‘You mean why was Peter playing with billionaires?’ said Julia tightly. ‘It’s a question I asked him many times, believe me.’
She took a tiny sip of tea which seemed to barely touch her lips. ‘Peter and Michael were good friends at Oxford. Michael Asner was a Fulbright scholar, would you believe? Furiously bright, but a horrid little man, if you ask me.’
‘So you knew him?’
‘I met him a handful of times in the early days of our marriage. I never really liked him; always so full of his own cleverness, as if he was doing us a favour letting us talk to him, even before he became super-successful.’
‘Had you seen him recently?’
She shook her head. ‘Peter and Michael drifted apart once Michael began to move in those powerful Wall Street circles. The last contact I was aware of was about fifteen years ago, when he left the firm of investment brokers he had been working for and set up his own wealth management business. He couldn’t be bothered with us in the years running up to that, but when he was fishing around for investments, suddenly we were good enough. Or at least our life savings were.’
Julia looked up. ‘You heard he died in prison, of course?’ she said. ‘I can’t say I was sorry. How could anyone do that to a friend? Peter was a quiet man. He kept everything bottled up inside him,’ she said, clutching her hand to her chest. ‘When the scheme collapsed and we lost the money, he seemed to be coping well, but then he had a heart attack on that little boat of his. We thought he was going to pull through, but he had another sudden cardiac arrest in hospital a few days later.’
Ruth glanced at her watch again. Fox would be here any minute, and she couldn’t imagine he would be pleased to see her again.
‘You said Sophie hadn’t been herself recently. How did her father’s death affect her?’
‘They were very close,’ Julia said quietly. ‘If I’m honest, I was rather envious of their relationship. It’s been tough for all of us, of course, but Sophie . . . We had to sell her flat in Chelsea, her boyfriend finished with her, and her other friends? Well, she was dropped like a stone. Do you know, only three of her friends came to the funeral? Three!’
‘People can be very judgemental,’ said Ruth.
‘People can be bastards, Miss Boden,’ said Julia, bitterly. ‘And you can quote me on that. We paid through the nose for Sophie’s education; she is a beautiful, refined young woman, and yet when it comes down to it, you realise what ultimately matters to people: money. They only care about money.’
She produced a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.
‘Sorry. This is all very difficult. I’ll have to sell the house, of course. We remortgaged to liquidate some cash, and now . . .’ She looked around at the devastation of the burglary. ‘I knew we should have kept paying for the alarm system,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘But Peter said it was an unnecessary expense. At least I took the Chanel on holiday with me,’ she added, clasping her handbag to her side protectively.
Ruth paused, wondering how to phrase her next question.
‘Sophie must have been very upset about losing the family home, too.’
Julia’s shrewd grey eyes locked on to Ruth’s.
‘Don’t start imagining motives where there are none, Miss Boden,’ she said, steel in her voice. ‘I read the papers, I know how the press can spin things: a young girl fallen on hard times tries to trap a rich man and it goes tragically wrong. That did not happen with my daughter, do you understand me?’
‘Honestly, Mrs Ellis,’ said Ruth quickly, ‘I’m really on your side. I just want to see justice done.’
‘Justice?’ she spat. ‘I don’t believe in justice any more. Not when Michael Asner’s wife is still sitting in some big house in upstate New York. Where’s the justice in that?’
Ruth looked up at the kitchen clock. Twelve on the dot – time was up.
‘I’d better be going,’ she said, stuffing her notebook into her handbag. ‘I’m sure Sophie will be in touch very soon. Perhaps the police will have more news.’
Julia went with her to the front door.
‘Do you have a photograph of Sophie I could take?’ she asked quickly.
Julia nodded. She went into the study and returned with a family snapshot.
‘You will help her, won’t you?’ she said. ‘Sophie’s a good girl and she’s already been through so much. I don’t know what’s happened with this man in the hotel, but she wouldn’t hurt a fly, you do believe that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Ruth truthfully. Just then, there was the sound of a car turning into the drive and her heart sank. Shit.
She walked down the drive as Fox was getting out of his saloon.
‘We must stop meeting like this,’ she said, lifting one eyebrow.
Fox didn’t smile. ‘Why are you here, Ruth?’