‘I suppose we ought to start by telling Cristina where he is. There might not be much left of him after I’ve tackled him.’
‘Remember what I promised. I won’t let you kill him. I’ve heard too many horror stories about prison.’
‘Thank you.’ Lottie put her arms around Hannah and squeezed.
‘Oy, mind the clothes, miss greasy fingers.’
‘Sorry.’
Hannah stood and brushed herself down to remove the salt from her lap. ‘I stink of bloody vinegar now.’
‘Worth it though.’ Lottie also stood. As she did, she glanced out to sea. ‘Look, a boat’s coming in. Over there.’ She pointed.
‘Yeah. It’s nice.’
‘Right, clever-clogs, is that thirty-four feet? Just so I can get an idea of what we’re looking for.’
‘Maybe. It’s still a bit far out for me to tell. It’s moving at a fair old pace though. They must have places to be.’
A moment later, as the boat moved closer to the marina, they both noticed the name at the same time.
‘Cristina!’ Lottie shouted.
‘Without an h, just like his sister spells it,’ Hannah added.
‘Could it really be this simple?’
‘I don’t know. I guess so.’
‘It’s sailing into a space. Can we be seen from here?’ Lottie asked.
‘I don’t think so. But …’ Instinctively they both stepped back into the shadows. The remains of their fish and chips lay in its paper on the jetty, forgotten in the excitement.
They watched as a slim blonde woman jumped off the boat and landed on the jetty. She busied herself, skilfully tying up the rope.
‘Do you think it’s just her?’ Lottie whispered, although they were far enough away that such caution wasn’t entirely necessary.
‘Perhaps. But … the name.’
‘I thought boats were already named when you bought them. Maybe it’s just a horrible coincidence.’ Lottie continued to speak in a hushed tone.
‘Could she sail that alone?’
‘I have no idea. My dad wasn’t into sailing and Mum hated the water. It’s not my area of expertise. Ask me a question about horses.’
‘Maybe another time.’
Lottie giggled.
They waited, making sure their faces weren’t illuminated by the large bulbs that lit up the jetty at regular intervals.
‘Why are you hiding? Vincent’s never even met you.’ Lottie giggled again.
‘Just being cautious.’
‘Oh God, Han, I really need the toilet.’
‘Is now a good time for you?’
‘Sorry. I just can’t stop laughing. Not much of an investigator, am I? It is quite funny if you think about it. We’re hiding from some woman we don’t know, who just happens to be tying up her yacht that shares the same name as—’
‘Shit! That’s him. Isn’t it?’ Hannah interrupted Lottie’s monologue.
Lottie stuck her head out into the light, craning her neck to get a good look. ‘Yes. It’s him. I think I’m going to be sick.’ The giggling abruptly ceased.
‘Keep calm. Let’s just watch what he does.’ Hannah was so alive. Invigorated. It was like being back in the force.
‘I want to throttle the life out of him.’
‘Just keep quiet and watch. We need to see where he goes.’
‘I want to smash his head in.’
‘Lottie! Just watch.’
Vincent and the woman walked, hand in hand, down the jetty. Thankfully, they headed in the opposite direction from Hannah and Lottie, who followed slowly behind, keeping their distance and remaining in the shadows.
At the car park they watched as Vincent said goodbye to the blonde. A fairly subdued kiss. A brief hug. Then they separated and got into different cars, both throwing a bag into the boot before settling into the driver’s seat. Grabbing her phone, Hannah typed the registration plates into her notes. She wasn’t surprised to see that Vincent had gone for a black Porsche 911. He’d probably given into that whim not long after getting his hands on the cash from the sale of the Thorogood Estate. The guy was a walking cliché.
Vincent drove away first. Clearly in a rush to get somewhere. They watched as the blonde lady made a phone call, and then, because she seemed in less of a hurry to leave, Hannah took her chance.
