As they parked in the hospital car park, Lottie could already smell the sea air.
‘Got any change?’ Hannah was scrabbling around in the change pot she kept in her glove box.
‘Umm … hang on a sec.’ Lottie checked her purse. ‘One pound coin and a couple of twenty pence pieces. Any good to you?’
Hannah took the money. ‘Yeah, that’ll do it. I’m not paying for more than an hour. It’s either him or it isn’t, and it won’t take anything like sixty minutes to work it out.’
Lottie’s stomach lurched. ‘I can’t believe we’re doing this. What the hell am I going to say to him?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that. We’ll tell the staff you’re his stepdaughter, which is true. When we get in there, you can ask him if he remembers you. We’ll be able to tell if he’s lying, no sweat. Then, I reckon you just outright tell him that he swindled you and you want what’s rightfully yours.’
‘Well, that all sounds easy!’
‘Don’t panic about it. I’ll be there with you.’
‘Thank goodness.’
‘Right.’ Hannah walked over to the pay and display and bought her ticket. Placing it inside the windscreen, she slammed the door, blipped the car shut and set off towards the main entrance at a pace. ‘Come on, keep up, leggy – let’s do this. Let’s get you some money!’
‘Oh bugger. I think I need a wee.’
Hannah waited for her friend to catch up. ‘Of course you do. We’ll stop on the way.’
By the time they’d found the toilets and walked over to the A&E department, Lottie couldn’t decide whether she wanted it to be Vincent or not. She figured maybe it was now or never. If it was him, at least she’d be confronting him in a safe place, and she would most definitely have the element of surprise! But in all likelihood, it wasn’t going to be him at all, meaning this gut-wrenching anxiety would instantly go away, and they could just get the butties and hang out at the seaside for the day. Right now, a noneventful day out sounded like the best choice by far.
Allowing Hannah to do all the talking, Lottie waited a few steps behind, avidly listening to every word the A&E receptionist uttered. ‘Oh, so you know him, do you? They were wondering who he belonged to. He was moved late last night. Once they decide to keep a patient in, they don’t stay here. Now, let me just check.’ She tapped away at her keyboard. ‘They took him to Kenton Ward. It’s mostly for neurology patients.’
‘That’s great news.’ Hannah turned to Lottie. ‘It’s going to be lovely to see your stepdad, isn’t it?’
Lottie nodded, dumbly. Yes, rather like contracting Ebola!
They rode up to the second floor in the lift. If Lottie closed her eyes, she could see Vincent’s face: his unpleasant expressions; the snide glances he’d given her in the early days when he’d been drinking tea in the drawing room; the belittling look he’d had on his face that day by the fire circle, when she’d so stupidly tried to trick him; and the total disregard he’d shown towards her on his wedding day. He’d clearly known even then that he’d won. Lastly, she pictured him at her mum’s funeral, she’d been out of her mind with grief and shock, and Vincent’s expression had remained totally emotionless throughout the short service. ‘Han, I need another wee.’
‘No, you don’t. You just think you do. Because you’re nervous.’
‘I just feel like …’ Lottie clenched her fists.
‘I know. But, like I said, I’m here. Okay? Come on. Death or glory!’
Despite the rising sickness in her stomach, Lottie laughed. ‘Hopefully not death. There’s been quite enough of that!’
Kenton Ward had a locked door. A sign stated that visitors should press the buzzer.
‘You do it … please?’ Lottie begged.
Hannah did as she was asked and awaited a response.
‘Kenton Ward.’
‘Hi, we’re here to see my friend’s stepdad.’
‘Patient’s name?’
‘Vin … well, it’s a bit complicated.’
‘Is the patient on this ward?’
‘Yes. But …’
‘Then, can I take the patient’s name?’ The disembodied voice appeared to be already losing patience.
‘He might not know his name. He has a head injury.’ Hannah glanced at Lottie. The tension was almost unbearable.
‘The amnesia patient?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is your stepdad?’
‘Yes. Well, my friend’s.’
‘What did you say his name was?’
‘Vin … cent.’ Hannah winced as she tentatively said the name. Hoping she wasn’t going to be asked for his surname. Who knew what that could be by now?
‘I think you have the wrong person. The amnesia patient we had here was called Trevor. He remembered his identity this morning. And anyway he’s—’
‘Are you sure? I mean, that his name was actually Trevor? The description we heard sounded so much like my friend’s stepdad.’
After a brief delay, the door was snatched open from the inside and a terrifying woman appeared in the doorway. ‘I’m as sure as I can be. He said he’d remembered who he was, the doctor confirmed he didn’t appear to be suffering from concussion any longer, and, as I was trying to tell you when you interrupted me, he discharged himself. I’m hardly going to say – hey there, excuse me, before you go, can I check, is your name really Trevor? Am I?’
‘I suppose not. Thank you so much for your help.’ Hannah replied.
The woman gave a curt nod. ‘You’re very welcome.’ The conversation had descended into sarcasm.
‘Can I just ask something, please?’ Lottie put her hand up, before remembering she was no longer twelve, and this woman wasn’t her head teacher.
