'Of course we couldn't accept the painting, Mr Quest,' said Mr Bernard as we sat in the small sitting-room. 'It would have been quite wrong - Flora should have known that.'
His wife poured coffee and offered cake. 'She was angry with us, but in the end she did as we asked.'
'And what did you ask her to do?' I said, although I had already heard the story through my police contacts.
'She sent it back to them, of course,' said Mr Bernard. 'Special delivery. We couldn't keep stolen goods in our house.'
'I think she saw it as rightfully yours,' I said gently.
'It was ours once,' said Mrs Bernard. 'But David -'
Her voice faltered.
'David, our son, used it to bargain for our lives,' said Mr Bernard. 'He bought our freedom with it.'
'He wouldn't rest until we left France,' added his wife. 'We didn't want to go without him. But he said he couldn't continue his work for the Resistance until he knew we were safe.'
'So we left,' said Mr Bernard with a trace of bitterness in his voice. 'Flora helped us to get out. A lovely girl, but in this case - wrong-headed. I suppose she thought that by restoring the painting to us she could turn back the clock. To a time when David was still alive. Of course he will always be with us - in our hearts. But she needs to get on with her life now. Can you help her?'
'I can try,' I told him.
'That's all anyone can do,' said Mrs Bernard.
'Do you know where she is?' I enquired. I hoped she hadn't gone overseas. It would be the devil's own job to trace her through Europe with things the way they were: displaced people everywhere and none of the trains or border crossings operating as they should.
They both smiled, as if they shared a secret.
'She's walking along the promenade,' said Mrs Bernard. 'She walks there every day. Backwards and forwards. Rain or shine.'
I was already on my feet, ready to go.
There were crowds, of course: children darting under your feet, old people hobbling along on sticks, middle aged couples with nothing left to say to each other and young lovers who didn't need any words.
She had walked on past all the others and was leaning on the railing, staring at the sea. She was dressed all in black again but her red hair wasn't quite so regimented into curls as it had been the last time I had seen her: a few strands had escaped and framed her face, lifted by the breeze from the sea. She was incredibly beautiful.
'Flora,' I said, capturing her hand as it lay on the railing. The scratches had faded a little, merging with her sun-tan. Being by the sea suited her. I wanted to tell her that one day we would buy a flat on the promenade, with a sea view, and she could walk here as often as she liked for as long as we both lived. I wanted to assure her we had a happy life ahead of us, but that didn't mean we would lose touch with the past either.
'So you've caught up with me, Freddie,' she said, half-turning towards me.
'Your name isn't Fiona McFlannery, is it?' I said.
'I think you know it isn't. I'm Flora Murray. Can we start again? Pleased to meet you, Mr Quest. Or may I call you Freddie?'
'Yes, if you like.'
We shook hands.
'Are you going to arrest me again?' she asked, watching my face.
'I've left the police force,' I told her.
'Not because of me?'
'Not exactly. Some people laughed a bit about what happened.' I thought back to the open derision shown by my immediate superior when I told him I had been outwitted by a woman. And his anger when it turned out that the name she had given me didn't even exist. 'But it wasn't really that. It was partly what you said about being flexible. And I was offered the chance to do something different.'
'What's that?' she asked.
I had the sense that everything - my whole future and perhaps hers too - depended on my reply. I hoped it was the right one.
'Someone wants me to look for lost art works. It will mean travelling, of course. And possibly an element of danger. What do you think?'
'It isn't up to me.'
I smiled. 'It is, you know. I need a partner, and you've got some experience in the field.'
Her eyes, very green in the bright light from the sea, widened. 'Me?'
She put a lot into that one word: surprise, joy, excitement.
She held out her hand. I took it, drew her towards me and kissed her.
'Will you turn me in to the authorities if I don't agree to be your partner?' she asked in a moment.
I shook my head.
'All right, then, I'll do it!' she said decisively.
We stood there for a while, breathing in happiness with the sea air. Today was just for us: tomorrow we would go hand in hand into the future.
