The Verdict: BookShots (A Jon Roscoe Thriller) Read online

  She touched her fingers to her face, tasting blood on her lips, as the clerk read the verdict aloud.

  Guilty.

  CHAPTER 27

  SEATED IN FRONT of the main monitor in the hotel’s security control room, Roscoe saw the call request come in from Josh Jameson and instantly hit the Accept key.

  ‘Josh, what have you got for me?’ asked Roscoe.

  ‘Hey, Chief, look, I’ve spoken to an old contact at New South Wales Police and they’ve made some calls north for me. From what I can make out, most things are pretty much as reported in the press at the time. A beautiful summer’s evening, waters were real still, but somehow in the middle of the night Barbara Turner ends up overboard. She and Harvey had been out on the water all day, and seemingly both spent pretty much most of that time drinking. The record shows a call was made to the coastguard soon after five in the morning, and at that point a full search-and-rescue operation was put into place, but it was too late.’

  ‘And who made that call?’

  ‘Captain of the boat, on the instruction of Harvey Rylands.’

  ‘But definitely no call until five a.m.?’

  ‘No, and the overall timeline is a little bit shaky. Rylands reported they’d both been drinking until past two in the morning. Crew on board was small, but nobody gave evidence suggesting otherwise. Harvey said his wife had gone to bed around two-thirty, but he’d poured himself another drink, fell asleep in the lounge. Two hours later he went down to their cabin – and no sign of Barbara Turner. He raised the alarm, a search of the boat followed and not long after came the call to the coastguard.’

  ‘No one saw her fall?’

  ‘No, her body washed up twenty-four hours later.’

  ‘And the autopsy?’

  ‘High levels of blood-alcohol, but no surprise there. Her lungs were filled with water, which might suggest she was still breathing when she went overboard, but after more than twenty-four hours in the ocean her lungs would fill naturally. Verdict given as accidental death by drowning.’

  ‘Any luck with the passenger list?’

  ‘Barbara Turner and Harvey Rylands, along with three members of crew and Mrs Turner’s personal assistant. A woman called Amelia Madison.’

  CHAPTER 28

  ‘MADISON!’ ROSCOE PUSHED his chair back from his desk and jumped to his feet. ‘Josh, I owe you a beer!’

  Disconnecting the line and grabbing a camera from his desk, Roscoe ran out of the control room and sprinted up the two flights of stairs to the entrance level of the hotel. Crossing the foyer, he caught Anna’s eye as she welcomed two new guests to the hotel, and he enjoyed the look she gave him as he ran out through the front of the building.

  Heading down the driveway, he could see Stanley standing at the front gate.

  ‘Stanley,’ called Roscoe, as he approached his assistant. ‘What did you do with Michael Madison?’

  ‘Deposited him on the roadside,’ said Stanley, gesturing towards the media throng still gathered outside the hotel grounds. ‘My guess is he’s still hurting. You hit him pretty good.’

  ‘I hope I haven’t scared him off,’ said Roscoe, looking out into the huge melee of journalists and television crews.

  ‘Sorry, Boss?’

  ‘I need to speak to him again. You think he’s still around?’

  ‘He’ll still be hanging round alright – he’s that type. Even with a smack on the jaw and cracked fingers, he doesn’t know when he’s beaten.’

  ‘I have a feeling he might have more to tell us. I need to speak to him – fast.’

  Stanley indicated to the guard to raise the newly installed security barrier and headed out into the street outside the hotel. Walking alongside him, Roscoe was astonished by size of the media city, as press people took phone calls and television journalists talked into cameras.

  ‘Verdict’s in, Jon,’ said Stanley above the noise.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Guilty on all charges. I’m afraid it’s new accommodation for Mr Rylands tonight. No further need for his suite on the fourteenth floor,’ Stanley laughed. ‘He’s got some nice alternative housing waiting for him.’

  ‘Let’s hope he got what he deserves,’ said Roscoe, as they crossed the road towards the royal park.

