application with this. My client is a successful businessman with a clean record. He has various business concerns in the UK, which I submit to the court makes him an unlikely flight risk. In addition, we volunteer to surrender his passport until such time as the trial concludes.”

  Rupe held his breath, silently willing the magistrate to see things his way. She leaned back in her chair and removed her glasses. After a quick sweep of her hand across her eyes, she replaced them and fixed her gaze on Jayne.

  “Given the circumstances and Mr Fox-Whittingham’s clean record, bail is granted. Your client will sign in at his local police station every day at four p.m., Ms Seymour. Is that clear?”

  “Your Honour, I object,” Turner said.

  “Duly noted, Mr Turner. Bail stands.”

  As Rupe’s shoulders sagged with relief, he vaguely heard Jayne reply, “Thank you, Your Honour.”

  He was free.

  And now he had to find out what had really happened to Nessa, because as far as the police were concerned, they’d found their culprit.

  11

  Jayne pushed a large whiskey over the table and sat opposite Rupe, nursing a glass of iced water flavoured with a slice of lemon.

  “I owe you, big time,” Rupe said, taking a large swig of the amber liquid. As it burned down his throat, he’d never felt more alive.

  “Don’t get too happy just yet. The hard work is ahead of us. You didn’t kill Vanessa Reynolds, but someone did—unless she shot herself full of heroin, which is highly unlikely given what you’ve told me.”

  Rupe nodded. “There’s no way. Nessa wasn’t that sort of girl. She liked a drink, sure, but hard drugs? Not a chance.”

  “What about the husband?” Jayne said. “That was him in court, correct?”

  Guilt swarmed through him once more. “Yeah. I’m not exactly his favourite person.”

  Jayne’s mouth tightened around the edges. “Did he know you were having an affair with his wife?”

  “I have no idea. According to Nessa, theirs was a marriage of convenience, although I don’t know why they had that sort of agreement. From what she told me, he liked to have a pretty woman on his arm, and in return, she enjoyed the financial security he provided. She did love him, I think, but Nessa was… ahem… a woman with needs, so to speak, and her husband didn’t meet them. At least, that’s what she told me.”

  Jayne raised an eyebrow. “He goes down as a person of interest. If he’d been the one in bed with her, he’d have been number one on the police’s suspect list.”

  “Instead, I was the lucky bastard.” Rupe shuddered. “I still can’t believe I slept next to a dead body.”

  Jayne flashed him a look of admonishment. “You’re all heart, Rupert.”

  Rupe waved his hand in the air. “Oh, you know what I mean. I’m sorry Nessa is dead. Of course I am, but she wasn’t exactly the love of my life, so if you’re expecting me to throw myself on her funeral pyre… well, that’s unlikely to happen.”

  She took a sip of water. “Okay, who else? The guy who says he sold you heroin. Are you sure you don’t know him?”

  “One hundred per cent sure. Not exactly the type of person I mix with.”

  “Well, we need to find out everything about him and what he’s got against you or who paid him to lie.”

  “Cash has a great PI he’s used before. I’ll get the guy’s number from him.”

  Jayne tilted her head to the side. “What did your friend need with the services of a private investigator?”

  “Oh, Tally—that’s his wife—well, they split up in the early stage of their relationship, and she did a runner. Cash hired a PI to track her down.”

  Jayne’s brow furrowed. “A little stalkerish.”

  Rupe shrugged. “Not really. If you knew them, you’d understand. She’s the centre of his whole universe. He lives for her. Their breakup was a complete misunderstanding. There was no way Cash was going to lose the love of his life over a stupid mix-up.”

  “You’re fond of them?”

  He nodded. “I haven’t even told him what’s happened yet. Christ, I haven’t even told my dad.”

  Jayne tapped her pen against her teeth, a habit Rupe had begun to notice and which he found terribly endearing. A frown drifted across her face.

  “Have you ever met Detective Fisher before?” she asked.

  “No. I’ve never even had a speeding tick
et. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m not sure. Something’s niggling me. He was completely professional but…” She blew a heavy breath through her nose. “He doesn’t like you.”

  Rupe laughed. “Oh, I got that message, loud and clear. If you ask me, he’s one of those guys who despise wealthy people. Works his arse off for sixteen hours a day and barely makes ends meet, so he’s bitter about those who have more.”

