Diamond Fire

by Anne Mather

  Half an hour later she emerged from the bathroom wearing the towelling bathrobe she had found on the back of the door, and feeling a little better. With reckless abandon she had taken both a bath and a shower, using the latter to wash her hair and cleanse her body of the expensive gel that had created a storm of bubbles in the jacuzzi. It was only afterwards she had realised that she probably shouldn’t have used the bubble-bath in conjunction with the jets, but by then it was too late. Besides, she thought defiantly, Alessandro Conti could afford to have it repaired if she had caused some damage. Clearly, a shortage of material assets was not the reason Virginia had decided to leave home. If hers was just an example of a guest-room at the house Camilla could imagine what the master suite must be like.

  Padding, barefoot, across the velvet carpet, she switched on the television set that resided on a bureau opposite the bed, and then padded back to sit on the satin coverlet. She had at least half an hour to fill before she needed to start getting ready, and watching television would take her mind from the chaotic jumble of her thoughts. Time enough later to consider what she was going to do, she decided, settling herself back against the pillows. For the time being she was not going to worry. In spite of her claims to the contrary, Virginia had proved she was not a prisoner, and until Camilla heard differently she would have to assume she could take care of herself.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CAMILLA awoke to unfamiliar sounds—the call of doves from the nearby trees, the shrill cry of a sea-bird, the muted roar of the ocean. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was, or how she came to be here, and she came up on her elbows, blinking as she looked about her.

  And then recollection returned to her—or a selective part of it did anyway. She was in Hawaii; on the island of Oahu; and in Alessandro Conti’s house, Kumaru, to be precise. She had arrived there the previous afternoon, only to find Virginia wasn’t here; but she had been shown in to this room, to relax and refresh herself before supper.

  She frowned then. For that was as far as her recollection took her. She clearly remembered being shown into this room, and she also remembered taking a bath and washing her hair.

  She put up a wary hand to her hair, but apart from a faint slickness, which could have been caused by sweating as she slept, it felt quite dry. But—and it was at this point that a wave of embarrassment swept over her—she was naked beneath the sheet, which was all that covered her. And that simply wasn’t usual. She never slept in the nude. Indeed, she invariably wore old, baggy cotton T-shirts to sleep in, but for this trip she had bought herself two rather glamorous nightgowns from Janet Reger. She had not known if Virginia might still want to indulge in bedtime confidences, and, guessing the kind of nightwear she would favour, Camilla had invested in something she need not feel ashamed of. That was why she felt so uneasy now. She was sure that on this occasion particularly she would not have put herself to bed without her nightgown.

  Which meant…

  A flush stained her cheeks. The conclusion was obvious. She must have fallen asleep watching the television, and someone else—Mama Lu, probably—had decided not to disturb her. Instead, the bathrobe had been whisked away, she had been covered with the sheet, and her hair left to dry on the pillow.

  So what?

  Refusing to allow herself to continue down this avenue of thought, Camilla threw back the sheet and slid her legs over the side of the bed. Her nakedness disturbed her, but a swift rummage in one of the suitcases still residing at the foot of the bed produced the satin dressing-gown that matched one of the nightdresses. Wrapping the robe about her, she immediately felt more in control of her destiny, but the memories still rankled.

  God, she thought, pushing back the weight of her hair with a frustrated hand, as if the situation hadn’t been complicated enough, without her behaving like some first-time traveller. For heaven’s sake, it was bad enough that she had arrived here unexpected and unannounced, without falling asleep at a time when she was supposed to be having supper with Virginia’s husband!

  She sighed. Well, he didn’t have a particularly flattering opinion of her anyway, she consoled herself. It was obvious he had originally believed that Virginia had sent her here to intercede on her behalf, and when she had finally convinced him that this wasn’t so he had still regarded her with some suspicion. With some suspicion! Camilla shook her head disbelievingly. As if he had any reason to be suspicious of her! She was a solicitor, for God’s sake. She was paid to deal with other people’s transgressions, not to be accused of transgressions of her own.

