by Susan Lewis
‘Yes, it will,’ Louisa whispered, feeling herself recoil from any thought of time passing when all she wanted was to go back.
‘Did you ever find out who the man was at Consuela’s pretending to be his father?’ she said after a moment.
‘No,’ Erik sighed. ‘I didn’t speak to Danny at all after that. I tried, but she was never there.’
‘Well, whoever he was he had Danny pretty convinced he was Jake’s father. What’s Jake’s father like? Have you ever met him?’
Erik smiled. ‘He’s like Jake, but older.’
‘What happened to his mother?’
‘She died, about a year ago now.’
‘Oh no,’ she groaned, weighed down by sadness for him. ‘What a terrible time in his life this has been.’
‘I know, it’s a wonder he’s still sane.’
Watching her feet sink deeper and deeper into the sand Louisa felt the same burying sensation of pain in her heart. Then she raised her eyes to gaze out across the shimmering orange sea to where the rising sun was emerging from the horizon, bringing with it another day. ‘I wonder what he’s doing now,’ she said softly.
The room was totally silent as it had been for the past hour. Tendrils of cigarette smoke languished in the faintly perfumed air. Every so often a match flared as someone lit up and once or twice one of them got up, stretched, and went to use the bathroom. Outside the ground floor suite the hustle and bustle of hotel life went on regardless, waiters wheeling trolleys through the exotic, landscaped gardens, the click of high heels on the winding concrete pathways, an incessant stream of Spanish coming from the suite next door. The light inside the room was growing dim, casting long shadows through the arches that separated the sitting area from the bedroom.
All four men were unshaven, all four had dark rings of exhaustion around their eyes. Jake was the only American, the others, Fernando, his assistant Javier, and Pedro were Mexican. The index finger of Pedro’s right hand was still bandaged, there were faint marks on his decrepit, old man’s face from the beating he had taken.
Pedro’s bloodshot eyes moved warily towards the phones on the glass-topped table. They were like the Americano, silent, impenetrable, unpredictable. Throughout that long day only one had been used, the other two waited, as they were waiting.
Pedro’s eyes moved on, coming to rest on the sweeping curve of the window. The shadows of night were claiming Guadalajara. His brother should be there by now. His brother should pick up the phone any second.
Javier snored and Pedro’s eyes darted to his drooping figure in the corner. Using his foot Fernando flicked Javier’s ankle from his knee, jerking him forward and waking him. Javier ran a hand over the stubble on his chin.
Pedro knew that the Americano’s eyes were watching him from beneath their lowered lids. He didn’t like the Americano’s eyes, they seemed to bore right into his soul. Pedro wanted to be out of here. He wanted the money and then he wanted out of here. His brother should be there by now.
Another hour passed. Javier munched a pack of Doritos, Fernando ordered room service. When the food came the Americano didn’t eat. Pedro ate, but the shrimps dried on his tongue under the Americano’s gaze.
Javier flicked through the TV channels, then threw the remote on the bed and tore open the door to swear in Spanish at the noisy, key-jangling maids.
Suddenly a telephone exploded into life. Everyone jarred. It was the wrong phone and everyone relaxed. The Americano got up from the bed.
As he spoke Jake’s eyes relinquished their hold on Pedro.
‘Yes, it’s me,’ Jake said, hearing Erik’s voice.
‘Any news?’ Erik asked.
‘No. How are things your end?’
‘Hard to tell. Something’s got to break soon though.’
‘Are you in the clear?’
‘Let’s put it this way, they haven’t arrested me yet.’
Jake frowned. He was in no mood for humour. ‘What’s the latest on Morandi?’
‘The charges still stand.’
Jake paused for a moment as he thought. ‘Still nothing on Consuela?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Where’s Louisa?’
‘At Jean-Claude’s.’
‘OK. You know what to do if …’
‘I know what to do,’ Erik interrupted. ‘Any message for her?’
Jake stared blindly at the dry logs in the hearth. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just keep her away from Consuela. I’ll call you in a couple of days.’