  “Maybe.” She wrinkled her nose. “There’s just something off with that guy. It’ll come to me. Probably at three in the morning.” She glanced at her watch. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. I’m back in court this afternoon.” She began to gather her papers together. After slotting them in her briefcase, she drank the last of her water and patted his hand. Sparks shot up his arm, and he placed his hand over hers. He fixed his gaze on her.

  “Jayne,” he began, but he didn’t get any further. She pulled her hand out from underneath his and shook her head.

  “Don’t, Rupe. You’re my client, and you’re in a lot of trouble. Let’s not complicate this.”

  He swallowed his disappointment. With the arrival of the murder charge, the slim chance of anything happening between them had disappeared. Even if they both wanted to make something happen, he could be looking at fifteen to life. Who would want to stick around for that?

  “What happens now?” he said.

  “You get the PI that your friend knows onto finding out what he can about the heroin dealer. Might be worth mentioning Fisher to him too. It wouldn’t do any harm to know a bit more about him. Make a list of everyone, and I mean everyone, Rupert, who may have a beef with you. Business rivals, ex-girlfriends, jealous husbands.”

  She raised an eyebrow as Rupe winced at her inference.

  “I mean it. I’ll go over everything with Darren. I’m also going to talk to a friend I have in the force and see what he can find out about the victim’s husband. I’ll be in touch.”

  She rose from her chair. Her hand briefly clasped his shoulder before the gentle touch was gone, and when he turned around, so had she.

  Rupe glanced at his watch. Three fifteen. Better get going. He had to report in at the cop shop at four, and then he was driving over to Gloucestershire to see Cash and Tally.

  When Rupe pulled up outside Cash’s home, a sense of calm settled over him. He might not see as much of his friends these days, given how busy they were with the kids, their charity work, and Tally’s rather successful writing career, but it didn’t matter. Whenever the three of them got together, it was as if they’d never been apart.

  Before he’d even reached the front door, Tally had opened it. His godson, Cian, was clinging to her hand, but when he saw Rupe, a broad smile spread across his face. He tore away from Tally’s grasp and ran outside.

  “Uncle Rupe,” he said, flinging himself into Rupe’s outstretched arms.

  “Hey, buddy. Wow, how big are you getting?” Rupe swung Cian in the air before settling him on top of his shoulders.

  “Glad you made it,” Tally said, a growing look of concern on her face. “Is everything okay?”

  Rupe shook his head slightly to let her know they would need to speak when little ears weren’t around.

  “Right, come on in,” she said. “Cash has taken Darcey to dance lessons, but they should be back in fifteen minutes.”

  Rupe chuckled at the idea of Cash having to put up with countless excitable little girls all dancing around a studio, no doubt squealing at the tops of their voices. He settled on the couch as Cian begged him to play computer games. He succumbed, and after a few minutes, his shoulders settled into their normal place, and the tension he’d been carrying around since Nessa’s death left him.

  When Cash got home with Darcey, Rupe played the fun uncle with the two kids until Tally called for bedtime. She hustled the children upstairs while Cash sorted the drinks. Once Tally returned, she and Cash hit Rupe with their perfectly bookended hard stares.

  “I’ve been charged with Nessa’s murder.”

  Tally gasped as her hand flew over her mouth, and Cash straightened up quickly. Rupe could have sworn his spine had been replaced with a steel pole.

  “What the fuck?” he bit out.

  “Took the words out of my mouth,” Rupe said.

  Cash frowned. “What evidence do they think they have?”

  “She died of a heroin overdose. Apparently, there’s a guy who reckons he sold me a truckload of the stuff the day before she died.”

  “What a crock of shit.”

  “We know that,” Rupe said. “Sadly, the courts are going to need a bit more to go on.”

  Cash teased his beard with his fingertips. “How’s the lawyer working out? If she’s no good, I’ll give Darren a call and tell him to take over.”

  A slow grin spread across Rupe’s face, despite the fucked-up situation. “Oh no you won’t. She’s the only good thing to come out of this.”

  Cash raised an eyebrow. “Even with your life on the line, you’re still thinking with your cock.”

  Rupe laughed. “Like you were any different before you met this gorgeous girl,” he said, pulling Tally into a warm hug. As she settled into his side, he could feel her trembling. He kissed her temple. “Don’t worry, darling. You know me. I was born lucky.” He turned to Cash. “I need the contact details for that PI you’ve used in the past. Jayne wants him looking into the drug addict to see if he can dig anything up.”

