Eighteen
As Carol wasreturning to the building after her conversation with Jim, Hannah Newsom and her husband, Shep, arrived at Sheldon Oaks in a newly purchased Range Rover. They were there to pick up some of Hannah’s father’s things. They parked out front, not far from the exact same spot, Carol noted, where Hannah’s father’s skull had cracked open a couple of days earlier.
Desmond had introduced them to her a week or two ago in the bistro. Hannah and Shep were about forty, and Carol had taken an instant dislike to the pair of them. She’d politely turned down their offer of joining them and instead sat at a table nearby, pretended to read, and listened to every word of their conversation.
Hannah did that thing where she never laughed, but instead simply stated that something was funny. So her dad would make a joke and she would say, “That’s hilarious” or “That’s just so, like, funny to me?” with a completely straight face.
Hannah and Shep had private school accents—only a man born into the elite could get away with having a dog’s name,thought Carol. Despite their plummy voices, the pair talked in a kind of California business-speak. When Desmond had realized that the table didn’t have any packets of sugar, Shep, instead of saying, “I’ll get some,” had said, “Let me see if I can action that for you.” When Desmond had pointed out that the flowers were starting to bloom, instead of saying, “Oh, that’s nice,” Hannah had said, “That’s so empowering.”
The topic of conversation had been the cost of living. The kids’ school fees had just gone up and Shep was having cash flow problems. By Q3 next year (whatever that was) he was expecting to be “generating maximum ROI” but right now his business was in a “transitional phase.” The business, as far as Carol could tell, was a podcast that hadn’t yet released an episode, in which Shep gave business advice.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand everything, Des, but I’m going to be passing on all of my own acquired expertise, invaluable advice, you know—dress for the job you want, protein not carbs, time management, you know. This is the sort of stuff you’re not going to be able to get on any other business podcast. Peter Wires, he’s one of the big business gurus out there right now, he suggests that, if you want to get anywhere as a CEO, you need to be waking up at four a.m. My USP—which stands for ultra selling potential, by the way, Des—is that I’m going to suggest that people get up at three. Peter Wires is not going to know what’s hit him.”
“It’s really great stuff, Dad,” Hannah had said. “Whole thing’s a no-brainer.”
“It’s the kind of thing people are going to be willing to pay for. Itwillmake money, I’ve got no doubt about that, but in order toreach an audience I need a marketing budget, and you know this, Des—cash is king, you know.”
“And I suppose you want mine.”
“You’re so funny, Dad,” Hannah had said.
Carol had no idea if Desmond had given them the money they had asked for, but it was fair to say he hadn’t looked especially keen in the bistro that day.
Carol watched the couple chatting by their car. Today wasn’t a day for eavesdropping. If she was going to truly investigate, she’d have to ask some questions. Carol gingerly approached them, giving the friendliest little wave she could muster.
“Hello, I’m Carol. We met the other day. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“That’s so sweet of you to say.” Hannah had her arms outstretched. “Are you a hugger? Because I’m a hugger.”
“I’m not a hugger, but thank you,” said Carol.
“Baby, you can’t leave the dogs in the car.”
“Well, we can’t bring them in there, can we?” said Shep.
“You stay out here with them. I’ll go in.”
Hannah gave her two cockapoos slobbery kisses and put on, nonsensically, Carol thought, a pair of big dark Prada sunglasses just as she was heading indoors. Since Carol had last seen her, Hannah looked like she’d gained a kilo or two and a couple of million pounds.
Carol and Shep were left alone together with the two dogs. She looked down at her feet. Shep held the leads. An odd moment, less than a second, but she felt it.Am I really staying here with him?Having shared a cell, for six years, with an awful woman called Brenda, Carol was not the type to spend any longer with a personshe didn’t like than was entirely necessary. But her future depended on finding out the truth. She had to extract as much information as she could.
“Nice car. Is it new?”
“Yes. Purchased this week.” Shep used the most irritating pronunciation available, putting the emphasis in “purchased” on “chased.”
“Podcast doing well, then?”
Shep looked blank for a second.Podcast?“Oh, yes, the, uh, the podcast. Yes, it’s going terrifically, thank you.”
“I’m afraid I’m a little behind on all the podcasts. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard one. I keep reading about it. They have a Podcast of the Week in the paper but they never explain where we’re supposed to get it from. It’s a computer thing, isn’t it?”
Carol knew exactly what a podcast was. She was addicted to the true crime ones and was a little insulted no one had yet made one about her. She decided that, with Shep, the best way of prying without arousing suspicion was to play the role of “doddery old lady.”
“I’m not as bad with computers as some of the folk here. Margaret—I don’t know if you know her? She prints out her emails just to read them. Now, that’s silly, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. Not necessarily. Mark Zuckerberg has his emails read to him every morning while he’s in his flotation tank.”
“Is that right? He a friend of yours, is he?”