Putting the receiver down Jake picked up a can of beer and cracked it open. His eyes had returned to Pedro and Pedro’s hand twitched with the desire to cross himself as he inwardly prayed that his brother was picking up the phone right now.
The storm would be sure to break tonight, Consuela was thinking, as she wiped a handkerchief around her neck and gazed out of her bedroom window at the swirling clouds. Please God, let it break, for this humidity was unbearable. She wondered what it was like in Mexico, if the heat was getting to Jake the same way, then sighing through clenched teeth she dropped her forehead against the cool pane of glass.
The call telling her he’d made it there had come two hours ago, but still she hadn’t heard from the people holding Martina. But they would call, she told herself. As soon as they got her message they’d be in touch for she was prepared to match what Jake was offering and half as much again. They wouldn’t be able to resist that and they knew she’d be true to her word, she’d never let them down yet. And Jake was an unknown quantity, they wouldn’t know if they could trust him, so they’d be sure to want to continue to do business with her.
That’s what Martina was to them, a business. It had kept them in tequila and tortillas, smart American suits, flashy European cars and luxurious haciendas for over three years now, they wouldn’t risk giving that up. Please God, they wouldn’t take that risk, for whatever else happened in this unholy mess, Martina must not be returned to Jake.
Seeing Marianne’s white Golf coming up the drive Consuela took a fresh handkerchief from a drawer and wandered back to the bed to lie down. She was wearing a thin, cotton night-gown, much like a hospital gown, her face was colourless, her eyes red-rimmed and sore. Poor Frederico, he was so worried about her, was fussing around her like a mother hen, keeping the other boys at bay and seeing to the running of the house. He was so loyal and so capable, thank God he was there, for these had been difficult days, the most difficult since Martina’s kidnap from the boat. Consuela wished to God now that she’d never let it be known that Martina was still alive. She’d only done it to torment Jake, but no matter how passionately or convincingly she’d denied it since he still hadn’t given up the search.
She looked across to the door as Marianne came in.
‘How are you?’ Marianne asked, moving to the bed and sitting on the edge.
‘I’m fine,’ Consuela said weakly, wrapping Marianne’s hand in hers. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Just for a drive. I needed to get out for a while.’
‘Did you manage to speak to Louisa?’
Marianne shook her head. ‘No. Erik is with her all the time. I can’t get her alone.’ Her eyes lost focus for a second as she lifted them to the satin draperies of the bedhead. ‘I keep asking myself what they want with her now,’ she said quietly.
‘Maybe they don’t want anything with her,’ Consuela said. She turned her head on the pillow and stared out at the milling clouds. ‘If only the police would let her go back to her own country she would be safe then. Why won’t they, do you know?’
‘Erik says it’s because she was with Jake the morning Danny was killed and now that Jake’s no longer here he can’t bear witness to that.’
‘But why should it matter where she was that morning?’ Consuela said, confused.
‘I don’t know,’ Marianne confessed. ‘But apparently there was some kind of a fight between Danny and Louisa the night before and Louisa threatened Danny with a knife.’
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sp; ‘Oh là là,’ Consuela murmured. ‘So now Louisa has to account for all her movements before they will let her go?’
‘I imagine that’s the case,’ Marianne said, lowering her gaze to their entwined fingers. ‘Erik says Jake’s statement is on its way, but we’ve only got Erik’s word for all this and …’ She got up, suddenly agitated, and walked across the room.
‘What is it?’ Consuela said gently.
‘It’s just … It’s just that I can’t make myself believe that Erik would have done that to Danny,’ Marianne answered in a pained and bewildered voice. ‘He could never have got from the airport in time and besides, I just can’t believe he’s the sort of man who would kill someone simply because Jake told him to. It doesn’t make sense, not when Erik’s who he is, when he has an international reputation …’
‘You’ve never heard the story of how they met, have you?’ Consuela said wearily. She seemed to let her mind wander for a moment, then said. ‘They were young offenders both of them way back in their teens, in New York. They met in some kind of correctional facility and they’ve been as close, or as the English say, as thick as thieves, ever since. I don’t think there’s much they wouldn’t do for each other, they both have souls as black as a demon’s and faces and charm to sway any girl’s heart.’
