‘She’s not exactly an angel. I don’t think they have piercings!’ Lottie laughed. ‘But she is a great friend, and I think she brings out the good in me. If you’d have told me a few years ago that there were people out there who were prepared to help out others in the way her mum and dad have helped me, I never would’ve believed you, honest to God.’
‘I’m happy for you, Lottie. I was so worried. I mean, you know, when your parents … and then that bloody Vincent …’
‘I know. You were a good friend too. Right there when I needed you.’
‘It was nothing. What that bastard did to you …’
Lottie didn’t really want to be reminded. ‘Don’t think about it, Jen. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin both our lunches.’
‘Okay.’ Returning to the subject of the plan to deliver Dixie, Jennifer added, ‘So, I’ll see you or maybe your friend Hannah later then.’
‘Yes. You promise you don’t mind me taking her back?’
‘Of course I don’t. She’s your fur baby. And I’m going to have some wild nights out now!’
‘You’re such a party animal.’ Lottie laughed. ‘I’d better go.’
‘Take care.’
‘Yes. You too. Thanks for everything.’ Lottie hung up.
That conversation with Jennifer had taken her mind of Vincenzo for precisely ten minutes.
At last, the end of her working day rolled around, and she finished her final phone call, shut down her computer and headed off.
As soon as she was out of earshot of the auction house, she tried calling Hannah. ‘Hi. Can you talk?’
‘Yeah. I’m hands free.’
‘Did he turn up?’
‘Yep.’
‘Was he surprised to see you instead of me?’
‘You could say that.’
‘But you got him to talk, right?’
‘Yes. Listen … do you think we ought to discuss this at home?’
Stopping dead in the street, Lottie asked, ‘Why? What did he say?’
‘I’m nearly home. I can tell you everything when—’
‘Everything?’
‘Actually, shall I pop and pick you up?’
‘Can’t you just tell me? Did he have something to do with me losing all my money?’
‘No, you were right about that.’
‘So …?’
Lottie heard Hannah sigh. ‘He’s sort of responsible for your parents.’
‘For what about my parents?’
‘For their deaths.’
‘What?’
‘Well … not exactly responsible. He’s … involved … and … it’s … comp … and … get home … sit down and talk prop …’
Lottie pressed the phone to her ear. ‘Say that again. I can’t hear you, Han. You’re going all robotic on me.’
‘His fault … but … was there.’
‘Huh?’
‘Going into Ayresworth … no signal. Speak … soon and …’ The line went dead.
Lottie stamped her foot. ‘For fuck’s sake!’ What is she on about? Vincenzo involved in my parents’ deaths? This is crazy.
She resumed her short walk to the bus stop. Arriving, she found she’d just missed the 5.30 bus. Bugger it. That last customer call had taken too long.
Faced with the prospect of waiting half an hour for the next bus, she knew that wasn’t going to be an option today. She tried to call Hannah to accept the offer of a lift, but her phone went straight to voicemail. She must still be driving through bloody Ayresworth.
Lottie made her decision. She needed to know what the hell was going on with Vincenzo. Selecting his number from her contacts list, she made the call before she had time to think.
‘Hello.’
‘Vincenzo or Vinnie or fucking Chen, whatever your name is. It’s Lottie. I need to see you.’
‘Will it really be you this time? Or some private dick chick?’
‘Yes. It will be me.’
‘Seriously? I’m not meeting you if that woman’s gonna come along. She’s a nightmare.’
‘It’ll just be me.’ She answered, abruptly.
‘And no coppers?’
‘I just said, didn’t I?’
‘Okay. Did she tell you what we talked about?’
‘Kind of.’
‘Right.’
There was a stony silence as Lottie tried to control her hammering heart.
Vincenzo asked, ‘So, where do you want me to be?’
‘I’m not far from No. 21. Have you got a car?’
‘Yeah. I’ll pick you up from outside.’
‘Fine.’ She hung up.
Walking back towards the pub, Lottie was incredibly torn. She was desperate to hear what he was going to tell her, but she had no idea how she was going to cope with the information when it came.
Within ten minutes she was in Vincenzo’s rust bucket. ‘Is this thing even road worthy?’
‘Yeah.’ He frowned. ‘It’s got an MOT and everything.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Just ’cause it isn’t your dad’s Bentley.’
‘Shut up! Don’t mention my dad. You don’t know anything about him.’
‘But I do, Lottie, don’t I? We both know that. Otherwise, why are you here?’
‘Fine. But leave his Bentley out of it. Anyway, where are we going?’
‘Heath Lane.’
‘Heath Lane?’
‘The broken fence panels, by the stream.’
‘We’re going to the meadow?’ Lottie wasn’t sure she was ready to go back there again, especially not with Vincenzo.
‘Yes. We’re going to the meadow.’ He nodded, knowingly.
Lottie didn’t want to ask the question, but she knew she must. ‘Why are we going there?’
Vincenzo took his eyes off the road for a second; he held Lottie’s gaze and said, ‘I guess I just need to tell you the truth.’
60
Hannah – 2019
Hannah checked the time on her phone again. ‘Why isn’t she home?’
‘Maybe she’s gone off,’ her mum answered.