‘Yes. If you’re quick.’
‘When did he leave?’
‘About ten minutes ago. You’ve just missed him. But I fail to see what that has to do with the situation, because, as we have already established, he is not your stepdad.’
‘Right.’ Lottie felt herself shrinking under the woman’s stony gaze.
‘Come on, let’s head back to the car.’ Hannah turned away from the woman, mouthing the words, ‘so rude’ to Lottie.
On the way down in the lift, Hannah said, ‘Well, she needs a refund from that charm school she went to!’
‘Yes, she does. She was horrible,’ Lottie agreed, before asking, ‘So, Miss Marple, what now?’
‘That depends. Do you believe her?’
‘Which part?’
‘The bit about the amnesiac being called Trevor.’
‘I’m not sure. I guess he could be.’
‘Lottie, wise up, he was an Italian-looking man with a slight accent and expensive shoes, probably with little lifts in them. Does that or does that not sound like Vincent?’
‘Yes, it does. But it sounds like lots of other people too.’
‘It sounds more like Vincent than anyone else. And, if you were him, and you just happened to find yourself in Lynton Haven, where would you go?’
They reached the car park as Lottie replied, ‘I’d go to the Cristina.’
‘Yes, my beautiful friend, you would.’
‘So, we’re going to the marina?’
‘Yes, we are. We’re going on a stakeout.’ Hannah grinned.
‘Brilliant. I’m good at them!’ Lottie gave a thumbs up.
‘We’ll see if his yacht is still moored.’
‘And if it is?’
‘We will not take our eyes off it. No matter how long it takes.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. I am absolutely sure that amnesia patient was your short-arsed, low down, devious git of a stepdad, Vincent, and he will go to his yacht. We just have to be there waiting for him.’
‘Don’t we need disguises?’
‘Disguises! Such as?’
‘Erm … woolly hats, glasses …’
Hannah laughed. ‘We’re not auditioning for Where’s Wally. I think we’ll be fine as we are.�
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‘I think I need the toilet again.’
‘You flippin’ weak-bladdered woman.’
‘I can’t help it. It’s the suspense. How do we go for a wee on a stakeout?’
‘We’ll go in shifts. Like I say, between us we will have eyes on the Cristina for as long as it takes.’
‘Do you really think we’ll catch up with him?’
‘You heard that dreadful woman; he only left ten minutes before we got there. We can’t possibly fail.’
75
Hannah – 2019
‘How much longer do we have to sit here before he comes?’
‘Lottie, for God’s sake, it’s not even been an hour yet.’
‘I know, but I don’t think he’s coming.’
Hannah sighed. ‘I need a different assistant. Look at the suitcase; it’s just lying on the deck. Who’d leave that behind? He must be coming back. We just have to be—’
‘Patient! I know. You keep saying that.’
‘Because it’s true.’
‘But it’s getting chilly.’
‘No, it isn’t.
‘Well, I’m cold, even if you’re not. Where’s the sun gone?’
‘Go and get my old jacket from the boot of my car.’
‘Jesus, not that horrible black fleecy thing. It’s dreadful.’
Hannah laughed. ‘Suit yourself, princess.’
‘So … how much longer are we going to give him? I’m hungry too.’
‘Lottie, if you don’t want to end up in A&E suffering from a head injury, please do me a favour and shush.’
Lottie raised her eyebrows and mimed zipping her lips.
Ten minutes later the questions began again. ‘Do you really think he’s coming?’
‘For God’s sake, you are the shittest private investigator ever. Do you want to leave me to it?’
‘Yes. No. Yes.’
‘Which is it?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry, Han, it’s just a bit … dull. Is there no other way of doing this?’
‘You have zero patience! You go and get the bacon butties. That’ll entertain you for a while.’
‘I can’t just leave you here. It’s not fair.’ Even as Lottie was saying this, she was preparing to leave.
‘You can. I’ll be fine. If he comes, I’ll call you. Keep an eye on your phone. It’s not on silent, is it?’
Lottie checked. ‘It was, but it’s not now. Call me if you see him.’
‘Will do.’
‘You’re sure it’s okay for me to go?’
‘Yes. You’re not doing much good here anyway.’ Hannah pulled a twenty-pound note out of her jeans’ pocket. ‘Here. Get some coffee too; we could be a while.’
Lottie took the money. ‘Thank you. I’ll pay you back, I promise.’
‘I know you will.’ Hannah smiled.
‘Do you want an egg with your bacon?’
‘Yeah, and plenty of brown sauce.’
‘With egg?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh God, my mother would call you a philistine.’
‘That’s fine. I probably am one.’
‘So, bacon, egg and lots of brown sauce?’
‘Yes, please. Now piss off, you’re a nightmare.’
76
Vincent – 2019
After getting a change of clothes, the next thing on Vincent’s list was sorting out his yacht. When his memory had come back in full, he’d realised that not only were his suitcases still on the yacht, but he’d missed his appointment with the salesman, and therefore he still owned it.