Marianne dropped her head, letting her hair curtain her face. This was all so confusing, she didn’t know who to believe any more, who to turn to for advice and she felt so caught in the middle that it was like standing at the centre of a street where it was only a matter of time before disaster struck.
‘I just wish I could speak to Louisa alone,’ she mumbled. ‘The trouble is, now that she knows about you and me I don’t think she’d trust me. There doesn’t, as far as I can make out, appear to be even a fraction of doubt in her mind about Jake. She truly believes everything he’s told her about Martina, she even believes that Martina is alive.’
Consuela’s eyes closed for a moment, then summoning a smile she held a hand out towards Marianne. ‘Come and sit down, chérie,’ she said, patting the bed. ‘Sit down here and listen to what I am going to tell you.’
By the time Consuela had finished Marianne had curled herself into a ball and was resting her head in Consuela’s lap. Had she been looking into Consuela’s eyes she might have felt a moment or two of unease, but no more than that. As it was, her only thought was for Louisa and how she could get Louisa away from them all.
‘Louisa! For God’s sake, what’s the matter?’ Sarah cried, as Louisa got out of her car looking so shaken she seemed almost on the point of collapse.
‘Nothing,’ Louisa mumbled. ‘It was nothing …’ Then throwing her arms around Sarah she clung to her as if terrified Sarah might leave her.
‘What is it?’ Sarah pleaded. ‘What’s happened? Where have you been?’
‘I went to Antibes,’ Louisa said shakily. ‘I bought some things in the market there …’
‘Yes,’ Sarah said, holding her by the shoulders and encouraging her to go on.
‘Then I was walking back down the hill, towards my car,’ Louisa said haltingly, ‘and I saw … Oh Sarah, I thought I saw Danny.’
Sarah’s eyes rounded with horror, then pulling Louisa back into her arms she said, ‘This has all been such a strain. It’s a bloody nightmare, it’s no wonder you’re seeing things … Oh, poor Louisa. Poor, poor Louisa. Come on, come inside, I’ll make you some tea.’
‘Sarah,’ Louisa said, stopping her. ‘She saw me too. She saw me and … She waved, Sarah. She waved at me.’
Sarah’s face creased with concern as her heart thudded with alarm. ‘We’d better speak to Jean-Claude about getting you to a doctor,’ she said gently. ‘You must have something to help you sleep or you’re going to make yourself ill.’
Louisa allowed herself to be led into the house and a few minutes later she, Sarah, Jean-Claude and Didier were sitting on the terrace drinking coffee. Louisa was feeling a bit stronger now, the shock was wearing off and she could almost raise a smile at the way she’d dropped her shopping in the middle of the street, allowing it to scatter and roll down the hill as she’d stood there staring into the café. Then she’d run, as fast as she could through the crowds, to her car.
‘I feel such a fool now,’ she said self-consciously. ‘I mean, obviously it wasn’t Danny. But it looked so much like her. And you know, the strange thing was, at first, when I first saw her, I almost went running over to her. Then I remembered that she was dead and I felt this horrible panic come over me.’
‘It’s not unusual after a bereavement to think you are seeing the person you ’ave lost,’ Jean-Claude remarked solemnly. ‘But I think Sarah is right, we should get the doctor to give you something to ’elp you sleep.’
‘Did you see her face?’ Sarah asked.
Louisa shook her head. ‘Not really. Whoever she was, she was sitting with some other people inside the café. But then, when she looked up and saw me and then waved … Well, that was when I dropped my shopping and ran. What an idiot,’ she grimaced, shaking her head. ‘Obviously the woman must have been waving to someone behind me, but I didn’t think of that. All I thought was that I was seeing a ghost.’
They all smiled politely, then sat staring thoughtfully into their cups until a rumble of thunder growled through the swelling, darkening clouds, bringing their heads up.
‘I wish this storm would break,’ Sarah sighed. ‘It’s been hanging around like this for two days now.’
‘It’ll be a bad one when it comes,’ Jean-Claude warned. ‘There is very much electricity in the air.’