‘Gone off! What is she – cheese?’
‘You know what I mean. Gone off with a friend or gone on a date. She is allowed a life outside this house, you know.’
‘I know she’s allowed to go out. Of course she is, just … not tonight.’
‘What’s so special about tonight?’ Her mum asked. ‘Do you mean because Dixie’s here?’
‘I … No, it’s got nothing to do with Jennifer dropping off the dog. But, come to think of it, Lottie was so excited about getting her back, wasn’t she? You’d think she’d rush home.’
‘Yes. I’m quite excited myself. She’s a dear little thing, isn’t she?’
‘Uh huh.’ Hannah wasn’t really listening. Her mind was whirring.
‘And Jennifer seemed nice. Although in a bit of a hurry. She didn’t even want a cup of tea. I wonder who her date is with. She was very attractive, wasn’t she?’
‘Mum, I can’t think about all that shit at the moment. I don’t care who Lottie’s friend is going on a date with or why she didn’t want tea. I can’t think about any of that. I just need Lottie to come home.’
‘I think you’re being a tiny bit over-protective.’
‘Mum, it’s too complicated to explain. I just need her to come home. Or answer her bloody phone.’
‘Are you jealous?’
‘Of what?’
‘If Lottie has a boyfriend or a new friend.’
‘No! Oh, just shush. You don’t know anything about it.’ Even if Hannah wanted to explain it all to her mum, where the bloody hell would she start?
‘All right. There’s no need to get snappy.’
‘There is, Mum. There really is. If ever there was a time to get snappy, now is that time.’
‘Well, why didn’t you pick her up from work, if you’re so desperate to see her?’
‘I thought it could wait. I …’ Hannah shook her head. S
he couldn’t tell her mum that she had an awful sense of déjà vu. She should have turned the car around as soon as they got cut off. She should have driven to the auction house and explained everything to her friend. Instead, like an idiot, she’d come home. And now, surprise, surprise, she had no idea where Lottie was. The only thing she could be absolutely sure of was that wherever she was, she was with that bloody lad. Why had she told her that he was involved in her parents’ deaths? Why didn’t she realise instantly that Lottie was bound to contact him? Back when Lottie thought Vincent Robinson was responsible, she said she was worried that if she ever came face to face with him, she might not be able to stop herself from killing him. Now she thought it was all Vincenzo’s fault, what could she be planning to do to him? The last thing Hannah needed was another death on her conscience. When she did nothing, Dawn died. She had to do something this time!
61
Vincent – 2019
What an ignorant man the salesman at Grosvenor was. Vincent had called him to ask if they could meet now, to enable the hand-over of his yacht, and the cheating git had reminded him that there were still two hours before their appointment. Pointing out that they had other clients to see, and they gave precedence to sales as opposed to purchases, the salesman had managed to make Vincent feel small and insignificant. A feeling he had hoped never to experience again!
Was it not enough that he was getting Vincent’s yacht at a great price? No. The man had to remind him that there were people out there who could afford far larger vessels than Vincent’s, and that they took priority over him. Bastardos, the whole company!
He’d stopped off and sold the Porsche, as arranged, which had been heart-breaking. Now, after a short taxi ride, he planned to wait in the marina for the useless salesman to join him.
However, after a few minutes, he began to panic. Was that a black jeep in the car park? Were those two blokes who were striding towards him the sons of his last victim? Why was that heavyset man in a black hoody staring at him? He found himself wondering who, out of all the thugs who appeared to be baying for his blood, was going to get to him first.
The choices seemed to be to head to the airport and abandon all hope of getting any money back on the boat, or take it out to sea and sail it around for a couple of hours, before returning to dry land to meet the Grosvenor dickhead.
Vincent made his decision. Chucking his suitcases below deck and untying the Cristina from her moorings, he set sail.
Once out at sea, he removed the sim cards from both his phones and disposed of them, along with the handsets, over the side of the boat. Goodbye, Abbie. Good luck with your imaginary baby. So long, Candy. You have very photogenic tits. What a shame you turned out to be such a two-faced cow. He would get a new phone once he’d settled in Nice. A new phone for all his new friends and acquaintances. And neither of those two bitches would ever be able to trace him.
The next two hours were pleasant enough. It was a bittersweet experience, knowing that he was going to have to hand his yacht back so soon after buying it. But, out in the Solent, things were quite calm, and he loved being away from all his worries. Apart from avoiding the Isle of Wight ferries, he enjoyed the challenge of sailing his vessel alone. There was plenty to think about. He needed to remember everything he’d been taught about handling a boat this size, and he became lost in thoughts of knots, cleats, jibing and tacking.
Vincent’s mind was so full, he could almost forget that people were after him. Almost, but not quite. He vowed to himself that this time things would be different. He would never again be swayed by a pair of tits. If he hadn’t met that empty-headed bitch … or boasted to Candy. Oh, what was the point? What was done was done. It was almost time to head back and start life as Mr Royal.
