‘Jobe’s reputation can handle it.’ Khalid’s words were calm and measured as he poured oil on troubled waters. ‘And so can you. Of course, anything that is recent may prove hard on his current partner.’ Khalid checked his facts. ‘He got back with Chantelle before he died?’
‘Not really.’ Ethan held out his hand in a wavering motion. ‘But they were together on and off for quite a few years.’
‘Ethan,’ Khalid calmly responded. ‘Everyone has a shadow side. And that Jobe kept mistresses, and was married briefly, is hardly going to come as too much of a surprise, surely? Jobe led a colourful life and we all know how much he loved women.’
‘Women, yes,’ Ethan sighed, and Khalid could see his friend’s discomfort and knew he was about to hear the real reason he’d been asked to come by in advance of the funeral. ‘For the last four years my father has been sending a considerable monthly sum to an Aubrey Johnson...’
Now Khalid frowned, for this indeed came as a surprise. ‘Jobe was having an affair with a man?’
And on this dark sombre night Ethan actually laughed. ‘No, Khalid. Jobe wasn’t gay.’
‘But Aubrey is a man’s name.’
‘Not here it isn’t, it’s a unisex name. Believe me, Aubrey Johnson is definitely not a man.’
Ethan handed him some photographs.
No, Aubrey was certainly not a man.
She was barely a woman.
Aubrey Johnson had a curtain of blonde hair and china-blue eyes, but her pretty, delicate features were overwhelmed by elaborate stage make-up, with false eyelashes and painted red lips. Her petite, toned figure was shown to effect in a crimson, sequined leotard.
And nothing else.
‘How old is she?’ Khalid asked, his deep voice hoarse with disappointment.
‘Twenty-two,’ Ethan said. ‘She’ll be twenty-three next month.’
Jobe had been seventy-four.
‘She’s a dancer,’ Ethan said.
‘I’m assuming we’re not talking ballroom...’ Khalid started, and then answered his own question as he looked at the next image. From barely a woman to all woman, she wore a tiny, revealing dress and elaborate make-up and his jaw gritted at her provocative pose.
‘She’s also an aerial trapeze artist, apparently,’ Ethan said as Khalid flicked through the photos of Aubrey. ‘Though not a very good one,’
‘Why do you say she’s not any good?’ Khalid frowned.
‘Well, she’s not a big name or anything. Ms Johnson lives in a trailer park and does a routine over the gaming tables. And when she’s not performing it would seem she’s my father’s...’ Ethan couldn’t finish. ‘She was barely eighteen when the payments started.’
What the hell had Jobe been thinking?
Khalid could not stand to think that the man he had so deeply admired would be involved with someone so young. No, he could not accept that from Jobe. ‘Could there be another explanation?’
‘If there is, we’re doing our damnedest to find it.’ Ethan shook his head. ‘But no.’
‘Could she be his daughter?’ Khalid persisted, still not wanting to think the worst.
‘No.’ Again Ethan shook his head. ‘My father was a generous man and if he’d known he had a daughter she would not be living in a trailer park. If the money was for a benevolent reason he had trusts and charities set up for that but the payments to Ms Johnson came from the buried account—he didn’t want anyone to know.’
‘It’s better that you do,’ Khalid said. ‘Before it gets out.’
‘Look, if there’s scandal brewing, Abe and I will deal with it, we just don’t want anything to hit at the funeral tomorrow. We want our father to have a dignified send-off.’
‘Of course.’
‘We’ve made security aware of the names of these women and they are to be kept well back—’