by Anna Jacobs
When Ross excused himself and went home, she stayed on, chatting to the couple who would be moving here soon. She managed to slip into the conversation that Ross had been ill and was now convalescent, in case they thought he was stand-offish, and found that Cindy had already told them about that and his aunt dying recently.
‘Poor man!’ the pregnant woman whispered.
Lara blinked at that. She didn’t think of Ross as ‘poor’. He was not only attractive but nice with it. She could feel her cheeks getting warm at that thought and hoped no one had noticed.
The party started to wind down around seven and Cindy suggested going up to the hotel for a meal. No one seemed upset that Lara didn’t want to come with them.
‘Another time, perhaps,’ she said. ‘I went out for lunch today and I’m not really hungry. Besides, I have to watch what I eat or I put on weight.’ That would serve as an excuse to cover her not spending a lot of money on food if she did go out with her neighbours another time.
Tate made his excuses at the same time and his mother gave him a big farewell hug, which he returned with enthusiasm.
Cindy watched him go, smiling proudly. She saw Lara watching her. ‘He’s such a good son, my Tate is, and I really like his wife. She couldn’t come today because they have two small children and another on the way.’
Euan rang the hotel to book a table while Cindy bustled round, making sure the food was covered or put in the fridge.
Lara helped her with that, then went home and watched them walk past her kitchen window. The sight of Tate hugging his mother had made her feel a little sad. She couldn’t remember Joel ever hugging her like that. Then she told herself not to be silly. Darcie often hugged her.
And she wasn’t on bad terms with Joel, just … not close.
She checked but couldn’t see any lights shining from next door. Ross must have gone straight to bed. It must be hard to get exhausted so easily. But he definitely looked better than he had a few days ago.
Once Cindy and the others were out of sight, Lara switched on the lights in her own house. No need to get anything to eat. She’d had an excellent lunch and Cindy had provided a generous supply of nibblies.
She smiled ruefully. She’d gone back to the super-frugal habits she’d developed as an impoverished student. Well, that’s what you did when you had to make your money go a long way, wasn’t it? Cut down on everything but the bare essentials.
All in all, things were going as well as could be expected, but oh, she couldn’t help wishing that something bad would happen to John Crichton. She didn’t know what, didn’t want to him to be killed or anything, but she hoped something really bad would hurt him as he’d hurt others.
Donald had said there were several other people who’d been robbed of their savings. How could Crichton sleep at night?
Chapter Sixteen
At the moment John Crichton was definitely not a happy man. He was still feeling a little shaky after that heart incident and Sandra had decided they should move somewhere quiet to give him time to recover.
‘No. I’d rather find a place to settle and get the travelling over with. I’ll be happier in a proper house, one that’s really our own, and I’m sure my health will improve there. Even a couple of days in this flat has made me feel caged.’
‘Well, it’s going to take time to organise the travel, John, unless you want to be picked up by the police at the airport. My contact suggests we move to a village in Austria where there’s a quiet hotel. We can rent a suite for a couple of weeks.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘I know you’re fretting, darling, but we really do have to stay off the radar.’
He couldn’t argue with that, unfortunately.
She arranged the move with her usual efficiency but he hated the village on sight; it was so tourist-oriented and cutesy. It wasn’t nearly as quiet as they’d hoped, full of international visitors. And the suite might have two bedrooms and a sitting room but none of them was spacious. He didn’t conceal his annoyance. ‘Your contact has let us down, Sandra. We should arrange things ourselves from now on.’
‘Do you know how to get false passports?’
‘Well, no.’
‘And I don’t either.’
A group of very loud English people walked past just then and he moved quickly back from the balcony, scowling at her. ‘I suppose I’m going to have to stay in hiding again and not even poke my nose out of the door.’
She came to put her arms round him but he moved away.
‘I’m sorry, John. Very sorry. He said it would be quiet here but I agree with you. There are enough holidaymakers around that we can’t take the risk of you being seen and recognised.’
His heart started to play up and he didn’t want to take another calm-down pill, which would make him dopey, so he tried not to let it show. ‘I’ll go and have a rest, then. I’m feeling exhausted.’
‘Your heart’s all right?’
‘I’m just tired, dammit.’
He went into his bedroom and lay down, pretending to be asleep. When his door opened and she peeped in, he didn’t stir, didn’t want to talk to her till he’d got a few things straight in his own mind and given his weary body a rest.
She closed the door and he decided to see if he could have a nap. Then, as he began to relax, he heard her speaking quietly to someone, presumably on the phone since no one had come to the door of their suite. That brought him wide awake and alert again. Who could she be phoning so soon after their arrival?
He slipped out of bed and stood near the door, but even from there he couldn’t hear what she was saying because she was in her bedroom. The call went on for a long time, confidential murmuring sounds which made him wonder.
After it ended he lay down on the bed again, moving as quietly as he could and closing his eyes.
But he couldn’t sleep and Sandra didn’t come in to check on him again till much later.
When she did come, he yawned and pretended he’d had a nap. ‘Did I hear you making a phone call earlier?’