The blonde lady jumped as Hannah knocked on her window. After a second’s hesitation, she pressed the button and the window glided down. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Sorry to bother you, madam. I’m the warden for this marina.’
‘The warden?’
‘Yes. Security.’ Hannah put on her best law enforcement voice.
‘Is there a problem?’
‘Not at all. Can I just ask, are you an owner or a visitor?’
‘I’m a visitor. But …’
‘I noticed you tying up the Cristina.’
‘Yes. It belongs to my friend.’
‘Oh, right, that’s fine. I just had it logged under a gentleman’s name, and I saw only you, madam.’ Hannah loved a bit of improv.
‘Well, I can assure you, Mr Russell was here with me a few minutes ago. I had his full permission to board the vessel, and to tie it up.’
‘I do apologise.’
‘I should think so. I’m not in the habit of stealing yachts, you know.’ The blonde lady replied, indignantly.
‘Quite so. I must’ve just missed Mr Russell. My mistake.’ Hannah treated Vincent’s lady friend to her most dazzling smile.
Immediately softening, she said, ‘I suppose Vincent would be pleased to hear someone’s looking after his yacht for him. He has only just bought it.’
Hannah continued to wing it. ‘That was exactly my reason for such vigilance. I’m sorry, I think I was a bit overzealous. Do you have far to drive, madam?’
‘No, just back to Kingshurst. Shouldn’t take me long.’
Taking a chance, Hannah asked, ‘So, not far from Mr Russell then?’
‘No, not far. I believe he’s in one of those rather lovely apartments across town, with the double aspect balconies. Recently converted, you know. Such amazing architecture.’
‘Yes, he is. Well, have a safe journey.’
‘Thank you.’ The blonde pressed the button and closed her window.
As the woman drove away, far more cautiously than Vincent had, Hannah joined Lottie, who had settled herself on a bench, awaiting news.
‘He’s still called Vincent. But his surname is Russell now.’
‘Twat!’ Lottie shook her head. ‘He doesn’t look any more like a Russell than a Robinson.’
‘And, what’s more, he lives in those fancy apartments that used to be the biscuit factory.’
‘No! They’re bloody gorgeous. So, he’s been … what? No more than twenty miles from Mulberry House, all this time?’
‘Yep. The cheeky fucker didn’t even have the good manners to move away.’
‘Unbelievable! I’m surprised I never ran into him.’
Hannah laughed, ‘I don’t think you were mixing in the same circles. He probably didn’t have much use for a budget supermarket.’
‘No. Or for Mr Bale’s favourite kebab house.’
‘Definitely not.’ Hannah cringed at the mention of their boss. ‘Vincent’s got no imagination. I mean, another bloody R surname. How lazy.’
Lottie tried out the new name. ‘Vincent Russell, I hate you. Yeah, that works.’
They walked back along the jetty to pick up their hastily abandoned fish and chip rubbish. Hannah took out her phone. ‘I’ll text the number plate details to Paul; we’ll have Vincent’s full address by tomorrow.’
Lottie said, ‘Great. You know … you were so different today, Han. I don’t how you kept so calm, I just kept wanting to laugh.’
‘That was just nerves.’
‘Yeah, but you were so cool. You definitely convinced that woman.’
‘I’ll have you know; I am an excellent private investigator. And I have just
located my first misper.’ Hannah punched the air.
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘You’d better believe it. We’ve found him.’ Hannah offered her palm in a high-five. ‘Don’t leave me hanging!’
52
Vincent – 2019
Throwing his regrettably unused little case on the bed, Vincent set about finding out a bit more about Abbie’s dad. He messaged a few well-chosen contacts, his expectation being that he might get some background info.
Before he’d even had the chance to make a pot of coffee, the concern he’d felt when he’d first heard about the pregnancy turned to total terror. Immediately, these people, whom he’d previously treated as friends, began replying to his message. It was clear from their choice of words that they were extracting ghoulish delight from providing him with all the gory details.