  Stanley pointed ahead of them. ‘Over there, Boss,’ he said. ‘Sharing his war stories with one of his comrades.’

  ‘Thanks. If any more news from the Old Bailey comes through, let me have it,’ said Roscoe.

  He could see Madison sitting on the edge of the road, telling his story to another journalist. As he approached, Madison looked up.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ said Madison, still holding his jaw.

  ‘Is this what you call Tribeca luxury service?’ said the other journalist. ‘You nearly killed him. He was only trying to do his job.’

  ‘Is that right?’ said Roscoe. ‘And did he tell you how he kidnapped a seven-year-old girl and took her alone into one of the hotel suites?’

  ‘Really?’ said the journalist, looking first at Roscoe and then at Madison.

  ‘Yes, really,’ said Roscoe. ‘So why don’t take your misplaced sympathy, go across the road and join your fellow predators, to see what fresh prey you can hunt down.’

  As the journalist stood up and walked away, Madison looked up at Roscoe.

  ‘That wasn’t fair. You know it wasn’t like that with the girl.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry, but I need to talk to you alone,’ said Roscoe, dropping the camera he had picked up from his desk into Madison’s arms and taking a seat next to him on the kerb. ‘I’m guessing that’s yours?’

  ‘Would have been one for you to put up on your living-room wall – nice picture of you and the Prime Minister.’

  ‘Guess I’ll have to live without that.’

  ‘What do you want to talk to me about, anyway?’ said Madison.

  Roscoe knew he was the last person in the world the South African would want to speak to.

  ‘Tell me about Amelia Madison.’

  Surprised, Madison turned to look at Roscoe. ‘I didn’t think you’d be the one to ask me about her.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘I thought it would be one of that lot,’ said Madison, looking across at the world’s media.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because right now this is the biggest story in the world, and I thought someone might have had the brains to ask me about my part in it.’

  ‘But they didn’t?’

  ‘You’re the first,’ said Madison, with an ironic laugh. ‘Right now, everyone is talking about Harvey and the Prime Minister. I’m a footnote, lost somewhere in the dim-and-distant past, and that suits me just fine.’

  ‘A footnote in what way?’ asked Roscoe, knowing this had to come from Madison, to confirm his own growing suspicions.

  Madison rubbed his jaw and sighed.

  ‘As Amelia’s first husband, of course.’

  CHAPTER 29

  INVISIBLE TO THOSE around them, Roscoe and Madison remained seated on the roadside.

  ‘I wasn’t long out of school, travelling, working different jobs, not much more than a kid,’ explained Madison, sharing his life story in a way neither he nor Roscoe could have imagined earlier in the day. ‘Found myself drinking in a bar in Sydney with a load of Aussies, and Amelia was the girl bringing us beers. I remember us heading out that night after the bar closed, and her telling me she had no intention of spending the rest of her life waiting on other people. She was better than that, she said, she was going to have the best of everything, and in time people would be waiting on her. Whatever it took, that’s what she’d have. We laughed about it at the time. I had no idea how much she meant it.’

  Madison paused and looked over at his excited media colleagues, who were anticipating Amelia’s return to the hotel.

  ‘Go on,’ said Roscoe.

  ‘We started dating and I decided to stay. Got myself a job as a researcher for a local TV station in Sydney. Amelia quit the bar,
became assistant to the Chief Exec of a big shipping company. Soon after I moved on to the written press, and we got ourselves a nice apartment on the edge of the city. We were set.’

  Roscoe could see Madison was reluctant to say any more.

  ‘And then what? I need to know, Michael,’ he pushed.

  Madison turned away. ‘Amelia got pregnant. We were happy, or I thought we were. It was all I really wanted, but not Amelia. She came home one day and told me the baby was gone. I knew what she’d done.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Roscoe, thinking of the joy his own kids brought to him.

  ‘After that I guess it was only a matter of time until we went our separate ways, but I never imagined . . .’

  ‘What happened?’