Cecilia Peartree, author of
Crime in the Community
Reunited in Death
A Reformed Character
The Mountain and the Flood (Sheila Perry)
Cecilia Peartree is the mystery-writing pen name of a database manager from Edinburgh. She lives in a leafy suburb, writes in the conservatory and has three cats. As well as writing, she helps with theatre props for an amateur group and has done some family history research.
Un-Valentine’s Day
By Kristine Cayne
Cassie Ames stepped off the elevator and sighed in disgust. The worst part of her job was the trek through the mall-level of GameHard’s downtown San Diego office building to get to the street. After the previous year’s Valentine’s Day horror, the last thing she wanted to see was yet another fat Cupid armed with a bow-and-arrow, advertising show-her-you-care specials for guys with no imagination.
Walking beside her, Noah Jensen leaned close. “Something wrong, Cassie?”
His warm breath swept her neck, making her shiver. What was going on? Was all this Valentine's Day corporate propaganda getting to her? As the assistant director of marketing for GameHard, she knew better than to fall for a bunch of meaningless marketing hype. Noah was a friend, a good friend. And she didn’t want that to change.
She waved at the storefront displays of red chocolate-filled hearts, stuffed animals, and coffee mugs with “romantic” sayings on them. “I can’t believe women fall for this stuff.”
Stopping at a rack in front of Love In Pink, she picked out a mauve lace teddy and held it up. “If a guy gives this to his girlfriend or his wife, what is he saying?”
Noah glanced at the teddy, then up to her face, holding her gaze for a moment. His cheeks reddened, and he looked away. She almost laughed. One of GameHard’s top engineers, Noah was a sweetheart, shy and a bit of a nerd, especially around women. Which was why she loved hanging out with him. His lack of testosterone was refreshing.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “You’ve probably given something like this to a girl before. What did it mean to you?”
He looked back at the lingerie. “Okay. To me it says: roses are red, violets are blue. I love Valentine’s Day. And you.”
She rolled her eyes and wiggled the teddy. “This does not say I love you.”
He tore his eyes from the shimmying lace and lifted a dark brow. “All right, what do you think it says?”
“When a guy gives something like this to a girl, he’s saying: roses are red, violets are blue. Put this on ‘cause I wanna screw you.”
A broad grin bloomed on Noah’s face and he held up his hands in surrender. “That pretty much sums it up.”
Something flipped in the pit of her stomach. She’d expected him to argue, to insist Valentine’s Day was all about romance. Like Drew had. “You admit I’m right?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. A lot guys forget to let their women know how special they are. And once a year, we’re reminded to tell them.” He stopped and shrugged. “But yeah, sometimes, it’s just a good excuse to get in a girl’s panties.”
She set the lingerie back on the rack and eyed him warily. “Are you a closet romantic, Noah?”
“I’ve done the flowers and candy thing more than once.” He
held up a shopping bag. “In fact, I’ve got some here for my mom and my sister.” When she widened her eyes, he flushed and started to stammer out an explanation. “No, no. I didn’t mean that I wanted to… That came out so wrong. We are not that kind of family.”
“I should hope not.” Cassie laughed, taking in his perpetually tousled brown hair, his full lips, and the exceptionally long lashes framing his dark brown eyes. Expressive eyes he kept hidden behind unfashionable thick black eyeglasses. Noah was as sweet as the candy in his bag. “No special girl this year?”
He shot her a lopsided grin. “There is this one girl I like, but she doesn’t know I exist.”
She frowned. “Someone I know? Maybe I could help.”
He laughed and threw an arm around her shoulders, drawing her toward the exit. “I can handle her on my own. A little time is all it’ll take.”
Cassie looked up into his smiling face and sparkling eyes. Her chest tightened up and a feeling of loss swept through her. “She doesn’t stand a chance. What do you have planned?”
