by Maggie James
‘You’ve got it bad,’ Caroline said when I paused to draw breath. She laughed. ‘Good to see. I want you to be happy, lovey. I’d hoped ...’ Richie’s name hovered between us, the atmosphere tight with tension.
She cleared her throat. ‘But anyway. So you met this guy on a dating website? Does that mean you’re intending to stay in England?’
She’d raised a valid point. Would I consider returning to the UK to be with Scott? But how could we progress our relationship if he believed I was an accountant based in Bristol, rather than an artist living in Spain? The enormity of my lies threatened to suffocate me. For a brief moment I wished I’d never started this insane quest. But then I’d never have met Scott. God, was this ever a mess.
‘Lyddie?’ Caroline’s voice punctured my thoughts. Her forehead was crinkled with concern. ‘What’s wrong? Is there something you’re not saying?’
She knew me too well. I took a gulp of wine, needing the alcoholic hit. Then I told her the rest. About Ellie being conned, how I planned to get revenge on the man who’d almost killed my sister. How I believed I’d found the culprit in Liam Tate. I didn’t mention the texts I’d been swapping with him, too ashamed of my drunken stupidity in firing off the first one. When I finished, I didn’t dare look at Caroline.
‘Holy shit,’ my friend said at last. When I glanced up, alarm was written across her face. ‘You’re playing a dangerous game, girl. This man is an expert at extorting money. Ruthless. Cold. Calculating. Who knows what else he’s capable of? I’ve known you for twenty years, Lyddie, and you’re as straight as they come. No lies, no bullshit. Until now, that is. You reckon you can beat a con man at his own game?’
She had a point. But then I remembered Ellie’s suicide attempt, the pain I’d endured because of Gary McIlroy.
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘But I have to try.’
‘Why not persuade Ellie to involve the police?’
‘She won’t. I’ve tried. None of his other victims will either.’
‘His other victims?’ I realised I’d omitted something from my explanation. I outlined what I’d discovered on Love Rats Exposed.
‘He’s conned at least two other women from that site,’ I finished. ‘They’re too ashamed to tell the police. One of them might, if her mum can persuade her, but even if she does, it’s unlikely he’ll get caught. Like you said, he’s an expert at his game. That’s why I need to do this, don’t you see?’
Caroline looked unconvinced. ‘I still say you’re playing with fire. Fecking crazy, this is.’
Silence, awkward and tense, settled around us. She was right, but my obsession still clung to me. One more date with Liam Tate, I told myself. Then I’d decide whether or not to drop the whole thing.
Unwelcome as crap at a christening, the memory of the texts returned. You don’t want to piss me off, friend... The last person who threatened me ended up regretting it...
‘So you met this guy Scott while you were hunting for the man who conned Ellie?’ Caroline said at last. ‘At first you thought he might be her ex, is that right?’
‘Yes. He’s not, though. Different hair, he doesn’t work in construction, and he’s too unsure of himself. No way is he a con man.’ An absurd idea. Scott’s shyness was beyond endearing.
‘So he thinks you’re ... what name did you say you gave him?’
‘Lynnie Connor.’ Caroline had recognised my dilemma.
‘And that you’re an accountant who lives at the Harbourside?’
‘Yes.’ I squirmed in my seat. My sins had returned to bite me on the butt, and I had nobody to blame but myself.
Caroline’s mouth tightened into a frown. ‘Tell the poor guy the truth. You have to, if this relationship is to go anywhere. He needs to know the real you. Sooner rather than later.’
‘I know.’ Misery threatened to swamp me.
‘The longer you leave it, the worse it will be.’
‘What do I say, though?’
‘You tell him what you’ve told me - about Ellie, about wanting justice for her. How you dreamed up this hare-brained scheme without thinking it through - don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right - and now you want to set the record straight.’
‘He’ll hate me, Caroline. He won’t want to see me anymore.’ My greatest fear made real. The thought of happiness with Scott being snatched from me hurt like hell. After two dates he’d burrowed under my skin, and I never wanted him to leave.
