As soon as she and her sister reached the bank of shiny elevators outside Doctor Levine's suite, she crumpled the paper on which the prescription was written into a little ball, and threw it into the standard ashtray, before the doors slid shut, noiselessly behind her. “Won’t be needing that,” she said to Michaela.
*
That night, Shilo had a rather unfortunate experience with Charles. She was sitting next to the roaring log fire in the drawing room in an old leather armchair glancing through the album she had compiled of her trip to Africa, when Charles sauntered in, highball in his hand, the ice chinking in the crystal tumbler. His timing was terrible as her mind was full of Stratt as he was so much part of her time there. He came and sat on the arm rest, and put the glass down on the side table.
“Shilo, dear. It has been so long. Come up stairs with me.”
“No thank you, Charles, I am exhausted. The doctor still has to come back with the results of my blood tests. I am definitely coming down with something. You don’t want to catch any of my terrible tropical germs,” she lied.
“Always the bloody same, isn’t it?” he chirped. “As frigid as the virgin snow.”
Shilo always had a suspicion she may be frigid, until she met Stratt, that is. She put it down to her unfortunate experience with Bill Moffat all those years ago, and therapists had warned her it would have an effect on every relationship she would ever have. But his biting remark failed to rile her as it always had done before. She knew that she was simply not attracted to Charles in that way.
He put his arm around her, and tried to kiss her. She turned her head away to escape his mouth. He grabbed her cheeks quite roughly with his right hand and forced her head around. He forced his mouth onto hers while groping with the buttons on her shirt.
“No, Charles. Please,” she said firmly.
But he was persistent and then Shilo’s instincts set in. She pushed him away with all her might, sending him reeling back a few feet and landing with a thump on his backside on the Persian. His tumbler of whisky lurched precariously on the side table, splashing its contents.
“Get off me!” she shouted. “Just leave me alone, Charles.”
“What is wrong with you, woman?” he snapped, “I haven’t seen you for well over a month. Surely you should want to sleep with me after a month? Or have you been getting it elsewhere?”
“As frigid as the virgin snow,” she mimicked. “Charles, I am just not I the mood.”
“You will sleep with me … we are to be married one day. How dare you push me away. You just stop your games with me Shilo, or else I’ll …”
“You’ll what, Charles? Strangle me? Kill me?” she taunted.
He started, but then he gritted his teeth and warned: “Don’t you dare embarrass me at the ball, Shilo. They are all expecting us to be together. To announce our engagement shortly.”
“Is that a threat, Charles? You think you can threaten me? There will be no engagement, Charles,” she said firmly. “I do not want to get engaged yet. And certainly not to you.”
Charles picked up his drink, the ice clinking noisily in the glass, and stormed out of the room.
“We’ll see about that!” he shouted just before the door slammed shut behind him.
He stood in the passageway for a few moments seething.
“Damn the bitch!” thought Charles to himself.
He was not going to let her whims and fancies spoil his neat little plan. Engagement to Lady Shilo Delucci was part of it. Who would suspect a man newly engaged? How could a man in love, freshly engaged to an attractive woman, a Lady to boot, be a suspect in a serial killer case? He needed to speak to Henri. He had to be engaged before the month was out. Perhaps a surprise engagement before Christmas at the ball would be a good idea. How could she possibly refuse him in front of all of those people and the press?
*
For the next few days, every time the telephone rang, Shilo jumped. And at last, three days later, the call came.
“Shilo Delucci here,” she said after Forbes had called her to the telephone in her father’s study.
“Ms. Delucci?” Doctor Levine here. I’ve got the results of your tests back and you’re absolutely fine – no anaemia, low blood sugar or low blood pressure… Definitely no tropical diseases. But, and I don’t know if this is good news or bad news for you remembering your mother’s reaction to your sister’s news, you’re expecting a baby.”
Shilo’s heart did a flutter. She was expecting this news, and she thought she would have been disappointed if the results had come back negative.
“Doctor Levine, I am overjoyed at this news, but I need to ask you something. While I was in Africa I had malaria and was on medication, and I’m not sure whether I fell pregnant before or after that. Will the baby be okay? “
“I am almost positive that it would have been too early to have a negative effect. The body has protective mechanisms, and if damage had been done, it would have spontaneously aborted. Do not worry about that … It’s the least of your worries. I think it’s the wrath your parents you need to be more concerned about.”
“I’ll deal with them, doctor. Thank you for calling me, but you realise absolute confidentiality is required here in the face of what happened before. Nothing is going to happen to this baby.”
