‘Why are we even doing the lotto?’ asked Patrick, his face flushed, his voice booming. ‘What’s the bloody point?’
Lexi couldn’t understand why he was suddenly grumbling. He’d hit the bottle of red hard that he’d brought with him. Polished it off before she had even served the main.
‘Well, we do it because we’ve always done it, haven’t we? Since we first met. It’s our thing, our gang’s thing,’ she smiled coolly. ‘Do you remember, we used to say if we won, we’d invest in twenty-four-hour childcare?’ The absolute dream of all exhausted, shell-shocked new parents.
‘That would still seem like a good investment,’ commented Carla with a wry grin. ‘Perhaps not a nanny but a private detective, someone to follow Megan around – I never know where she is or what she’s up to nowadays.’
‘Or a clairvoyant,’ added Jennifer. ‘To read Ridley’s mind. You are so lucky, Lexi, to have a chatty girl. I don’t get more than a grunt out of my son – typical boy.’
‘Is that the best you can come up with? Spending the dosh stalking your kids?’ Jake challenged. ‘If I won the lotto, I’d have much more fun spending it.’
‘You’d buy a Lamborghini and a yacht, I suppose,’ said Fred, with a grin.
‘Absolutely,’ Jake beamed. ‘You?’
‘A bigger house. Several bigger houses, actually. One here, one in London.’
Jennifer joined in, ‘South of France.’
‘California,’ added Carla.
‘What about you, Patrick? Would you invest in property?’ Lexi couldn’t stop herself sounding challenging. Not considering all she knew. Patrick had a lot of property already, most of it wasn’t fit to keep an animal in. Lexi had found it difficult to sit at the same table as Patrick tonight, to feed him. Considering her suspicions. She now was fully aware that he was a slum landlord – her investigations with Toma had uncovered as much. She was waiting on one more piece of information to discover if he was the slum landlord. The one that murdered Reveka and Benke. She would know for certain next week. Everything would change next week.
‘Maybe,’ said Patrick, he yawned. He looked bored.
‘Or would you perhaps just make improvements on the places you already own?’ she asked hopefully, desperately. Part of her wanted to keep the show on the road. They had all been friends for so long. If they weren’t friends, what would they be?
‘Oh no, not that,’ he chuckled. His big belly, the result of too many indulgent work lunches, shook. ‘Don’t want to spoil the tenants.’ Lexi felt sick.
‘I think I’d send Ridley to a posh sixth form. Marlborough or Eton,’ chipped in Jennifer.
Jake excitedly took up the mantle. ‘I’d want swimming pools in all my properties. I’d only ever fly first class from then on in.’
‘I’d dress entirely in haute couture, even to do the housework,’ said Carla.
‘You don’t do the housework,’ muttered Patrick. ‘We have a cleaner.’
‘Wouldn’t any of you do anything good with it?’ All five pairs of eyes swivelled to Lexi who had asked the question.
‘Good?’ they chorused.
‘Give to charities? Sent up trusts or foundations?’
‘Oh, yes, yes, of course,’ they hurried to reassure her.
‘I’m just saying it would be great fun to spoil oneself, you know totally,’ commented Carla. Patrick looked irritated. As far as Lexi could tell, he did a good job of spoiling his wife as it was; the woman could be so greedy. Did she have any idea how others lived so she could wear Jimmy Choos, so her husband could get fat? Surely not. Lexi hoped not. If Carla knew about the state of the properties, that would be too much. That would be unbearable.
‘I’d buy a really decent watch for every day of the week,’ said Jake. ‘You know, a Patek Philippe for Monday, a Chopard for Tuesday, a Rolex for Wednesday—’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, man, grow up,’ Patrick snapped.
Startled, Lexi and Jake turned their heads towards him, the others all dropped their eyes to their plates. Lexi felt something in the air, a chill. ‘Will you cut the crap. All this talk about lotto wins is doing my head in. That’s not how you make money in this world. You need to graft.’
‘Patrick, playing the lotto is only a bit of fun,’ said Lexi, in what she hoped was a placating tone.
‘It’s crass,’ he muttered aggressively. Lexi felt the hairs on her body stand in revolt. Crass? Coming from him? She wanted to slap him. But she also wanted to preserve what they had around this table. Fifteen