by Anne Mather
Virginia…
Camilla stepped forward, her hands gripping the rail of the balcony as a sudden thought struck her. Virginia had phoned her! She had rung the house and asked to speak to her, when she had left home, not knowing if Camilla would come to the island. But she had rung the house, and stated that Camilla had been there for three days! How had she known? Who had told her?
Camilla blinked, the lingering lethargy of her dream dispersing as her brain came into action. Of course. She should have thought of that at once. It was only Alex’s storming into the dining-room, disrupting her thought processes and scattering her wits, that had prevented her from seeing the obvious. Virginia had rung the house. It hadn’t just been a lucky chance. She had actually had knowledge of Camilla’s arrival.
Which meant only one thing: someone else knew where she was. Someone else, who knew Alex’s movements, and her own, and who was reporting back to Virginia. But who?
Camilla tried to think. It couldn’t be Mama Lu, or Wong Lee. She knew Alex could trust them with his life. So it was probably another of the servants. Or one of the security men.
She expelled her breath on a heavy sigh. If only she had thought of this before. It was something she could have told Alex without betraying her friend’s confidence, and perhaps it would have persuaded him that she was not hiding anything. She had no more idea where Virginia was now than she had had before, and, if Alex had listened to the recording of their conversation, he must know that, too.
Thinking of the recording, Camilla shivered. She couldn’t help remembering the callous way Virginia had spoken of her husband, and the shocking indifference she had shown towards his well-being. Not to mention the mocking aspersions she had made about his sexuality, she recalled guiltily. God, was that why she had had that dream about him? Because everything in her being cried out that Virginia was wrong?
Shaking her head, she turned back into her room and looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was after six, she saw with some relief, and if she wanted to catch Alex before he left for his office she might as well get ready. In spite of the fact that he had been so unpleasant yesterday, she was prepared to make amends, and as he had had supper at his parents’ house the night before this would be her first opportunity to speak to him since that embarrassing débâcle.
She took more care with her appearance than usual, coiling her hair into a knot, instead of plaiting it as she had done before, and putting on a cotton dress instead of shorts. She told herself it was because she had more time than usual, and that it was just a way to fill in an hour or more until it was time for breakfast. But her conscience was less gullible than she had anticipated, and the annoying voice inside her insisted she was just riding for a fall.
However, when she emerged on to the terrace later, it was to find the breakfast table laid for one. Frowning, because it was only half-past seven and Mama Lu hadn’t even brought her her morning tray of coffee yet, she wondered if the setting was for her after all. Perhaps Alex expected to get his breakfast and be gone before she got up. That would explain the single glass and the single cup and saucer.
Mama Lu’s appearance disabused her of that thought. When Camilla asked why the table had only been set for one, the housekeeper explained that Mr Conti hadn’t come home the night before.
‘Oh—not because he’s had any more news of Mrs Virginia,’ she added when Camilla’s eyes widened anxiously. ‘He just spent the night with his mom and poppa. He said to tell you he’d be back later today.’
‘Thanks.’
Camilla’s response was unguardedly cynical, and Mama Lu propped her hands on her ample hips and regarded the younger woman consideringly. ‘You got a problem with that?’
‘What? Oh, no.’ Camilla was in no state to cross swords with the housekeeper right now. ‘Er—thank you for telling me.’
‘You’re welcome.’
But Mama Lu didn’t move away, and Camilla guessed she had something more to say.
‘You all right?’ she asked after a moment, and Camilla put up a hand to her throat, where the pale skin was so revealing.
‘I…yes. Yes, I’m fine.’
‘You didn’t eat much last night,’ Mama Lu declared, revealing that, although Wong Lee had served the meal, she was still very much aware of what went on.
‘No.’ Camilla forced a polite smile now, and pointedly took her seat at the table. ‘Perhaps I’ll do better this morning.’
‘You had a disagreement with Alex yesterday afternoon, didn’t you?’ the housekeeper persisted, clearly not prepared to be intimidated by anyone. ‘About the phone call you took from Mrs Virginia. You should have told him about it. Makes you look like a conspirator, if you see what I mean.’
Camilla held up her head. ‘Are you in the habit of discussing your employer’s affairs with his guests?’ she enquired in her most daunting tone, but Mama Lu merely shrugged.
‘I just thought you ought to know that he took that real bad,’ she replied carelessly. ‘Seems like he trusted you to tell him if you had any word from Mrs Virginia, and you let him down.’
‘Let him down?’ Camilla snorted. ‘I didn’t let him down. How was I supposed to tell him anyway? He wasn’t here.’
‘You could have phoned his office.’
‘Oh, yes? D’you think he would have wanted everyone there to know that his wife had phoned me?’
‘When he came home, then?’
Camilla clenched her fists. ‘I didn’t get the chance.’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘No.’ Camilla refused to be intimidated in her turn. ‘For heaven’s sake, why does it matter anyway? He already knew all there was to know.’
‘Mmm.’ Mama Lu shrugged. ‘So what did she say? It must have been something pretty bad to get him all riled up like that.’
Camilla caught her breath. ‘If you think I’m going to discuss what—’
‘She tell you why she ran away?’