‘Where’s Erik?’ Louisa asked.
‘He popped over to Monaco to pick up some things from his apartment,’ Sarah answered. ‘He’ll be back later. He told me he spoke to Jake again early this morning. They still haven’t got to Martina.’
Louisa pressed her lips together and returned her eyes to the dregs in her cup. ‘Did Jake say anything else, do you know?’ she asked, knowing it was selfish to be thinking of herself when he was going through such a terrible ordeal, but she couldn’t help it.
‘I don’t know,’ Sarah answered. ‘But I’m sure Erik will tell you if there’s a message for you.’
‘There won’t be,’ Louisa stated flatly. ‘It’s over now, he won’t send messages because he knows that if he does it’ll just keep my feelings alive.’ She looked up and forcing herself to smile she said. ‘What news is there on Morandi?’
‘The same,’ Sarah sighed. ‘He’s still sitting there terrified out of his mind that he’s never going to get out and even more terrified of what’s going to happen to his kids if he doesn’t.’
Jean-Claude looked around the table and seeing so many glum faces he said, ‘Who’s for a game of scrabble?’
Everyone was, for it was one of the few things that could make them laugh right now, since Jean-Claude and Didier played in French and Sarah and Louisa played in English – and all four of them cheated like crazy. But the best thing about it was that it helped take their minds off the way the entire world seemed to be taking a pause, holding its breath, and waiting for the storm to break.
It was just after lunch when the telephone rang and Jean-Claude passed it to Sarah. ‘It’s Morandi,’ he told her, returning to the terrace where at last Louisa was sleeping, albeit fitfully, in a reclining armchair.
Didier was down by the pool collecting the cushions from the garden furniture before it rained and as Sarah went inside Jean-Claude sat down at the table, returning to the reports his accountant had sent him and wondering if he could put off going into Cannes. Probably not, he thought, seeing that several of the documents needed signing urgently. A few minutes later he looked up as Erik pulled into the drive at the same instant as Sarah came out of the kitchen and stared at him with a beaming, yet incredulous smile.
‘They’re letting him go,’ she declared. ‘He just told me they’re letting him go.’
‘But that is wonderful,’ Jean-Claude exclaimed.
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‘What is?’ Erik said, walking up the steps to the terrace and dropping his keys on the table.
‘They are releasing Morandi,’ Jean-Claude answered.
Erik turned to Sarah, eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘When did you hear?’
‘Just. He called to ask me to go and pick him up.’
‘Does that mean they know who killed Aphrodite?’ Erik said.
‘I don’t know. All he said was that he is no longer a suspect and they are letting him go.’
‘So what are you waiting for?’ Erik laughed. ‘Go get the man.’
But Sarah didn’t move. She was looking at Louisa and wondering how the hell she was going to break the rest of the news to her. Morandi was being released, she was to go and pick him up, collecting her passport at the same time then the two of them were to be out of France by the end of the day. But how was she going to leave Louisa when Louisa was in such a bad way?
‘It’s OK,’ Erik said, putting a comforting arm around her when she explained. ‘I’ll take care of Louisa. You just get Morandi out of here and back to those kids of his and think yourself lucky to be out of it all.’
Sarah nodded, but the terrible guilt and fear she felt at leaving Louisa was crushing. ‘Will you come with me over to the villa to pack up my things?’ she said, turning to Jean-Claude. She couldn’t ask Erik because she couldn’t put him through the pain of having to walk into that villa again.
‘It’s OK, I’ll take you,’ Erik said, turning to gaze across at the shuttered villa.
‘But I don’t understand why they’re not letting me go too,’ Louisa cried as she and Erik sped along the autoroute back towards Antibes. They’d spent the past hour at the police station in Nice waiting for someone to come and explain why her passport wasn’t being returned and now Louisa’s nerves were so on edge and her frustration was at such a pitch she wanted to scream.
‘They will,’ Erik assured her, ‘just as soon as Jake’s statement gets here.’
‘But why is it taking so long?’
‘Nothing in this country moves fast, except the drivers,’ Erik answered, but it raised not a glimmer of a smile from either of them.