She blew out a breath. ‘There’s a chance that’ll happen, yeah. A good chance, if you ask me.’
‘I’ll talk to him. Soon.’ Panic washed over me, but Caroline was right.
‘Feck, Lyddie. What if Scott discovers you’re also dating this Liam guy? If he does, you’re screwed. And not in a good way.’
Oh God. I’d not thought of that. What the hell was I playing at?
My brain felt as though someone had forced it through an emotional wringer. ‘Shame I’m driving tonight. I’d kill for a single malt.’
7
After my visit to Caroline, I headed back to Kingswood and went straight to bed, my brain unable to decide my next move. My friend was right. I was playing a dangerous game, one that might destroy my chance of happiness with Scott. I procrastinated, telling myself I’d see how my evenings with him and Liam panned out and make a decision then.
I lay in the dark, my thoughts a mess. The display on my alarm clock read 2am. As I tried in vain to doze off, my mobile pinged, causing me to jump.
Hey there, friend. I’m right behind you. Getting ever closer. xxx
I stabbed at the ‘off’ button. The fucker didn’t mean that literally, did he?
The memory of the hooded man I’d seen earlier tormented my brain, despite my best efforts. I’d not spotted anyone hanging around after I’d left Caroline’s house, thank God. Nevertheless, I didn’t sleep at all that night.
Exhausted, I spent the first part of Monday morning moving my things to the Harbourside flat. It came fully furnished so all I had to do was transport my personal possessions there and make the place appear lived in. Several potted plants worked wonders, as did replacing the bland prints on the walls with my own paintings. A few throws on the sofas, plenty of cookery books in the kitchen, and it looked great, although still somewhat sparse. Everything was ready for Liam’s visit.
On impulse, I picked up my mobile and called Ellie. She’d seemed okay the last time we’d spoken, but I still preferred to keep tabs on her in person. Besides, she ought to know where I lived, should her mood ever take a downturn and she ended up needing a bolt-hole.
‘How about lunch?’ I suggested. ‘My treat.’ We arranged I’d pick her up from her flat at one o’clock.
Ellie looked better than I’d dared hope after I collected her from St George. We chatted about her sewing projects, about Mum, and she appeared animated, almost happy. After I pulled into my parking space at the Harbourside, she glanced around, confusion in her face. ‘I thought we were going to a restaurant?’
‘Not today.’ I switched off the engine and got out of the car. ‘Come with me.’
Ellie was silent as we walked into the entrance lobby, which boasted a profusion of potted ferns and a riot of marble. She didn’t speak a word while we rode the lift towards my apartment. No comment after I unlocked the door and ushered her inside. Instead, her eyes roamed around, taking in the leather sofas, the sleek coffee table, the rest of the furnishings.
‘What is this place?’ she asked. ‘And why are your paintings on the walls?’
‘This is my new home. For now, anyway.’
Her face clouded. ‘I don’t understand.’
A slight distortion of the truth seemed in order. ‘I needed somewhere to stay while I’m in Bristol. My house is too cramped, what with Amelia always inviting her friends to stop over, and I didn’t want to impose on either you or Mum. Or Caroline. So I rented this apartment.’
She frowned. ‘Must be costing you a bomb.’
I l
aughed. ‘It’s only short-term. Besides, I can afford it. Come on, I’ll make you lunch.’
Ellie was silent as I fixed us soup and sandwiches, her gaze hovering over the high-spec appliances, the granite work surfaces. Was that envy in her expression? She made no comment, however.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
Another frown. ‘I guess. It’s just that I’ve been missing Dad a lot lately.’
‘Me too.’ So that was why her mood had nosedived. She must have noticed the ornament on the kitchen windowsill. Black onyx, carved into an infinity symbol, it had been a gift from our father one Christmas. Ellie owned an identical one.
For the rest of our time together, she remained withdrawn, and her abrupt mood swing concerned me. Meanwhile, I had a date lined up with the very man who might have conned her.