‘No.’ Camilla refused to be drawn.
‘How about their marriage, huh? Yeah, I guess that’s what she’d tell you.’ She paused, and then, apparently satisfied with what she could read from Camilla’s expression, she went on, ‘She tell you Alex doesn’t care about her, yeah? That they have separate rooms? That he hasn’t touched her in heaven knows how long?’
‘Mama Lu, please!’
‘OK, OK. You don’t wanna talk about it. I can understand that. But, whatever she told you, you remember she married Alex ‘cause she needed his money to subsidise that little habit of hers, capisce?’
Camilla swallowed. ‘You don’t know that for a fact.’
‘Don’t I?’ Mama Lu’s lips twisted. ‘I’ve had to clear up after her plenty of times. I know, believe me. You ought to ask her about that mother of hers. Why she’s locked up in that sanatorium in England. They say she’s lucky to be alive, but, me, I’d rather be dead than living in some mental institution!’
‘A mental institution!’ Camilla was horrified, but Mama Lu only nodded.
‘That’s right. A mental institution. That’s what it does to you, you know. If it doesn’t destroy you physically it destroys your mind. And Alex has been paying to keep her in comparative luxury, since a couple of years after the wedding.’
Camilla couldn’t believe it. ‘But Virginia said—’
‘Yes? What she say?’
‘That…that her mother was ill.’
‘She is.’ The housekeeper grimaced. ‘Like crazy as a loon, if you know what I mean.’
Camilla shook her head. ‘I—I don’t know what to say.’
‘How about starting to believe Alex when he tells you he’s going out of his mind with worry about Maria?’
Camilla lifted her shoulders. ‘I do believe that.’
‘And telling him anything you think might help him find her.’
‘I have…that is…’ Camilla moistened her lips ‘…I have thought of something. Will…will he be coming back here this morning?’
‘I wouldn’t think so.’ Mama Lu frowned. ‘You wanna tell me what it is?’
‘I’d—rather tell him,’ said Camilla, feeling the heat invade her cheeks at these words. ‘Um—do you think he would mind if I went to his office?’
‘To his office?’ Mama Lu looked doubtful. ‘He left instructions that you weren’t to leave the estate—’
‘What?’
Camilla gasped, and Mama Lu lifted her hands in a placating gesture. ‘Now, don’t you go getting all riled up about that. After what happened yesterday I guess he thought he had no alternative.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well—Mrs Virginia could call again, couldn’t she?’ said Mama Lu reasonably. ‘And there’s no saying what she’d ask you to do if he’s not here.’
‘Huh!’ Camilla was unconvinced. She knew exactly why Alex had issued that instruction, and it had nothing to do with her well-being. He might not have taken her passport away from her, but he had done his best to ensure that she didn’t leave the island until he said she could. Damn it! He couldn’t do this to her.
‘Anyway, you could call his office,’ suggested the housekeeper after a moment. ‘I’m sure if Alex thought you wanted to talk to him he’d come home—’
‘No!’
‘What do you mean?’ Mama Lu spread her hands. ‘If Alex doesn’t want you to leave here there’s no way—’
‘Isn’t there?’ Camilla looked up at her, and now the light of determination was clearly visible in her eyes. ‘I wonder what the local constabulary would have to say about confining a foreign national against her will?’
‘The local constab…oh, you mean the cops?’ Mama Lu shook her head. ‘Now, you wouldn’t do a thing like that, would you?’
‘I might.’ Camilla maintained her air of defiance, but she wondered if she would go that far. ‘For God’s sake,’ she added, ‘I’m not trying to run away! I just want to talk to…to Alex. One of the security men could drive me to his office, couldn’t they? And wait to bring me back again, if you think that’s necessary.’
‘Well…’ Mama Lu looked less sure of herself now. ‘I guess that might be arranged.’
‘Great!’
Camilla was relieved, but the housekeeper was still considering. ‘I could ring Alex—’
‘No.’ Camilla sighed. ‘Don’t do that, please. I promise, you can trust me.’
‘Can I?’
‘You’re going to have to,’ said Camilla, with more assurance than she felt. ‘And now, do you think I could have some French toast? And some coffee. I’m hungry. Really.’
CHAPTER NINE
WHETHER or not Mama Lu rang Alex to warn him, Camilla was determined to go into Honolulu, if only to prove to him that he couldn’t dictate what she was to do and get away with it. Besides, she did want to talk to him without the constant spectre of distrust between them.
Although she had told Mama Lu she was hungry, it took a real effort to swallow the French toast the housekeeper brought for her. It entailed smothering it very thoroughly with maple syrup, and the thought of the number of calories she was eating was horrifying. But it was delicious, and it would have been a shame to disappoint the cook, whoever she was. In any case, she was probably going to burn off at least half the energy consumed in her coming confrontation with Alex. She was already in a state of nervous tension when Wong Lee came to tell her the car was waiting.
It was a black car, a stretch limousine, she supposed it was called, and resembled nothing so much as a hearse. The windows all appeared to be blacked out, too, but she discovered she could see out perfectly well from inside the vehicle. Very appropriate, Camilla thought ruefully, climbing into the back. At least the mood was appropriate anyway.