  Still, he had seemed to accept her story—or at least an edited version of it—by the time the housekeeper was summoned to show her to this room. Indeed, he had been unexpectedly courteous once he had satisfied himself that she was not actually lying to him. She hadn’t been given the impression that he totally trusted her story, but he certainly hadn’t rejected it.

  But now she had undone all the good work she had achieved the night before. Alessandro Conti was hardly likely to remain convinced of her professed concern for Virginia’s whereabouts if she could drop off to sleep as if she hadn’t a care in the world. He might even see it as proof of her complicity, and her heart sank at the probable outcome. If he insisted that she left here now she might never find out what had happened to Virginia, and, for all her helpless loss of consciousness, she was worried.

  However, there was nothing she could do about it. Virginia’s husband would decide what course her stay in Oahu was going to take, and for the present she could only prepare herself for the worst.

  But the sun was shining, filtering in through the printed silk curtains that someone had drawn over her windows, and Camilla would not have been human if she hadn’t felt a sense of curiosity about her surroundings. Stepping down on to the lower level, she crossed the delicately patterned rug, and drew the drapes aside.

  She startled a brightly coloured bird that had been breakfasting from the tumbling branches of an azalea, whose rose and lilac-coloured blossoms spilled over the balcony; but Camilla scarcely noticed. Her widening eyes were drawn to the brilliant waters of the Pacific surging on to a stretch of almost pure white sand just a short distance away. From a creamy whiteness, caused by the reflection of the sand through the water, to the deepest blue on the horizon, the water shaded from lime to jade, from robin’s-egg pale to sapphire, an ever-changing carpet of shifting colours.

  Camilla caught her breath. She had never seen such a delightful sight before, and for a moment she forgot everything in the sheer pleasure of just looking. It was so unbelievably beautiful, and the isolated prison of Virginia’s letter seemed far from this enchanted place.

  Fumbling with the catch that secured the sliding glass doors, she eventually discovered how to open them, and stepped out on to the iron-railed terrace. The air was surprisingly cool, but only cool by Hawaiian standards, she reflected dreamily. Even at this hour of the morning, the inherent warmth, which would invade the atmosphere later in the day, was already a sensuous promise against her legs. The playful breeze had parted the skirt of her robe, and was exposing her long slim legs to the strengthening rays of the sun, and because she was alone with the morning she let it do its worst.

  What time was it? she wondered. She had removed her watch before her bath, and now, reluctantly, she turned back into the room and climbed the steps again to the sleeping-deck. She found her watch on the table beside the bed, and discovered it was only half-past six. Evidently, the time-change had worked to her advantage this morning. The household wasn’t yet stirring, but she was wide awake.

  She discovered, when she went to take her shower, that fresh towels had been placed on the rack in the bathroom, and new phials of bath gel and shampoo had replaced the ones she had used the night before. She shook her head in wonder. It was like staying at the very swishest hotel, she thought, remembering an article she had read about a chain of hotels in New York that actually employed somebody to anticipate the guests’ every whim. She had the
feeling that if she had arrived without her suitcases that would have been taken care of as well! Alessandro Conti probably left nothing to chance.

  But then, she reflected as she dropped her robe on to the laundry basket and stepped into the shower, she was obviously not the usual sort of guest he entertained. She could imagine politicians coming here with their wives; congressmen, or senators, perhaps; people well known in the arts and education; scientists; maybe even a judge. And also, perhaps, some people who operated outside the law. Alessandro Conti was clearly of Italian descent. He might even belong to the Mafia.

  Deciding she was allowing her imagination to run away with her, Camilla abandoned this train of thought and concentrated on what she was doing. The shower was strong and invigorating, pummelling her scalp and the tender skin of her breasts, flowing in rivulets down the lower contours of her body. Watching the water disappear through the grill at the bottom of the shower, she was reminded of the scene in the film Psycho, when the erstwhile heroine of the piece was invaded by the deranged owner of the motel. She remembered the shadow through the curtain, the knife blade raised and then falling with such horrible intent—

  ‘Aloha! Miss Richards!’

