“I’m sorry to press you.” Jeremy turned and put one arm over the fence, leaning in towards Michelle. “But I can’t do anything unless I know you’re on the level. Can you verify any of this?”
Michelle reached into her bag and took out a sheaf of papers. One contained an architect’s blueprint for the casino complex. Another was a list of boxes to be ticked before the planning application could be made, with names of collaborators peppered about the text. The final sheet was a first draft of a legal document pertaining to planning applications, signed and notarised by Charles Cordwainer and his friendly neighbourhood solicitor.
“I…see.” He stared at them. “Do you need these?”
“Take them. They’re photocopies of photocopies. Obviously Cordwainer has the originals.”
“Are you his…PA?” Jeremy looked up, seeming to search Michelle’s face for signs of her relationship to the object of their conversation.
“No. I’m…it’s personal.”
“Oh.” Jeremy bit his lip for a moment and Michelle knew he was trying to back up the million questions that this statement had set in motion. “Forgive me for asking—of course, you needn’t reply. But I’ve been interested in Cordwainer for a while, and I haven’t managed to uncover any signs of a personal life. Until now.”
“He’s a very private person. Except…he isn’t really.”
“I see. Well, no, I don’t see.”
“I could certainly interest a tabloid in his tastes. If I was that kind of woman. If I needed the money. Which I don’t.”
“You don’t want payment?”
“No. I just want…justice.”
“He has mistreated you?”
“I don’t suppose he’d think so but…” Michelle’s voice cracked. The tears she had been fighting for days made their renewed presence felt. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Look, do you want to come and sit down? In my car?”
He took her arm and led the quietly sobbing woman back to the car park, helping her into the passenger seat of his 4x4. There he let her cry on his shoulder until, mascara wrecked and eyes red, she was able to blow her nose and return to coherence.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I haven’t said anything to anyone…I didn’t realise how hard it would be to say the words.”
“You must have loved him.”
“I did. I still do…except I hate him. Oh, I don’t know. I’m a mess. I should never have got involved.”
“How did you?”
“I worked for him. Managed one of his bed-and-breakfast places.”
“And you fell for…what? Power? Magnetism? Charm?”
“All of those. Well, maybe not charm. He is very charismatic and very forceful. Hard to say no to.”
“Well, the majority of our councillors would agree. He obviously has some stellar powers of persuasion. But over time you came to realise that he wasn’t all you thought he was? Did he do something to hurt you?”
“Yes, he did something to hurt me. He likes hurting people, you see. He’s interested in…I don’t know…watching how his actions cause reactions. It’s all quite scientific, dispassionate even. He doesn’t care about people at all.”
“Is he a sadist?”
“Yes. That’s part of it. He likes to inflict all kinds of pain, not just physical. And he needs control of everything. Lovers, friends, towns. I think he’s an old-fashioned megalomaniac. He would just love to take over the world.”
Jeremy half smiled. “Bit of a Dr. Evil character, you’d say?”
She chuckled ruefully. “God, yes. And it took me so long to work it out. I’m obviously just a clueless bimbo. Absolutely his type, though—so easy to manipulate and control.”
“So there was quite a kinky element in your relationship? Power play? Dominance and submission?”