That evening Liam was waiting for me by the door of Le Bistrot d’Yves, and I noticed his eyes flicker over my Audi as I parked up. I’d done my best to project wealth, having treated myself to a designer-label dress at the weekend. If I said so myself, I looked good, the cut flattering my curves and giving the illusion of a waist. My confidence was high. Tonight was the night I’d decide whether Liam Tate was also Steven Simmons, Rick Montgomery and Michael Hammond.
My thoughts went to the text I’d received that morning. I’m still watching you, friend. Every day I’m getting closer to finding out who you are. A shiver ran through me, despite the warm evening.
I forced my attention onto the man standing before me. He leaned in to peck me on the cheek. ‘You look lovely, Lynnie.’
‘Thank you.’ I smiled a fake grin, then led the way into the restaurant. I’d read good reviews about this place, and at first glance they didn’t appear wrong. The ambiance was intimate, cosy, upmarket. The silverware was heavy, the wine glasses top quality. Waiters sporting bow ties milled around bearing trays of covered dishes. Everything screamed expensive, opulent, chic. An impression confirmed once I saw the prices on the menu.
After we ordered - coq au vin for me, veal for Liam - I pulled my mobile from my bag. ‘I’ll just switch this to silent,’ I said, flashing a smile his way. ‘So we’re not disturbed.’ In reality, my fingers found the recording option and turned it on. It wouldn’t hurt to get into the habit of capturing our conversations on audio for when he revealed the fraudster behind his Mr Nice Guy mask.
Despite the circumstances, our date had its plus points. My chicken was delicious, the wine sublime. Liam was way too cocky for my tastes, but if I had to fake-date him, things could have been worse. Most of the time we talked about travel, with him professing to love Asia and regaling me with stories of his trips to Thailand. At times I almost forgot why I was there. Liam couldn’t compete with Scott though. I remembered the latter’s shy smile, that dimple, and grinned to myself.
‘Can I ask you something?’ Liam’s words pulled me from my reverie. ‘Have you dated anyone else? From Premier Love Matches, I mean?’
I wasn’t sure how to respond. Honesty held no appeal. I didn’t care to discuss Scott with this man, and besides, what would I gain? If Liam was my quarry, wasn’t it better he believed me solely interested in him?
‘No,’ I said. ‘Not since meeting you.’
‘It’s a sore subject, you see.’
I didn’t follow. ‘What is?’
‘Remember I told you my ex cheated on me?’
I nodded.
‘I know we’ve only met twice, Lynnie, but I don’t want you seeing other men.’
Whoa! Was this guy for real? Like he’d said, we were only two dates removed from strangers. I almost told him to go to hell, but didn’t - because of his expression. That darkness I’d glimpsed before sat in his eyes again, only blacker. More intense.
Apprehension drained the saliva from my mouth. I swallowed hard, then remembered my aim, which was to convince Liam I was interested in a relationship. However hard it might be, I needed to overlook his controlling behaviour. ‘Fine. If you’ll do the same.’
‘Of course.’ All smiles, he reached over and squeezed my hand. ‘Shall we get the dessert menu?’
It was while we were eating our next course I got another clue that Liam might be Ellie’s ex.
‘It’s done me good to come here tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ve been a bit down recently.’
‘How so?’
He exhaled a long breath. ‘The house renovations are bleeding me dry. And business isn’t great either. Construction’s an expensive game, cash flow is always erratic, and to be honest, I’m worried sick.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I replied, acting sympathetic. ‘You’re concerned about money, right?’
‘Yes. I’ve no problem in landing the contracts. It’s funding them that’s the difficulty.’ He ran his fingers through his hair, the motion jerky. Worry sat in the creases around his eyes, and a defeated air hung over him, in contrast to his former upbeat tone. I had to hand it to him; this man was an expert faker of emotions.
‘Will it get better?’ I asked. ‘If you can ride out the worst of it?’
He paused before answering. ‘Maybe. Some extra capital would work wonders, though. It wouldn’t have to be a huge amount, just enough so I could pay my office staff and settle a few overdue accounts.’