  Camilla nearly jumped out of her skin. The shadowy bulk beyond the shower screen was much too close to what she had been thinking, and she dropped the shampoo, and had to scrabble about in the bottom of the shower to find it again.

  Then, realising it was only the housekeeper, she straightened. ‘Y…yes?’ she called, annoyed to find her voice betraying the shock she had had. ‘Wh…what do you want?’

  ‘I have left a tray of coffee in the bedroom,’ Mama Lu replied imperviously, and Camilla could see her reflection through the glass, moving round the bathroom, picking up her robe and folding it over her arm. ‘I guessed you might wake early this morning. If you would like me to bring breakfast to your room I will, or you might wish to take it outdoors.’

  Camilla swallowed her resentment that the housekeeper should come into her room without knocking, and cleared her throat. ‘Um…I think I’d like to have breakfast outdoors,’ she said, wondering if Alessandro Conti would like to join her. ‘Er—thank you for the coffee. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  The housekeeper drifted out again, and, expelling a trembling breath, Camilla completed her toilet. She had washed her hair again, deciding it would be easier to style damp than dry, and after drying her body she put on the fresh towelling bathrobe Mama Lu had left in place of her own.

  It would have been easy to feel some impatience with the housekeeper for taking her own robe away, but she supposed Mama Lu was only being helpful. Camilla simply wasn’t used to having servants lay out her clothes for her, or provide her with her own pot of coffee that tasted just as delicious as it smelt.

  Abandoning any hope of remaining businesslike in these surroundings, Camilla dressed in cream cotton Bermuda shorts and a collarless silk blouse. The elbow-sleeved blouse was patterned in shades of cream and green, and was cool without looking too holidayish. The last thing she wanted Alessandro Conti to think was that she was regarding the present situation as a holiday. She might have told him she had come here with that intent, but obviously now that was not the way it was. On the contrary, in the clear light of day Virginia’s disappearance was no less disturbing. Camilla couldn’t understand why she should have done it. She must have expected her friend to respond to her summons, and, as soon as she had received Virginia’s letter, Camilla had made arrangements to do so. She hadn’t sent a cable, for obvious reasons. But there had been no reason for Virginia to lose hope so quickly.

  Perhaps she hadn’t run away. As Camilla plaited her hair down the back of her head and finished with a short braid that nudged her shoulder she wondered if it was at all possible that Virginia had simply decided to take a trip without telling anyone. It was irresponsible, of course, but when they had been at school together Virginia had been irresponsible sometimes. Looking back, Camilla had to admit that her friend hadn’t always done what was expected of her. So why shouldn’t she have arranged this trip and taken her daughter with her?

  Deciding it was at least something she could suggest to Alessandro Conti, Camilla finished her coffee, took one last, rather resigned glance at her reflection, and left the bedroom.

  The hall outside was bathed in sunshine. Long windows that overlooked the lawns at the side of the house had not yet had their blinds slatted, and the floor was striped in bands of gold. As in the lower half of her room, the floor itself was made of wood, polished around the heavy fringed rugs that were laid at intervals along the corridor. Camilla looked to left and right, and then started in what she hoped was the direction of the wide arching vestibule she had entered the night before.

  The house was huge, but she had known that before she had started out. Arriving yesterday afternoon, she had had some intimation of its size from the windows of the taxi that had brought her from the airport, but inside it was even more daunting. Halls and passages led off in all directions, and, while initially she had the side of the house to guide her, when she turned a corner even that reference was denied her.

  The corridor ahead of her now ended in a pair of double-panelled doors, and, although she gazed at them with some expectation, Camilla was almost sure she hadn’t come this way the night before. She was lost, and she decided to make her way back to her own room and start again.