She replaced the receiver gently in its cradle, and stared blankly at the paintings of horses, of which her father was so fond, that lined the study walls. She was pregnant. There were no regrets as part of Stratt was inside her, living and growing. And although he was far away in Africa, this life inside of her would be hers forever – a pleasant reminder of the most wonderful time of her life. A small thrill of excitement passed through her. She caught her reflection in the gilt framed mirror in the entrance hall. She looked pale and tired with black rings under her eyes. Pregnant! She was going to have to think of how to deal with this, as the family was definitely going to be a problem. Not to mention Charles Lambert-Carr. She quickly walked upstairs in search of Michaela.
*
The email arrived three days before Christmas. Stratt’s heart pounded as he printed it out so he could read it away from the bustle of reception and prying eyes and found a secluded spot in the gardens where he could find some peace. It was four o’ clock. He could hear a guest tinkling on the piano in the lounge, the sound of others laughing by the pool where a bingo game was in progress, the elastic bounce of a tennis ball from the tennis courts behind the hedge, and in the background, the intrepid hum of the wild. He sat with his back against an acacia tree in a quiet part of the garden behind the pool. Strelitzias bloomed a vivid orange and violet to his left, and giant tree ferns grew up the rockery underneath which the pump whirred that sent a fake waterfall trickling into the cool, blue swimming pool.
His heart sank when he realised it was not from Shilo after all. He had tried, hopelessly, to get Shilo out of his mind, but she crept back in almost every minute of the day. Every time the post was brought in from town, every time the telephone rang, every time he downloaded the e-mails, he silently prayed there would be some sign, some message. Maybe this was the sign he had been waiting for. It was from Michaela
“ Cairnsway
Somerset
21 December
Dear Stratt
Greetings from a cold and snowy London. I had to write to you and my sister will literally kill me if she finds out – but she won’t tell you, so I will. You have the right to know…”
Stratt could almost predict what was coming next. He glanced at the date at the top of the page, 21 December. It had been written only a few hours before. He toyed with his gold chain that Shilo had given him with one hand. He read on…
“Shilo found out yesterday that she is expecting your baby. She is not unhappy about the news, in fact, quite the contrary. She is scared but thrilled as she acknowledges that part of you is growing inside her. But she does not know what to do next. You remember what I told you about my parents? They, of co
urse, don’t know yet…”
He could hear his heart thudding in his ears. He removed his Nike cap and put it on the grass beside him and one hand moved up to his mouth.
“When they find out, it is all going to hit the proverbial fan. They’ll either force her to marry that awful Charles Lambert-Carr, make her have an abortion or send her away, like they did to me. Perhaps they will send her back to Africa!
She has a stronger character than I do, so she’ll fight them all the way. But any way, she wasn’t going to tell you – not because she doesn’t care, because she does and she’s still deeply in love with you, but because she doesn’t want to put you on the spot. She doesn’t believe that is fair. But I think you have the right to know. I hope you forgive my forthrightness … because I know she won’t if she ever finds out.
We are all very well, and in the throes of preparations for Christmas. It is bitterly cold and threatening snow … and we all miss sunny South Africa. Please send my greetings to Philip. Tell him Dorianne misses him terribly.
Fondest regards
Michaela Delucci”
Shilo was pregnant with their child. Those few moments of truth – those two passionate encounters… and she was pregnant. He wanted to laugh; he wanted to cry. It had been so desperate and passionate neither one of them had thought about birth control. He was going to be a father! What was he going to do? She didn’t want to tell him – and deep down he felt a little hurt about that – but she had her reasons. Maybe she thought it would make him feel obliged to do something. To act. He had to think about it. He could call her, send her an email – or he could go to her.
*
Corbett put a tail on Lambert-Carr, and the young detective assigned to the case was led from pillar to post as his suspect visited trendy nightclubs, a brothel in Soho, exclusive restaurants and the Delucci mansion; he drove into the country twice, only to make a U-turn and drive back into London. His telephone was tapped, and his cell phone was monitored, but that brought no further leads. The detective did notice that he bought a copy of each edition of all major city newspapers each day and scrutinized every page in a nearby coffee shop. What did he find so interesting? News on the serial killer perhaps?
Corbett was getting nervous. He had nothing concrete on the man at all … only hearsay and perhaps an avenging ex-girlfriend’s suspicions. But he had a gut feeling about this Lambert-Carr chap. He just needed to bide his time. He would slip up sooner or later and then they could nail him … and the likeness to Bernice’s identikit image was shocking!
His lucky break came at last. His impatient lady witness called him.
“Corbett here,” he said casually.
“Why haven’t you arrested him yet? I told you who he was.” The woman’s voice was abrupt and crisp and smacked of opulence.
Corbett froze. It was pennies from heaven. His anonymous letter-writer. “Who’s speaking, madam?” he asked, pencil poised once more.
“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in the welfare of his present girlfriend,” the voice replied.
“You’re not a jealous ex?” he asked, knowing already what the answer would be. Her voice was too old and too refined to be that of a twenty-year old ex-lover.