  Cash nodded. “Frank. He’s good. Very thorough and discreet. I’ll call him now, set up a meeting at your place for tomorrow.”

  “At least I got bail. Could have easily been on remand if Jayne hadn’t been so bloody brilliant in court.”

  Tally lifted her head. “Want to stay the night?”

  Rupe gave her a squeeze. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Tally fetched beers for him and Cash and then left the two of them alone.

  “You’re so lucky with that one,” Rupe said with a fond smile at Tally’s retreating back. “I envy you. Marriage, kids, the two of you so happy and settled.”

  Cash raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re finally growing up, Witters?”

  Rupe grinned even as Cash’s teasing hit a nerve. “Maybe.”

  “It’ll all work out,” Cash said, taking a long pull on his bottle.

  “I sure hope so,” Rupe said, sounding less than convinced even as he tried to be optimistic.

  “Seems to me the police don’t have much to go on. A scum-of-the-earth drug pusher fingers a rich, successful businessman? Sounds circumstantial at best. At worst, it’s a police fuck-up of epic proportions.”

  “I was the last to see her alive, and there’s no disputing the toxicology reports. I didn’t shoot her full of heroin, but unless she did it herself, which I don’t believe, someone did.”

  Cash ran a hand over his face. “You’ll tell me if there’s anything you need?”

  Rupe nodded. “You’ve already done me a massive favour.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I met Jayne.”

  “You’re serious?” Incredulity leaked into Cash’s tone.

  “Deadly.” Rupe swung his bottle in the air before taking a drink. “I feel differently about this one. Unfortunately for me, not only does Jayne vehemently disagree about mixing business with pleasure, but she’s also in the middle of a messy divorce from a man who cheated on her, which—given the situation with Nessa—doesn’t exactly make me come across as the best choice. Still, I’m working on it.”

  “Wow,” Cash said, a broad grin spreading across his face. “You’ve joined the pussy-whipped club. I’ve waited years for this.”

  Rupe flipped his middle finger in the air. “Fuck you,” he said to Cash’s roaring laughter.

  The following morning, Rupe snuck out of the house before the kids woke. He left Tally a thank-you note and a promise to keep Cash up to date. He had to get ready for his meeting with Frank, and he had an urge to see Jayne—an urge that grew with every passing hour. Des
pite her aversion to having a personal relationship with her client, he couldn’t get her out of his head. This was his first experience of a woman burrowing her way beneath his skin, and the feeling was intoxicating and addictive.

  The roads were fairly clear until he hit the M4 by Heathrow, and then it took him a good two hours to crawl the last few miles home. Christ, he missed the boat. There were no traffic jams out on the ocean. Given the black cloud hanging over his head, it would be some time before he could experience the freedom of the seas again. As that thought crept into his mind, an overwhelming sense of loss crashed over him. This could be the end of life as he knew it. Regardless of the outcome of the trial, his name would be dragged through the mud, and some of it was bound to stick.

  As he entered his house, the smell of strong coffee wafted down the hallway. God bless Abi. The kitchen was empty, but the coffee pot was full. He poured himself a cup and was scrabbling about in the fridge when Abi joined him.

  “You’re back,” she said, giving him a motherly hug even though she was only about ten years older than he. “How are Cash and Tally?”

  Rupe extricated himself, but Abi’s warm welcome brought a smile to his lips. He was lucky to have her in his corner.

  “They’re good. Kids too. Listen, Abi, I’m expecting a visitor shortly. When he arrives, can you show him through to the drawing room and then make yourself scarce? Take the rest of the day off.”

  Abi frowned. “Okay, if you’re sure. There’s a veggie lasagne in the fridge for your dinner this evening. Just put it in the oven on one eighty for thirty minutes.”

  “Actually, I’m going out for dinner tonight.”

  “Oh.” She shrugged. “No bother. It’ll freeze.”

  She made Rupe some breakfast, and he took it through into the drawing room. He’d just finished eating when Abi tapped on the door.

  “Your visitor is here,” she said, waving a medium height, middle-aged guy with grey hair and pronounced jowls into the room.

  Rupe stood as Abi closed the door. “Frank,” he said, sticking his hand out. “Thanks for coming at such short notice.”