  But as she turned away she heard the sound of a door behind her opening, and when she cast a hopeful glance over her shoulder she saw Alessandro Conti striding towards her. Immediately her heart sank. For heaven’s sake, she thought irritably, he would probably think she was searching the house, and she briefly closed her eyes against a fate that decreed she should meet this man again in difficult circumstances.

  However, there was nothing she could do about it now. He had seen her, and, watching him come towards her, Camilla was again struck by his disturbing personality. Wearing a pearl-grey suit of some fine material that moulded the powerful lines of his strong body like a glove, he looked every bit as compelling as he had done the night before. And, although she didn’t want to notice how the close-fitting trousers accentuated his physicality, she couldn’t help it.

  ‘Lost?’ he enquired, after wishing her good morning, and Camilla mentally smoothed her ruffled senses and glanced up at him.

  ‘I…Yes,’ she answered, obliged to fall into step beside him. ‘I’m afraid I must have come the wrong way.’

  ‘It’s easily done,’ he assured her, his tone not half as brusque as she had expected. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Very well.’ Camilla swallowed. ‘Which reminds me, I must apologise about last night. Falling asleep like that. I expect Mama Lu told you.’

  ‘Mama Lu?’ Alessandro arched an enquiring eyebrow. ‘Oh—yes.’ He inclined his head. ‘You were obviously tired.’

  ‘Even so—’ Camilla caught her lower lip between her teeth ‘—it was unfortunate. I…don’t suppose there’s any…news?’

  ‘About Virginia?’ A perceptible hardness entered his tone as he spoke his wife’s name. ‘No. No, I’m afraid not.’

  Camilla shook her head. ‘I don’t understand it.’

  ‘No.’ The look he gave her was enigmatic. ‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’

  They had reached the main hall, and Camilla looked about her in some surprise. They seemed to have bypassed her room altogether, and were now in the enormous vestibule with its exquisite crystal chandelier suspended above a mosaic-tiled floor. The marble tiles were in direct contrast to the maplewood floor of the corridor and the velvet carpet that had cushioned her feet in the parlour, she thought. Yet they all blended together beautifully, creating an attractive asymmetry of styles. That was one thing Camilla had noticed the night before: the elegant mingling of opposites.

  ‘Have you had breakfast?’ her host asked briefly as he led the way through an arched doorway at the back of the hall, and d
own a half-spiral staircase. The staircase could only lead to the lower level of the house, Camilla realised, following him, and as she did so another figure appeared below them.

  ‘Padrone!’ he exclaimed politely, spreading his arms in obvious welcome. ‘Everything is ready, signore.’

  ‘Thanks, Lee.’ Alessandro descended the final few steps of the staircase, and turned to wait for Camilla to join him. ‘This is Wong Lee,’ he added, as she stepped down into what appeared to be a kind of indoor garden. ‘He and Mama Lu take care of us—me!’ The amendment was almost savage. ‘Lee, this is Miss Richards. She’s from England.’

  No mention of the fact that she was his wife’s friend, Camilla noticed ruefully as she smiled at the little Chinese man. Well, perhaps that wasn’t so surprising in the circumstances, she thought. Virginia’s friends were rather thin on the ground around here.

  ‘So pleased to meet you, Miss Richards,’ Wong Lee greeted her, bowing from the waist. ‘Welcome to Hawaii.’

  Camilla smiled in return, and then looked around the room. The scent of perfume from the various exotic shrubs that grew in planters around the walls was overpowering, and Camilla used her interest in the plants to relieve her nervousness.

  ‘I’ve never seen so many different varieties of flowers!’ she exclaimed, addressing her remarks equally to Alessandro and his servant, and Wong Lee’s expression grew animated.

  ‘The signore’s mother is a keen gardener,’ he said, spreading his arms as he had done before. ‘She loves creating beauty.’ He shook his head. ‘But I hear there are many beautiful gardens in England. Do you have a garden, Miss Richards?’