She looked at him sharply, not her usual caring expression, then her face changed as if she’d donned a mask and she gave him one of her loving smiles. ‘I was only calling room service to ask if they did dry cleaning. I need a couple of outfits freshening up.’
He didn’t quibble about that, but it raised his suspicions a notch higher. The phone call had lasted far longer than would have been needed to ask a simple question like that.
So who had she been calling?
Worst of all, why was she lying to him?
The following morning, after they’d had breakfast in their room, Sandra said casually, ‘I think it’d be easier if you gave me access to the money now, John. We can open a new account, a Swiss bank account, perhaps. My contact can help us with that and—’
‘I don’t think so, dear. I don’t know this contact of yours, so I’d rather keep the money in my own hands for the time being. Anyway, I can deal with the money transfers myself. It’s easy enough to do things online these days.’
She opened her mouth as if to protest, then snapped it shut again. ‘Whatever. I’ll go out for a stroll, then, if you don’t mind.’
He felt worried about where she was going. Was she going to meet someone? After a moment’s hesitation, he went out on to the balcony and stood watching her as she left the hotel.
She glanced back up at the rows of balconies, but he was standing behind a fat green artificial shrub that hid the barrier between one balcony and the next. He was pretty sure she hadn’t seen him because she carried on walking. He was just about to go back inside when he saw her stop dead as a man hurried towards her.
John gasped in outrage as the man swept her into his arms and plonked a kiss on each cheek in turn. He looked more like an old friend than a helpful contact. A very good friend, too.
Pushing him away, she glanced again at the balconies before making her way rapidly out of the courtyard on to the street. As the man followed, she made a gesture with one han
d that seemed to be a signal not to touch her.
She hadn’t looked happy about the encounter, but her anxiety seemed to have all been about whether John had seen them.
Well, he didn’t feel happy now himself. Her contact was too good-looking and was around her own age. The sight of the fellow looking full of energy had made him feel old and decrepit.
Was he credulous as well? Had he been taken in by a pair of con artists? No, surely he couldn’t have been mistaken in Sandra? No, no! They’d been so happy together.
Was he getting paranoid? Perhaps that was because of all the time he was spending shut in damned hotel rooms. Or was it because of something else? Had he now seen what was really going on?
He closed the door to the balcony and stood with his back to it, scowling at the small sitting room.
When they got to Brazil, he was going to buy a spacious house with a large garden you could walk round. He went into his bedroom and took out his mobile phone. He made a few adjustments to access the secret program and checked to see who had called or texted him.
His security guy had left a message. He read it carefully and grimaced, before sending a message asking for one or two other things to be checked.
He was much better with technology and modern devices than Sandra realised. Why had he kept that from her and pretended to need her help? He’d done it even before today’s revelations.
Because he always liked to have something in reserve, that’s why. Always. He’d learnt to be careful as a young man, learnt it the hard way, as you do. There was no one in the whole world whom he trusted absolutely now that his first wife was dead, though he’d come close to it with Sandra, more fool he.
Once he’d finished his calls, he reset the phone. That program would remain utterly silent, not even vibrating, let alone beeping, when a message arrived. The whole world seemed full of beeping machines these days.
As he sat down, weariness swept through him and he fought a ridiculous urge to weep. He’d just contacted a rather special friend who had access to his lawyer. He’d asked to revert to his previous will, the one he’d drawn up before Sandra. He had, of course, made provision for that before he left. But now he’d added a new instruction for his friend, in case he died under suspicious circumstances.
He had to look on the bright side. He was rich beyond his wildest dreams and was going to spend the rest of his life in utter luxury. Sandra couldn’t get to his money and if she proved untrustworthy, he could buy any help he needed elsewhere and pay her off, monthly payments that would stop if he died of anything other than natural causes.
It was at that stage in his cogitations he admitted to himself that he no longer trusted her and never would again.
That man she’d met had smiled at her as if he knew her in a personal way and was very fond of her. John had always been good at reading people’s body language and his distance vision was still pretty good.
He did weep then. Briefly. Silently. Which showed what a sad case he was. Old age turned you into a weakling.
He’d been stupid as well as greedy, couldn’t go back to the UK now. He was in too deep: a criminal. He didn’t want to spend his final days in prison, so he had to find somewhere else to go and a way to make the best of the situation.
For that he still needed Sandra’s help, unfortunately.
But he’d keep an eye on her at every step from now on. Oh yes.
Chapter Seventeen
Ross was woken on the Monday morning by a phone call from his tenant. He crossed the fingers of his free hand as he answered, hoping nothing had gone wrong with the house. He was counting on that money to build up his maintenance reserves for the old place.
‘Hi, Tom. How’s it going?’
‘The filming is going really well. This house of yours is very photogenic. I’d just like to check with you that it’s OK if we stay here for longer than we’d originally planned, say four extra weeks for sure and perhaps more?’
‘Can you tell that’ll be necessary at this early stage in the filming?’