At an alarming speed, the texts kept coming, sometimes with such haste that auto-correct made a near nonsense of them. These ‘friends’ were literally falling over themselves to be the one to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that if he messed with Abbie’s dad, he would find himself well and truly fucked in the arse. Metaphorically speaking.
Vincent faced a decision – marry Abbie and spend the rest of his life in fear of his gangster father-in-law, or somehow get himself out of all this. He hadn’t worked this hard to get the life he wanted, to lose it all to a thug and his slapper of a daughter. If necessary, he would simply disappear. He’d done it before; he’d do it again.
The next morning, Vincent set the wheels in motion. He started by discreetly scoping out the prospect of a buyer for his apartment, making sure to instruct the agent that he would need a quick, cash only sale, and that there was to be absolutely no advertising. Apartments in his development were like gold-dust, Vincent knew there was a waiting list. He then moved a lump sum of money into an offshore account and set about releasing funds that were tied up in investments in the name of Russell. He also found himself a possible buyer for his beloved Porsche 911, just in case it did all go pear-shaped.
It would be an utter pain if he had to start again. It hadn’t been easy last time. He’d hated having to sell the MG and the Merc. It maddened him how people were ready to take his possessions off him, but never at the going rate. Bloody vultures! But vanishing was possible, and preferable to the alternative. He would probably have to go further afield this time, but that was okay. It was all doable.
With everything moving into place for another moonlight flit, Vincent decided it was worth trying, just once, to persuade Abbie that marriage and a baby were not right for them. If he could get out of this relationship cleanly and safely, he might not have to give up on Grace. It was the thought of abandoning his plans towards her that hurt the most. He wanted a future with her more than he cared to admit. But, ultimately, he would sacrifice her if he had to; nothing was worth being tied to Abbie and her dad for, not even the delectable Grace Bonner.
He replied to Abbie’s texts with an apology and an explanation that his phone had been playing up for a few days, assuring her that he was now back from his business trips.
Delighted to hear from him, she agreed to head over to his place to begin planning their future.
‘You want me to get rid of it. Like it’s an inconvenience to you. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘I didn’t say it was an inconvenience. I just meant that now isn’t the best time for us. You’re so young, Abbie. You have your whole life ahead of you.’
‘I want this baby, Vinnie!’
‘Please don’t call me that, it’s not my—’
‘Will you get your fucking priorities right?’ Abbie stabbed Vincent in the chest with one of her talons.
‘Right, I can see that’s not altogether an important point just now.’ Vincent ramped up the charm offensive. ‘I know you think you want this baby. I understand how it might sound like an exciting prospect for you. But the truth is, you are young. Look at those ridiculously long, tart-red nails. You couldn’t change a baby’s nappy with those!’
Taking a step towards him, Abbie pushed her face into his. Hers was contorted with rage. At that moment, she bore no resemblance to the pretty young woman he’d made the mistake of picking up in a nightclub. ‘I. Will. Cut. Them!’
‘It’s not all glamour, you know. It’s exhausting. Children are hard work.’
‘And you know this how?’
‘I watched my mother work non-stop. Washing, cleaning, feeding, cooking …’
‘I’ll get a nanny. You’ll pay,’ Abbie told him.
‘Then there’s your figure to think of.’ He knew she was proud of her flat stomach.
‘I’ll get a personal trainer.’
‘Have you thought about—?’
‘Vincent, whatever you come up with, I’ll just come right back at you with a fucking solution. You are not worming out of this.’
Vincent gritted his teeth. ‘I wouldn’t dream of trying to worm out of anything. I just think the timing could be better.’
‘Not all babies are planned. Not all babies come along at exactly the right time. Maybe this one,’ Abbie placed her hand over her belly, ‘is earlier than we wanted, but it’s not the end of the world.’
‘Says you.’
‘Yes, says me! I’m telling you; the end of the world comes when I call my dad and let him know you’re trying to back out of your responsibilities. When he hears that you were happy to shag his daughter but now you want her to get an abortion … OMG, he is gonna bust your arse so bad.’
