Kissed a sad goodbye - Deborah Crombie [118]
“Teresa, if this has something to do with Reg, you’re better off telling us now. You could make yourself an accessory if you’re protecting him out of some mistaken sense of loyalty.”
“No, I don’t know anything, honestly. It’s just …” She hesitated, then said in a rush, “Have you ever done something so stupid that you think you must have taken leave of your senses?”
Involuntarily, Gemma thought of dancing with Gordon Finch in the park. Had Teresa been as susceptible to Reg? “Why don’t you tell me about it?” she said gently.
“No, I …”
Teresa jumped as the phone rang, and after a glance at Gemma fumbled it off the hook. She listened, murmuring an occasional reply, then gently returned the phone to its cradle.
“That was Mr. Hammond. He’s requesting a meeting of the board tomorrow morning, at Martin Lowell’s insistence.”
“And this means—”
“They’ll decide who’s going to take over Annabelle’s job as managing director.”
“Is it between you and Reg, then?” asked Gemma.
“Unless William decides to take over again himself. Or they could bring someone in from outside.” Teresa reached for a stack of papers, put them back, and looked about distractedly. “I’ve the financial reports to prepare.…”
Gemma leaned forward. “Teresa, you need to tell me what’s happened between you and Reg. You can’t judge what bearing it has on our investigation.”
Teresa shook her head firmly, but Gemma saw that the fair skin on her throat had suffused with color. “No, I can’t. I won’t. I’ve just been a silly cow, because I wanted to think I could offer some comfort—” She swallowed and her hands moved over the papers again. “But it wasn’t comfort he wanted. He wanted to get back at Annabelle, make it even, because he found out what she’d done. And I just happened to be convenient.”
“Teresa, did you sleep with Reg? Is that what you’re saying? If he confided in you—”
Teresa smiled. “Apparently, he hasn’t told me half as much as he’s told you. I can’t help you.” She rose. “I’ve the data to prepare for the financial reports, and it looks as though I’ll be putting together the marketing reports as well, since Reg has made himself scarce.”
Knowing she’d get no further at the moment, Gemma took a card from her handbag and placed it on Teresa’s desk. “You ring me if you want to talk, or if you think of anything you haven’t told me. Anytime, day or night, all right?”
When Teresa nodded, Gemma took her leave, but stood for a moment on the catwalk, looking down at the main floor of the warehouse. She thought about the relationships among the people who had come together in this building, bound by a web of concealments and half-truths that had just become exponentially more complicated. Because she knew something now she hadn’t known half an hour ago.
If her instincts served her right, Teresa Robbins was in love with Reg Mortimer, and Reg had taken full advantage of the fact. But to what purpose?
• • •
AS REG TIED HIS TIE IN his dressing table mirror, he thought of Annabelle, of how he had liked to watch her when she was getting ready to go out. She had made up her face with such concentration, like an artist putting the finishing touches on a painting, but the end result had been almost invisible—she had simply been more beautiful.
She had been as self-absorbed as a grooming cat, and at the time he had found it amusing. But that detachment had carried over into other aspects of their relationship, and he wondered now how he had found it acceptable. Even in bed she had always seemed somehow removed from him, as if there were some part of her he could never reach. Had she been that way with the others, too?
The thought made him feel physically ill, and the sweat broke out again on his forehead. This morning when he left Teresa’s, he’d meant to go straight into work after coming home to shower and dress. But by the time he reached his building, he’d felt so unwell he collapsed on the sofa until the spasms in his stomach had subsided.
Everything in his life seemed to be crumbling