He thought briefly that he might go round to Grosvenor and ask them to sort out the paperwork. It was Saturday, and admittedly that was possibly one of their busiest days, but surely it also meant they had extra staff on.
But something was holding him back. Just the thought of going to the Cristina was making sweat patches appear in his new crisp white shirt. Vincent didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but he wasn’t sweating because of the weather, which if anything had taken a turn for the worse, with large grey clouds appearing in the previously bright blue sky. No, Vincent was sweating because he was scared – more than scared, he was terrified. That blow to the head had hurt. He was bloody lucky it hadn’t done him more damage. He had no idea who could be waiting at the marina, watching for his return. In his heart he wanted so much to go back and see his yacht. To say a proper goodbye to the boat he had lovingly named after his favourite sister, even though she probably still hated him. Plus, he wouldn’t say no to the money he’d been promised from Grosvenor. But was it worth the risk?
Then he thought of the contents of the suitcases he’d left behind. The beautiful clothes, the finest toiletries – he could really use some deodorant right now – the soft leather shoes; all his stuff was expensive, but if he was honest, nothing was irreplaceable. Except … merda, the photographs of Nonna! Hidden in a side pocket of the smaller of the two cases were all his family photos. Every picture he owned of Nonna was in that case. Damn the bastard who’d hit him, damn him to hell! As much as the thought of leaving Nonna’s photographs for some stranger to find, and probably throw away, broke his heart, he knew he couldn’t gamble on retrieving them. He had one chance to get clean away, and he could not allow himself to be led by sentimentality.
Nothing was worth getting attacked for. The boat and all his possessions simply had to be sacrificed. Making his final decision, Vincent gazed towards the direction of the marina, and silently bid farewell to the Cristina from afar.
77
Lottie – 2019
Lottie ordered the butties and two lattes. She liked this café; it was a few streets away from the more touristy areas, so usually not too busy. Having said that, she’d never been here on a Saturday before, and today there were families at almost every table.
‘Take a seat. I’ll give you a shout when they’re ready. I’ve just put some more bacon on.’
‘Thanks. Don’t forget the brown sauce on one, will you?’
‘Never.’ The young girl at the counter smiled.
Lottie looked around for somewhere to sit. By chance, a couple were just getting up from a window table. She jumped into one of their still-warm seats, and watched the world go by. Every short, dark-haired man who passed the window made her heart beat faster. But it was never him. It was strange; she still hated him, she still wished with all her heart that she had stopped the tea parties as soon as they had begun, but something had changed.
Now that she knew the truth about her parents’ deaths, she felt as if a huge breath she’d been holding in had finally escaped. For so long she’d thought that Vincent had hurt her dad, and her mum, come to think of it. She’d explored every possibility in her mind. And yet, in the end, when the facts had been laid bare for her, she’d come to see that Douglas had died because he was a cruel, sadistic creature. He’d been scared that day, scared of what Chen was going to make public, and that was why he’d approached him. Or maybe it was just an accident after all. Maybe he would’ve slipped on that rock even if he’d been the nicest man alive. There was no way of knowing.
As for her mum, Lottie now believed that her death had indeed been her own decision. All the time she couldn’t work out how Vincent had manipulated the situation and made it happen, but no, apparently he’d just been in the right place at the right time. He was a despicable, selfish man, and disgustingly ruthless when it came to money, but he had not killed her parents. In some small way, that made her hate him just a little less. The world was still a scary place, but in a different way. Lottie found it strange to think that villains came in all guises, not just the obvious ones.
Her phone rang. It wasn’t Hannah, but Chen. They’d not spoken since he dropped her off after they’d been to the meadow the night before. Should she answer? What was there left to say? She dawdled too long, and her phone went to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message. Lottie looked around the café at all the normal children on holiday with their normal look
ing parents. Lucky kids! But, come to think of it, hadn’t her parents looked normal too?
Her phone rang again. Chen was determined to speak to her in person.
On a whim, she answered this time, ‘Hello, baby.’
He laughed. ‘Well, that answers my question.’
‘Which is?’
‘Are we okay? Are you angry at me?’
‘Yes, we’re okay. I’m not angry at you, no.’ She really meant it.
‘I’ve been worried about you. What I told you … it was pretty tough going.’
‘You’re not wrong.’
‘I never wanted to hurt you, Lottie.’
‘I know.’
‘So, where are you? What are you up to?’
‘Oh God, Chen, it’s madness. My friend and I are trying to track down my bastard stepdad. We’re in Lynton Haven.’
‘What friend? That bloody interrogator?’
Lottie laughed. ‘Yes, the interrogator. She’s actually great fun when she puts her thumb screws away.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. So, why Lynton Haven?’
‘To be honest, it’s such a complicated story, I’m not sure I have the energy to tell you.’
‘Oh.’ He sounded disappointed.
‘No offence. I don’t mean anything against you, it’s just bloody complicated.’
‘Do you fancy telling me over a drink some time?’
Swindled (The Sandlin PI Series Book 1) Page 26