After squeezing her arm, he let go and pushed open the heavy door leading out to the street. A gust of wind buffeted her, blowing her hair into her eyes. He gripped her elbow to steady her. “She’s not ready for me yet. What about you? Any plans?”
“None, and I refuse to feel bad about it. Valentine’s Day has no meaning. It’s just a Hallmark holiday.”
Sliding his hand to her shoulder, he swung her around to face him. “I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t we both take the day off and hang out together?”
If he thought he’d wine and dine her just so he could get her in bed, she had news for him. “If you’re thinking pretty clothes and fancy restaurants, count me out.” Last Valentine’s Day, Drew had bought her a beautiful dress and sent a limo to bring her to Marvello’s, a high-end Italian restaurant. Throughout the entire meal, she’d watched him expectantly. When he’d excused himself after they’d ordered dessert, her pulse had raced, certain her dream was about to come true. Her prince charming was going to sweep her off her feet and whisk her away into a future of wedded bliss.
But while her heart had been banging in anxious anticipation of a marriage proposal, he’d been banging their waitress in the employees-only restroom.
Gentle fingers pressed under her chin, forcing her to look up into Noah’s concerned face. “Hey, you okay? You seemed a million miles away.”
She averted her eyes, blinking back the traitorous tears that blurred her vision. “I just really hate Valentine’s Day.”
“Whoever he is, I’d love to beat the shit out of him.”
Her lips twitched. “That’s something I’d pay to see.”
“So, you’ll do it? I promise, no romance. We’ll just hang out together like two friends and have fun—the opposite of Valentine’s Day.”
She hesitated. Noah should be spending his energy on that girl he liked, not wasting his time coddling her. “Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t like seeing shadows in your eyes.”
Well, crap. That was already the most romantic thing a guy had ever said to her.
“Okay, but if I see one candied heart or hear one sappy love song, you’ll be buying me coffee for a month.”
He grinned and crossed his fingers over his heart, then held them up in a Scout sign. “We’re going to have a blast. I’ll give you the best Un-Valentine’s Day ever.”
Noah plopped onto the barstool beside his friend Joey and grabbed the bottle out of his hand. As Joey stared, Noah tossed the beer back, hoping it would settle the nerves jangling in his stomach. No such luck. He bent over and banged his forehead against the wooden surface of the bar. “I am so fucked.”
“Yeah? And now I’m out of beer,” Joey said.
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Bartender, two more,” Joey called out. He shook Noah’s shoulder. “Come on, what’s your problem? Being fucked sounds like a good thing to me.”
Noah pushed himself off the bar and glared at Joey. “Don’t you ever take a night off from being an asshole?”
Joey heaved out a sigh. “All right. Tell me what’s going on and maybe we can fix it.”
“I’m spending the day with Cassie, tomorrow.”
“Cassie? The girl in marketing you’ve been crushing on since the Labor Day picnic?” A grin curved his lips, and he punched Noah in the shoulder. “You dog.”
Noah had been chasing Cassie for months, and while she seemed to enjoy his company, she’d clearly relegated him to the dreaded “friend zone.” “It’s going to be a fucking disaster.”
“Color me confused, Romeo. You’ve got a Valentine’s Day date with a girl you like. You wine and dine her, then take her back to your place for a little nightcap, and bingo, hot babe in your bed. I’m really not seeing the problem.”
“The problem is—”
The bartender arrived with their drinks, interrupting him. Noah held out a twenty. “Keep the change.”
Joey picked up his bottle and raised it in a toast. “Here’s to getting lucky.”
Now that was a goal he could sign up for, but that wasn’t all he wanted from Cassie. Far from it. He knocked his bottle against Joey’s and slugged back the beer. “As I was saying, the problem is—actually there are three problems—this isn’t a date. We’re just hanging out. Second, Cassie hates Valentine’s Day. And I mean major phobia. And third, the biggest problem: she treats me like one of the girls.”
Joey choked on his beer and began coughing.
Noah slapped him on the back a few times, but when tears of amusement began trickling from the corners of his friend’s eyes, he swore and turned his back.