  Madison turned back to Roscoe.

  ‘Amelia was offered a job working for Barbara Turner. Her company had used the shipping company Amelia worked for, and they’d been introduced at some charity fundraiser. Very quickly all I heard was “Barbara said this”, “Barbara said that”. Amelia couldn’t get enough of Barbara Turner, went everywhere with her, was dazzled by her. She had exactly what Amelia wanted – money, beautiful homes, fast cars, her own yacht.’

  ‘And now Amelia’s got all of them,’ said Roscoe.

  Madison shrugged.

  ‘It wasn’t too long before the stories changed from “Barbara and I did this deal” or “Barbara and I met this businessman” to “Harvey and I played tennis”, “Harvey and I went for lunch at the marina”, “Harvey is such fun”. Suddenly Harvey was the smart one.’ He paused. ‘I knew then . . .’

  ‘That they were having an affair?’

  ‘One of Harvey’s many. Except Amelia was different – a few nice gifts weren’t going to cut it. She wanted the lot.’

  ‘And she got it.’

  ‘Indeed. Three weeks after Barbara’s death she came to me and said she planned to marry Harvey and wanted a quick, uncontested divorce.’

  ‘She must have decided to reel him in while she had the chance,’ Roscoe said, certain that Amelia could be exceptionally persuasive when she wanted to be.

  ‘With the sweetener of a two-million dollar payment to me, I wasn’t going to stand in their way.’

  ‘Wow!’ exclaimed Roscoe.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Blood-money?’

  ‘At the time I didn’t think so. Amelia was on the yacht the night Barbara died, but she seemed genuinely cut up about what happened.’

  ‘Cut up for three weeks, until she offered you two million dollars for a divorce?’

  Madison laughed.

  ‘When I saw the reports of the attack on Elegant Daniels, my gut told me something was wrong. She was another woman who was close to Harvey: a challenge to Amelia.’

  Roscoe pulled the divorce papers out of his pocket and passed them to Madison.

  ‘Your gut was right – something is very wrong. You were looking in the right place and, with a bit more luck, you’d have found these.’

  Madison read the papers and whistled in surprise. ‘Barbara was going to divorce him? That would have left Harvey with nothing.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Barbara’s fortune was very well protected. Her mother had been the real brains, having built the business from nothing. She was absolutely dedicated to it. From what I remember, she didn’t have Barbara until she was in her mid-forties and not long after that she divorced her husband, who went off to sire your current Prime Minister. Barbara was raised by a single mother. That meant going into the office most days, travelling the world together and Barbara learning how deals were done. It was a great education for her. The only falling-out between mother and daughter came over Barbara’s plan to marry Harvey – a playboy who came with a wild reputation. Mother refused to hand the company over to her daughter unless the tightest of pre-nups was in place – meaning that Harvey would get not a penny more, not a penny less than one hundred thousand dollars if the marriage ever failed.’

  ‘But instead he inherited . . . ?’

  ‘Close to a billion dollars.’

  CHAPTER 30

  WHEN THE JURY delivered its verdict, a torrent of emotion swept across Amelia Rylands.

  A torrent of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

  She continued looking straight ahead at the judge, not for one second turning to look at her husband as he was led away from the court.

  As soon as the opportunity allowed, she quickly left the Old Bailey, jumped into her waiting sports car and drove herself back to the Tribeca Luxury Hotel.

  Reversing the car into a space close to the staff entrance, she briskly stepped out and walked through the hotel to ride the elevator to the fourteenth floor.

  She was elated.

  In her heart she knew Harvey would never have achieved anything without her.

  Who had planned the killing of Barbara Turner?

  Not Harvey.

  He didn’t have the strength.

  But she had given him her strength.

  She gave him everything.

  And then he’d betrayed her.

  How dare he tell her that he was leaving?

  Leaving her with nothing.

  Discarding her.

  And for no more than a dirty hooker.

  Standing in the elevator, Amelia’s face broke out into the broadest smile.