Her driver was one of the security guards—or she assumed he was. He was very smart, with closely cropped hair and a dark moustache. He was wearing an olive-green shirt with epaulettes, and there was a badge, with a number on it, pinned to his sleeve.
She caught him looking at her through the rear-view mirror as they drove towards the gates of the estate. She guessed he was wondering who she really was, and why he had been detailed to drive her to his employer’s office. After all, she hadn’t exactly been visible about the grounds, and, although he probably knew her name, he was bound to be curious as to why she was still here.
Beyond the gates a noisy group of people jostled the car as it drove through, and Camilla was disturbed. It was only when she saw the expensive cameras slung about their necks that she realised who they were. It was obvious that Alex had not been successful in keeping Virginia’s and Maria’s disappearance from the Press, and Camilla’s sympathies strengthened at this unwarranted intrusion. Alex had so much else to contend with, she thought. He could do without this invasion of his privacy.
She wondered who had told them, and then realised that, with so many employees, it would be virtually impossible to silence everyone. Besides, the Press paid well for that kind of information. Particularly about a man who didn’t court a public image.
She had plenty of opportunity to admire the scenery as they drove into Honolulu, and this time she didn’t miss the towering bulk of Diamond Head, or the twin towers of the Hyatt Regency Hotel that overlooked Waikiki Beach. Her driver took her right along Kalakaua Avenue, and it wasn’t until they turned into the busy streets of the town that Camilla looked away from the ocean. There was so much to see: people swimming, and windsurfing; playing volley-ball on the beach; and of course the ubiquitous surfers, riding the foaming breakers right on to the sand. Holiday-makers, thought Camilla, half enviously, wishing she was one of them.
Tall buildings overshadowed the car as they drove into the business district of Honolulu. Jutting scaffolds indicated that more skyscrapers were being constructed, and the incongruity of seeing palm trees growing cheek-by-jowl with some concrete monstrosity struck Camilla as rather poignant. But there was an air of industry here, and the commercial section was buzzing with activity. Even so, many of the people she saw, men as well as women, going to and from their offices were dressed in the bright flamboyant colours for which Hawaii was famous, and she guessed they enjoyed brightening up their day.
The car eventually turned on to a coolly shadowed avenue with many official-looking buildings crowding the pavement. Camilla saw insurance companies, and stockbrokers, and several banks, before another cluster of reporters marked the entrance to the Conti building. Her heart sank. She had no wish to run the gamut of the Press, and she was much relieved when her driver turned into an underground garage, where another security barrier was raised to allow them in.
‘You can take the elevator up to Mr Conti’s office from here,’ remarked the driver laconically, lowering the glass partition that had prevented her from speaking to him on their journey and turning to glance at her. ‘Punch the button for the thirty-fifth floor. Mr Conti’s staff will tell you if he can see you.’
‘Oh—thank you.’ Realising he was not about to open the door for her, Camilla pressed the handle herself and slid out. ‘I—er—do I meet you here later?’
‘Not me,’ replied the driver, lowering his electrically controlled window when Camilla closed the car door. ‘My orders are just to deliver you here. I guess Carlo will be detailed to bring you back.’
‘Carlo?’
Camilla frowned, and the man explained. ‘Carlo Ventura. Mr Conti’s driver. Mama Lu said Mr Conti would deal with that. I got to get back to the estate.’
‘I see.’
Camilla didn’t really, but she had no wish to continue a conversation with someone who obviously regarded her as little better than the reporters at the gates. Who did Alex’s staff think she was? she wondered. Apart from those who worked in the house, that was. She was pretty sure Mama Lu knew everything about her.
‘OK. Be seeing you,’ the man declared, raising his window again and successfully ending their exchange. Still, Camilla had been glad of the concealing blackness earlier, she conceded ruefully. She had no wis
h for her picture to appear in the tabloid Press.
The limousine glided away, and Camilla looked about her. She was surrounded by cars of all kinds, and she guessed this was where the staff who worked in the building left their vehicles. But she wasn’t interested in car-spotting, even if one or two of the expensive-looking convertibles would have borne a second glance. Her task was to find the lift—no, elevator—to take her up to Alex’s office. The thirty-fifth floor, she thought with a grimace. It promised to be quite a ride.
In the event, it only took a few seconds. The high-speed lift swept her up to the thirty-fifth floor in something less than a minute, and when she stepped out on to a carpeted landing she felt as if her stomach were still somewhere around the fourteenth.
Yet another security check awaited her. A black man this time, in a navy blue uniform and peaked cap that resembled the other uniform only in its uniformity. He occupied a desk in a plush reception area, and she was slightly disconcerted to see that he wore a revolver strapped to his hip.
However, she evidently offered no threat, and he was coolly polite when he enquired what her business was.
‘Um—I’d like to see Mr Conti, please,’ Camilla responded evenly, squeezing her clutch-bag between her fingers and holding it at the extent of her arms so that it successfully hid the few inches of pale thigh visible below the short hem of her skirt. ‘My name’s Camilla Richards, and he does know me.’
‘You have an appointment, Miss Richards?’