I wasn’t certain how to respond, but found I didn’t need to. Liam flashed me a quick smile. ‘Listen to me, burdening you with my problems. Forget I said anything. I don’t want to ruin a wonderful evening.’
‘You haven’t.’ I remembered my phone, recording our conversation, and how my next step would be to bag another date with him. Once he’d sown the seeds, I didn’t think he’d wait long before making a more tangible move.
After the bill arrived, he stopped me when I took my credit card from my purse. ‘This one’s on me.’
‘I can’t let you do that. Let me pay my share. Please.’ The total came to a shade under one hundred and fifty pounds, the most expensive meal I’d ever eaten.
‘My treat. I insist.’
‘But what you said earlier ... about your finances, I mean.’ I floundered, stymied in my search for words that didn’t sound tactless.
He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Mum gave me cash for my birthday a while ago. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.’ He took out his wallet, removed a wad of notes and counted them, slapping down a cool one hundred and eighty pounds for the bill and the tip.
A slick touch, I decided, to drop hints about his business problems and then demonstrate his generosity in the face of those issues. The fact he’d not used a credit card wasn’t lost on me either. Hadn’t Sophie’s mum Anna indicated this man dealt in cash whenever possible?
Outside the restaurant, I leaned against the Audi, smiling at Liam. The time had come to wow him with my new flat at the Harbourside. ‘I’d love to cook for you sometime. Do you like braised beef?’
We made arrangements accordingly. ‘See you Wednesday,’ I told him.
Satisfied with the way the evening had gone, I drove back to the Harbourside. The underground car park was deserted at that time of night, the silence magnifying the clicking sound as I locked the Audi’s doors. As I made towards the stairwell, I noticed someone watching me. He - his height and build betrayed his gender - was positioned at the top of the driveway leading to the parking area, his gaze fixed on me. A hoodie, along with the half-light up there, concealed his face.
‘Hey!’ My anger, and with it my fear, ricocheted off the walls. ‘Who the hell are you? What do you want?’
Useless, of course. The moment the man spotted me staring at him, he took off. I sprinted up the slope, but by the time I’d got to where he had been, he’d disappeared.
I leaned against the nearest wall, my breath coming in harsh gasps. Relax, I reassured myself. You’re fine. Probably just some bum, hoping to snatch my handbag, but he hadn’t succeeded, had he? I’d been safe enough, the parking area itself brightly lit and monitored by security cameras. The bastard would have been minus a
brain to have ventured any closer.
Then I remembered. The night I’d gone to Caroline’s, the man I’d thought might be following me. Also wearing a hoodie. About the same height and build, too.
Liam’s words came back to me. I don’t want you seeing other men. Was he spying on me? It would have been easy enough to keep a hoodie in his car, ready to transform himself into Mr Creepy whenever he chose. Might he have tailed me on my way home from Le Bistrot d’Yves? Had that been him stalking me when I visited Caroline?
God, the darkness in his eyes when he’d mentioned his cheating ex. I couldn’t discount the possibility that, besides being a con artist, Ellie’s former boyfriend might border on being psychopathic.
For several minutes I propped myself against the wall while my breathing returned to normal. I considered the possibilities. Could Broken and Betrayed’s ex have tracked me down, despite my conviction he’d never find me? If he and Liam Tate were the same guy, then maybe, but I still considered it highly improbable.
Or perhaps Liam was following me, driven by his jealousy issues, but unaware I was the anonymous texter who’d threatened him with prison. That seemed a more likely explanation.
Quit being so paranoid, I admonished myself. Weirdos abounded in any city after dark, and life in my sleepy Spanish coastal town had most likely rendered me complacent. The guy had probably been some random bum. So long as caution was my watchword, I’d be fine.
So why did fear continue to haunt me?
In the sanctuary of my apartment, I checked the sound quality of my recording. It was faint, but Liam’s mentions of his money worries were audible, which was all I needed. For the time being, anyhow. I saved the file on my laptop and logged onto Love Rats Exposed.