“Definitely not, she answered indignantly. “I am old enogh to be his mother!”
“Are you family?”
“Never mind who I am,” she replied, “why hasn’t he been put behind bars yet? For goodness sake, you know who he is – do something. Arrest the man!”
“Madam, I need real proof and not just your suspicions. We have the killer’s DNA, but nothing to match it with. We have no concrete proof that it was Lambert-Carr – only what you have told us and we don’t even know who you are. We’re tailing him but it has revealed nothing and we can’t just go around arresting people. If we did – there would be a witch hunt instigated by everyone who bore a grudge.”
“I can get you some of his DNA if you need it.” Her voice was calm and decisive. “Just tell me what you need and I will get it.”
“How on earth are you going to do that?”
“You wait and see,” she said.
“Don’t you do anything illegal, madam,” he said, but she had already put down the phone.
Oh goodness, Corbett thought, here was a woman who knew nothing about the law who was going to go about gathering DNA. He hoped it did not involve hurting anyone!
*
Philip Ogilvy was standing in reception, talking to Rebecca. He smiled when he saw his son walking towards him.
“Dad, I need to talk to you,” he said, still clutching the letter in his hand.
They retired to his father’s office and he shut the door.
“What is it, son?” he asked.
“I’m going to fetch Shilo and bring her back here… if she’ll have me,” he said.
“What?”
“She’s pregnant with my child, and I want to marry her. I’m going to England to get her,” Stratt said, realising how idiotic he must sound. “And if I was you, I’d come and get Dorianne…She’s missing you. It says so here,” he tapped the letter in his hand.
“She’s not pregnant too, is she?” Philip asked in mock surprise.
They both laughed.
“Stratt, Dorianne is coming back here in April. We’re going to talk about it then… see if the period away from each other works, and see what we can work out. But if you need to go and fetch Shilo, you do it, but just make darned sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. Would you have gone if it wasn’t for the baby? Shilo will question that, you know.”
“I would have probably have gone eventually. I love her and she loves me, that’s all that really matters. The problem is I don’t think she’ll survive here… like Iris …” he said, drifting off. “What happens if she won’t come back with me? Or worse, what happens if she does come, hates it and then leaves?”
“Well, since we’re on this subject, there are a few things I need to talk to you about. I’m sixty-five next year, and it’s time I thought about retirement. I have that lovely house in the Cape that your mother and I bought years ago, and that just stands empty… and I think, if all works out with Dori next year, I might just move there, and use the lodge as a holiday place. You can take over completely, and your lovely Shilo can, well, be the Lady of the Manor, as it were.”
“That sounds absolutely perfect… if she’ll come. It will be a god-forsaken, lonely place if I have to run it alone! She has not agreed to anything yet as I did not have the balls to ask her when she was here – selfishly thinking about rejection and being hurt again.. She does not even know that I know about the baby. Her sister told me.”
“Quite a reproductive year for the Delucci girls, I should say. I wonder how Carina will react to this one. Maybe she’ll send them back here again! Then all our problems are solved,” smiled Philip.
“Be serious, Dad. What if she says she can’t live here in the bush? What if she ends up leaving me like Iris did?”
“What if… what if? What will be will be, and you won’t know till you ask, will you? Give Robert a call at South African Airways… he owes me a favour.”
“Dad, am I doing the right thing?” Stratt asked.
“I cannot answer that for you, son. You will only find that answer in your heart.”
Stratt nodded, and he knew what he had to do.
CHAPTER 14
Stratt sat back in the business class seat and gripped the arm rests in trepidation. He hated flying with a passion. He was so dreadfully afraid of taking off, of mid-air problems like turbulence and of course landing. He did not know why though – he had never had a bad experience – it was just a phobia … and probably too many Hollywood movies about air crashes. But he had a plan: As the giant engines roared and the whole aircraft vibrated and shook, he clutched the gold chain that Shilo had given him in his hand, and closed his eyes and thought of Shilo. Her face loomed before him in his mind’s eye, wonderfully beautiful and flaw
less. He was going to see Shilo, and this was the only way of getting there.
“Shilo, Shilo,” he breathed as the giant bird took off into the clear night sky.
*
The hand-delivered package arrived on Corbett’s desk at nine on the morning of the twenty-third. It contained a used Kleenex, a cotton wool ball with a brown smudge on one side as if it had been used to clean a face and a few strands of dark hair. A short typed note read:
“Here it is, Corbett. Now arrest the man and stop dilly-dallying! These were taken from his bedroom last night.”
He rushed it over to the laboratory and demanded that the DNA test was a priority and should be seen to immediately. If the DNA matched what they already had from Bernice, then they had their man! He had to move fast. He imagined that the woman’s life might be in danger if she was stealing samples of DNA from a remarkably bright serial killer, and besides, he wanted to relax over Christmas.
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