  She had won.

  As she walked down the hall, Amelia congratulated herself on committing the perfect crime.

  Attacking Elegant Daniels in her bed, smothering her in the exact same way Harvey had killed Barbara: the very plan she had devised for Harvey, re-enacted on his own precious whore twenty years later.

  The delicious irony being that Harvey was the only person who knew of her guilt – and the one person who could never accuse her.

  How she revelled in Harvey knowing it was her; and in his needing her to play the loyal wife, if he ever hoped to be acquitted.

  He needed her.

  Like he always had.

  He was nothing without her.

  And dressing the whore with the rubies? She liked to think of them as her calling card – so Harvey was never in any doubt who had attacked Elegant.

  And then Elegant lived – which felt like an added bonus. It was her performance as a lover spurned that had sent Harvey down.

  It was too late for him to say anything now. It would sound like the ravings of a bitter convict.

  Euphoric, Amelia walked into her suite.

  It was all hers.

  She headed straight to the bathroom where she kept her insurance, in case of an acquittal: the divorce petition, the keeper of Harvey’s guilt, from so many years before. Of course, as Barbara’s personal assistant, she had access to even her most private of papers.

  And the other rubies? They were nothing more than meaningless gifts from Harvey. She would have used them on him, just as she did on his whore.

  But as she stepped into the bathroom, she saw her vanity case had been moved.

  Her insurance was gone.

  CHAPTER 31

  NOW WAS NOT the time to panic, Amelia told herself.

  Remember: she had won.

  In less than an hour she would be safely on board Harvey’s private jet.

  Her private jet.

  She had to act fast. Someone in the hotel had discovered the divorce papers. In as calm a manner as possible, she needed to leave immediately.

  Don’t let it slip away. She was almost there.

  Suddenly racked with nerves, she took the elevator down through the hotel. A confident walk through the foyer was all that was required.

  No one could suspect her.

  Her body mustn’t betray her.

  Weakness was unforgivable.

  A confident walk, accompanied by an air of inaccessibility, was what she needed to convey.

  My husband has been convicted – don’t try to console me.

  As the elevator doors opened, Amelia stepped into the vast marble foyer
.

  And stopped.

  Astonished.

  A double take.

  Michael, her husband from another life, speaking to the Head of Security. Where had he come from? Why now? She hadn’t seen him in over twenty years.

  Momentarily she was dazed.

  She told herself to regain her composure, but that one second of faltering was all it took.

  Roscoe had seen her.

  Roscoe had seen her.

  He watched Amelia waver, before she hurriedly exited the elevator.

  She was fleeing through the back of the hotel.

  ‘I need you to find Stanley,’ he instructed Madison. ‘Tell him I’m following Amelia out through the back. Get him to call the police and then to head out the front gate. I’ll follow her round, and we can cut her off.’

  Roscoe quickly followed Amelia as she made her way through the restaurant and into the kitchen.

  He had to stop her.

  She was as guilty as Harvey, Roscoe was certain of that.

  And the rubies told him she was guilty of a whole lot more.

  He knew a moment’s hesitation running through the kitchen and he would have her.

  She knew a moment’s hesitation running through the kitchen and he would have her.

  Skipping from side to side, avoiding the waiters, Amelia looked over her shoulder to see Roscoe quickening his pace.

  ‘Get out of my way,’ she screamed, as she relished the chase. Sprinting now, this was her race to the line.

  Win this and she was free.

  She bolted out of the rear of the hotel, the door flying open as she charged through into the parking lot.

  Her car was in sight.

  As she clicked the keys on her tiny sports car, the lights flashed.

  The second she was in, the engine fired.

  He was exiting the back of the hotel, but she was away.

  He couldn’t catch her now.

  As he ran towards her, she raced the car forward.

  She was driving directly at him.

  CHAPTER 32

  SHE WAS DRIVING directly at him.

  He could see her manic eyes as she clutched the steering wheel, unyielding in her attack.