Not for the first time, Vincent pondered how he had allowed himself to get into a relationship with this annoying little bitch. Bust your arse. What was this? A comic? Images of Grace in her lacy nightwear flashed before his eyes. He remembered the way she had neatly jumped off his yacht and expertly tied it up at the marina. She was so perfect. He could’ve had a wonderful life with her. She was the final piece in the puzzle. And now this! Abbie was about to ruin everything he’d worked for. He suspected that this baby was not so much a happy accident as a well-planned trap. Why the hell had he trusted her when she’d promised that the contraception side of things was all taken care of? That was another plus for having a relationship with Grace – no unwanted children.
It was now clear he was not going to talk Abbie into getting rid of the pregnancy, if indeed there really was one. Neither was he going to persuade her to let him go. There was to be no easy way out for poor Vincent. His only option was to keep her dangling for as long as it took him to sell his assets and get away. Damn. Realisation dawned that the yacht would have to go too – she knew about it now. He couldn’t catch a break. He was going to have to get back in touch with that useless salesman at Grosvenor. So be it. No one kids a kidder. She wasn’t getting her hands on his money, and neither was that gorilla of a dad of hers!
Taking Abbie into his arms, Vincent whispered, ‘I’ve thought about it all, and I have an important question for you …’ Stepping back, he dropped to one knee.
53
Lottie – 2019
‘What did Cristina say when you gave her the address?’
Hannah considered. ‘Not what I’d expected actually.’
‘Huh?’
‘I mean, she was polite, and she paid me in full.’
‘Great.’ Lottie gave a thumbs up.
‘She was amazed I’d found him so soon.’
‘I’ll bet she was!’
‘Especially given that he’d changed his name. She seemed a little disappointed that he was using an English surname.’
‘How did you explain finding him so quickly?’
‘I just said that her hunch about the south of England had been a good one, and the sailing thing was a big help, yada yada yada. She did seem grateful …’
‘But … what?’
‘I don’t know. It just felt like she was going to sit on the information for a while.’
‘What about his mum?’ Lottie asked.
‘I know. All I can say is, s
he didn’t say any of the usual things you’d expect, like – I’ll get there right away. She gave the impression it wasn’t as urgent as we’d first thought. Maybe she’s nervous about speaking to him again and needs to have a think about it.’
‘That means I can’t go and confront him. I need to let her see him first.’
‘I think so. Can you wait?’
‘If I’m honest, yes, I can. I have no idea what I’m going to do or say. Seeing him the other day was weird enough. I might just stalk him from a distance for a while.’
‘Be careful. Don’t let him spot you.’
‘I know what to do,’ Lottie said. ‘I’ve learned from the master.’
‘You were giggling your head off in the marina.’
‘I know. Like you said, that was just nerves. I’ll be fine now. I promise.’
They finished the last of the cleaning and were just signing their time sheets when Mr Bale arrived on their floor to check out the quality of their work.
‘Right. Wait here while I inspect the toilets,’ he commanded, his chins quivering as he spoke.
He disappeared into the Ladies, and Lottie nudged Hannah. ‘Let’s just go.’
‘But …’
‘I can’t stand the way he sneaks up on us, all full of his own piss and importance, and insists on examining the toilets. I’ll admit, when I first worked here, I was an awful cleaner, but I’m not now. And he needs to sod off with his checks.
‘If he comes out and sees we’re gone we’ll be for the high jump.’
‘So what? I’ve got long legs.’
‘Seriously, we could lose our jobs,’ Hannah insisted.
‘No, we won’t. Besides, you’re on the cusp of a great career as a private investigator – you’ve already got one happy customer – and I’ve just applied for a new job. So, we won’t need the wobbly faced pratt for much longer.’
‘What job have you applied for?’
Swindled (The Sandlin PI Series Book 1) Page 18