Tom chuckled. ‘This time I can. The powerful ones – may their names long be praised! – have just sold the rights to the first series internationally, so they’ve decided they want to make the second series two episodes longer and we are, of course, happy to oblige. We don’t mind earning more money.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘I’m pretty stoked about it, I must admit. So, will it be all right for us to stay in your house for longer?’
‘Fine by me. I have this place to live in and I don’t mind earning extra money, either.’
‘We’re both happy, then. Oh, by the way, while I’ve got you on the line, did you know that someone was keeping watch on this house for the first day or two after you left? And they followed our van a few times, too.’
‘One of your rivals?’
‘Don’t think so. If they’d wanted to find out more about what we’re filming, they’d be keeping an eye on what we’re doing at the house, not following our runabout into town. And why would they be spying on us, anyway? I’ve got the contract and I hold the rights to the series idea.’
‘Oh. Did you get a glimpse of the person?’
‘One of the camera crew did. There were two people, actually. A guy of about thirty or forty was driving the car and there was a woman in the back seat. He thought she’d be around the same age, though it can be harder to tell with women. There’s nothing wrong with Hal’s distance eyesight, believe me. If he sees a bird in the sky, he can tell you the shape of its wings, while the rest of us can see only a distant dot. And he’s even quicker to spot a beautiful woman.’
Ross’s heart sank at the word ‘beautiful’. It had to be Nonie Jayne. She was the only beautiful woman he had ever known. But why would she have been watching his house? ‘When exactly was this?’
‘The day after we moved in and a couple of days after that. It hasn’t happened again, so I didn’t bother to phone you about it. Only, since I was speaking to you today, I thought I might just mention it.’
‘I’m very glad you did. It was probably my ex.’
‘One of those, eh?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A stalker. Can’t bear to let you go.’
‘I sincerely hope not. I don’t think she cares about anything except money, so she’s probably checking whether the house is occupied. She’s already tried to get her hands on some of my more valuable items, claiming I’d given them to her. As if I’d give away family heirlooms! She’s made it plain that she’d expected far more than she got in the settlement. Um, would your guy recognise her again if I emailed you a photo?’
Tom chuckled. ‘Do tigers wear stripy pyjamas? He hasn’t forgotten her, told me a couple of times that she was as beautiful as it gets. But he also reckoned she was a predator, something about the eyes. I told you, that guy is an expert on women.’
Beautiful predator: that was as good a description of Nonie Jayne as any. ‘Well, I’ll email you the photo and you can show it to him, just to make sure I’m right. And can you please keep the security tight?’
‘We have valuable equipment here so believe me, we’re über-careful about security. I’ll let you know if it’s the same woman.’
‘Thanks. Good luck with the filming.’
‘Yeah. And thanks for being flexible. Bye.’
Ross sighed as he put the phone down. What the hell was his damned ex up to now? He looked round the room. There were a lot of valuable things here as well, if you added them up. Maybe he should put in a better security system. Would she remember where his aunt had lived after only one visit? Who knew.
He found a photo of Nonie Jayne and emailed it to Tom. She’d be easy to recognise. There were disadvantages as well as advantages to having such striking good looks.
As for security, he’d discuss it with Lara, who was a smart woman. She’d mentioned getting some extra bolts fitted to all her outer doors after she’d seen a figure wandering round near their
houses. He should have done something about that more quickly but he’d thought she was worrying unnecessarily. After all, this was a very quiet place to live.
Now he was going to pay better attention to his surroundings, both inside and out.
Why was he so sure Nonie Jayne hadn’t let go of him yet? Well, he wouldn’t stake his life on it, but he thought it distinctly possible that she might be plotting something. She wasn’t the smartest person on the planet but she was one of the stubbornest when she wanted something and could be very cunning. And she’d been furious about the divorce settlement.
He looked round. This place would be very easy to break into as it was now. You could approach it across the fields or golf course and leave the same way if you weren’t carrying anything too heavy.
And at such an early stage of development there weren’t many neighbours to see or hear what was going on.
He glanced at the kitchen clock. Lara would be round in a few minutes ready to start work.
As he put the kettle on, he promised himself they weren’t going to do anything else about selling his aunt’s collection of ornaments until they’d made their houses more secure.
Lara came next door exactly on time, as usual, looking well rested and ready to start work – which was how Ross had felt until the phone call.
She took one look at him and asked, ‘What’s wrong?’ She gestured to the table. ‘Sit down and tell me.’
When he’d finished his tale she frowned and didn’t speak for a moment or two. ‘How can you be so sure this is your ex doing this?’
‘I’m not a hundred per cent sure, but I do think it’s possible. She has no morals, no depth, for lack of a better word, only a vast greed for money and possessions.’
‘You have a very poor opinion of her morals.’
‘Yes. And of my own judgement in marrying her. I was so happy with Diana, it never occurred to me that Nonie Jayne was putting on an act about loving me. We rushed into marriage but she didn’t manage to keep the loving act up for long after we started living together.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘She’s very grumpy in the early mornings. Never met anyone as bad. And she’ll do anything to get hold of money – well, anything except work for it like the rest of us have to.’