He’d decided to coincide his arrival back on dry land with that of the Grosvenor salesman. If anyone was waiting for him at the dock, they wouldn’t make a move on him in front of a witness. He would be on the boat with the salesman, and then, when all the paperwork was signed and the money transferred, he’d stroll back to the yacht place with him and jump into a taxi outside the shop. Next stop, the airport! It was a great plan. That stick insect from Grosvenor wouldn’t know it, but he would be acting as a fucking bodyguard!
At the same time as the Cristina sailed into its mooring, the salesman from Grosvenor was leaving a message on Vincent’s now defunct phone to explain that something had come up and he was unfortunately not going to be able to make the meeting today after all. Vincent, of course, did not get the message.
62
Lottie – 2019
‘After you.’ Vincenzo swung back the broken fence panels.
‘Thank you.’ Lottie stepped through into the meadow.
Automatically, they both checked the house, and were pleased there were no lights on. Even though they couldn’t be seen, it was still better if no one was home.
‘So?’ Lottie asked.
‘You want to know why I brought you here. That’s fair enough.’
Lottie still found it odd to hear a local accent coming out of his mouth. She walked over the bridge and stood by the stream. She was precisely opposite the spot where Douglas’s head had smashed onto the rock. Vincenzo followed her. His eyes were also drawn to the exact same place.
He was here! The day Daddy died. He must’ve been. Blood rushed around Lottie’s head. There was only one explanation. Vincenzo must have pushed him.
‘I didn’t push him. If that’s what you’re thinking.’
Lottie jumped. Jesus! ‘What then?’
‘I swear I didn’t push him. In fact, no one did. He just slipped. I watched it happen.’
‘But …’
‘I was stood right here, and he was over there, on the other side of the stream. We were talking. Well … shouting. He took a step in my direction, and … whoosh, he went down like fucking Bambi on ice.’
Lottie had so many questions, she wasn’t sure where to start. In the end she decided to lead with the thing that saddened her the most. ‘But why did you leave him? Just floating like that. For me to find!’
‘I panicked. I’m sorry. I thought I’d get the blame. If I told the police what we’d been arguing about they might think I was responsible.’
This led to the next obvious question. ‘What were you arguing about?’
‘The thing is, if I tell you – that’s it! There’s no going back. It’s the red pill in the Matrix.’
Lottie wanted to punch him. ‘For fuck’s sake, you might find it entertaining to talk in riddles, but I don’t. What were you arguing about? Just tell me.’
‘When he fired me, it was ’cause he thought some Johnny foreigner was shagging his daughter. He told me to go and he paid me off.’
‘Yes, I already knew that bit.’ Lottie was impatient to get to the facts, and yet she suspected that, as he’d already warned, once she got there, she was going to want to turn and run.
‘Well, I was low on cash and I figured I’d go back for more money.’
‘So you were arguing about money.’ Lottie felt an enormous sense of relief. ‘Why didn’t you just say that? Why bring me here? It’s not a problem if you tried to get money out of him. I understand now what it’s like to be poor. Blimey, I thought—’
‘Stop, Lottie. Stop talking now and let me finish.’ Vincenzo looked sorry for her. ‘I came through the gap in the fence, just like we did today, and I crossed the bridge. I was hoping to find your dad. I wandered around the meadow, then I spotted him over the other side of the stream. I don’t know how he got there without us passing. Maybe we did pass, and I didn’t see him. It was misty and about to rain – you know how it is when the sky goes dark in the middle of the afternoon. Anyway, he just appeared standing over there.’ Vincenzo pointed at the muddy area over the other side of the stream. ‘I walked over to this spot, and I called to him.’
‘Did you use the accent?’
‘Yes. To begin with I pretended to be Chen. I asked him for more money. I
said if he paid me a decent lump sum, I’d stay away from you for good.’
‘Charming.’
‘But he said no. He wasn’t paying me another penny. He’d get the coppers onto me if I didn’t go away.’
‘Right. And then he slipped?’
Vincenzo said, ‘One last chance. You definitely want me to go on with the story?’
Lottie nodded.
‘I was angry. After everything him and that Arthur Delamont had done to us boys, they fucking owed us. I switched back to my normal voice and I said – Mr Thorogood, it’s me, it’s Vincenzo. Do you remember me? He was shocked. I knew he would be. He was squinting. I think it was raining by then, and it was probably difficult for him to see my face properly. But he knew it was me. His attitude changed. He said something like – hello there boy, I didn’t recognise you. Why the pretence?’
Lottie understood what Vincenzo had meant about the red pill. Something about the way he was telling the story had changed. He’d changed. She felt she was teetering on a precipice. ‘And what did you say?’
63
Hannah – 2019
On impulse, Hannah decided to involve the police. Grabbing her phone, she called Paul and explained, as briefly as possible, that she thought a young man might be about to be harmed. ‘We have to get to him before anything happens. I can’t have him die, and I most definitely can’t let Lottie kill him. She’s my best friend. We need to fix this.’
Paul took some persuading. He seemed convinced all would be okay. But Hannah was not prepared to let it go. She remembered how Dave had looked, standing by Dawn’s grave, a broken man. She had to get this right.
‘Paul, she’s under the impression he killed both her parents; she’s hardly going to be thinking straight.’
‘And did he?’
Swindled (The Sandlin PI Series Book 1) Page 22