A few minutes later, when he had caught his breath, Joey tapped his arm. “Sorry man. Let’s just take this one problem at a time. She thinks you’re gay? Where’d she get that idea?”
Noah shook his head. “I don’t know if she thinks I’m gay exactly, but she obviously doesn’t see me as boyfriend material.”
Joey eyed him critically up and down. “You do kind of have the computer geek vibe going.”
“Why? Just because I don’t wear suits to work like those stuffed shirts in marketing?”
“Could be. Could also be the pressed jeans and Call of Duty T-shirt. Not to mention the glasses. Didn’t you get contacts recently?”
He looked down at his jeans. They weren’t pressed, for God’s sake; they were new. And the T-shirt had been a gift from his nephew. His mother had warned him to wear it at least once a week if he wanted to continue having Sunday night lasagna. He’d do anything for his mother’s lasagna. But the contacts…. “They made my eyes burn, so I stopped wearing them. But yeah, I could try again.”
“What I don’t get is that if she hates Valentine’s Day so much, why is she spending it with you?”
“I convinced her that we could spend the day together and have fun. No romance. No Valentine’s Day anything.”
“I’m still not getting it.”
“Think Un-Valentine’s Day.”
“Huh. So, what do you have planned?”
“Nothing yet. I’m hoping you can help me figure that out.”
Joey stared at his bottle for a minute, then looked up. “We have two goals: one, make her see you as more than a computer nerd, and two, come up with activities that are the opposite of what she’d expect.”
Their eyes met and they both grinned. “Un-Valentine’s.”
“She’s probably expecting a day of antiquing on Adams Avenue in Normal Heights followed by drinks in Seaport Village at the Edgewater Grill.” Joey’s eyes twinkled as he raised his bottle, his little finger extended.
There were few things in life Noah dreaded more than shopping with a woman—the endless browsing, the hours of indecision, the discouragement, the tears, the drama. A shudder ran up his spine. He’d rather have his chest waxed by an angry ex-girlfriend. “Yeah. Not going to happen.”
“That’s it!” Joey said, slapping him on the back. “What
do men love almost as much as women love shopping? I’m thinking speed, gasoline, moving mechanical parts.”
“You mean take her to the race track?” He shook his head and took a sip of beer. “The last thing I want is her sitting beside one of those macho professional race car drivers for six laps.”
Joey laughed. “You’ve got a point. How about go-karting? You could take her to the Miramar Speed Circuit.”
Noah’s head popped up. “Go-karting? That’s brilliant. She’ll never expect it, and I’ll get to look manly as I expertly zoom past her.”
“Just don’t wipe out, or she’ll know you’re a dweeb.”
“Funny. After the races, we can have lunch at the track.”
“Perfect. Fast food, lots of noise. Unromantic in every way.”
Hmm. Yeah, that was the plan.
“What about the afternoon?” Joey asked after polishing off his beer.
“I’ve just thought of the perfect place.”
“Going to clue me in?”
“It goes something like pfft splat!”
“Oh man, you’d better warn her to wear disposable clothing,” Joey said, laughing.
Noah yanked his cell phone out of his pocket and waved it at his friend. “Even if she doesn’t have fun tomorrow, I’m going to have a blast.”
“There you go. Show her who’s the man, and maybe she’ll start treating you like one.”
And maybe he’d finally break free of the friend zone. Or maybe she’d be so pissed at him, she’d kick him out of her life completely.
After slurping down the last of her coffee, Cassie glanced at her watch again. Almost ten. She grabbed her purse and keys, then ground to a halt in front of the hallway mirror. Jeez. Noah had said to wear clothes she didn’t mind getting dirty, but had he really meant old jeans and a plaid shirt? She looked like her father on one of his male-bonding trips with the guys. Was Noah taking her fishing? Ugh, she hoped not. The thought of impaling a wiggling worm on a hook had her ready to toss up her Starbucks and toast.
Hearts and Arrows Page 6