by H. Y. Hanna
Albert’s eyes cleared and he refocused suddenly back on me. “That’s when I realised who Lara was. It was the same tattoo, in exactly the same place… and I thought: how strange that we should both end up on the same talent show, so many years later. It must be Fate—it was meant to be! That’s how I knew I had to kill her. This was my chance, you see—my chance to make her pay.” He looked at me with a blank smile and said, as if discussing the weather, “Do you know my dad left us on Christmas Day? Mum was serving lunch and he just got up and left. I don’t remember much from my childhood but I remember that day like it was yesterday.”
I stared at him, at those empty eyes and smiling face, as his calm, pleasant voice recounted that heart-breaking story, and thought: Oh my God, he’s completely mad.
“And then I realised that I had the perfect weapon,” Albert continued, his face lighting up. “The liquid nitrogen! I’d brought it for my act without realising how easy it would be to kill someone with it. You see? Fate again. So I planned it for the night of the Semi-Finals performances. I knew things would be chaotic backstage and nobody would notice anything much. And besides, I would be on stage so I’d have the perfect alibi…” He paused and frowned. “I didn’t plan for her body to be discovered so soon. You were unexpected. But anyway, it didn’t matter in the end. Although, of course, now you know too much so that’s why I have to kill you too.”
My heart gave a jolt at his calm words and matter-of-fact manner. It was actually scarier than if he had been snarling and violent. He was looking at me like a fishmonger eyeing a trout, trying to decide which section to fillet first.
“Uh… d-did you really hear voices here or did you make that up?” I babbled, just to keep him talking.
He laughed again. “Oh, I made that all up. I knew you probably wouldn’t come down here otherwise and I needed to get you alone. See, I’d been wondering how to kill you ever since I heard you talking to the police officer on the coach. I knew I had to silence you before you started putting too many things together. Then you just walked right up to me and gave me the perfect opportunity! It’s Fate again, see? It’s meant to be.”
Oh no, it bloody well isn’t, I thought grimly. And I lunged to the side to try and get around him.
But he was ready for me. His hands snaked out and grabbed me, then shoved me hard. I screamed as I reeled backwards, my feet slipping on the edge of the pier.
And then I was falling…
I smacked into the black water and plunged into the icy depths.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It was cold… so cold…
And there was icy water in my mouth… in my nose… in my eyes…
I thrashed—kicking, clawing, flailing—as I struggled my way back to the surface…
I burst out of the water, coughing and gasping for a breath.
The icy water sloshed around me. I was so cold I was shaking violently, my teeth chattering like a rattle. I knew I had to get out of the water—at this temperature, hypothermia could set in in minutes, and then I would sink and drown.
I kicked weakly, treading water, as I looked around me: I had fallen into the narrow channel between the yacht and the pier. I reached out for something to pull myself out of the water. My hands met the smooth hull of the yacht on one side, my fingers slipping uselessly against the sleek metal. I turned and groped desperately on the other side, hoping to find a handhold on the side of the pier. But before I could reach it, something came down on me, shoving me back underwater.
It was a hand. Two hands. It was Albert bending over the side of the pier, his face determined as he held me cruelly down. In spite of his weedy physique, there was frightening strength in his arms. I choked and spluttered as water surged once more over my head. Panic gave me strength and I fought, wriggling and flailing wildly. I managed to pull free for a moment to burst once more out of the water.
“N-n-no-o-o….!” I screamed. “Sto…stop! H-help! H-h-hel… h-help… m-me!”
But my voice was drowned out by gurgling and choking as Albert grabbed me once more and pushed me underwater. Icy water rushed into my nose and mouth. I gulped and choked as it churned and foamed around me. I tried to fight back, but I was already beginning to weaken. My limbs felt like lead. It was a struggle even moving them in the heavy water.
Then I felt the pressure on my head ease slightly and I drew on the last of my strength to claw my way back up and burst out of the water once more. Above me, Albert had turned to look over his shoulder, distracted, and then my heart leapt as I heard the sound of barking, followed by Trish’s voice.
“Hey! What’s going on he—Gemma! Oh my God, what are you doing to her?”
There was more barking… the stampede of running feet on the wooden pier… an exclamation bitten off… and then the sounds of a tussle.
I looked up to see Trish struggling with Albert while the collie circled around them, barking frantically.
“Albert! What… what the hell is wrong with you?” demanded Trish as she grappled with him.
“It’s no use fighting—you’re not going to win,” said Albert, still in that eerily calm voice even though he was panting with effort. “I’ve got Fate on my side… Everything will work out because it’s meant to be… I can drown you too and nobody will know—”
“What?” Trish stared at him incredulously but had no chance to say more as Albert’s hand suddenly went for her throat.
They reeled on the pier above me, grunting and cursing, then to my horror, Albert aimed a vicious kick at Trish’s shins which caused her to double over in pain. He took advantage of that to give her a hard shove, sending her staggering over the edge of the pier and down into the water next to me.
SPLASH!
The impact caused water to surge over me once more and I fought feebly to stay afloat. The last of my strength was almost gone. I could feel myself sinking deeper into the cold water, but somehow I didn’t care anymore. Everything was beginning to feel pleasantly numb… in fact, I could no longer feel the cold—instead, I felt weak and drowsy… It would be so easy to just close my eyes for a second… I thought, I’m so tired…
The sound of frantic barking roused me again and I opened my eyes with an effort. Skip was running up and down the pier, whining and barking and looking into the water. Trish! I thought suddenly. The black water beside me was empty. Oh my God—where is she?
Then I remembered that unlike me, Trish had been wearing her overcoat. It might have kept her warm on land but, once in the water, the heavy sodden fabric would have dragged her down like a lead weight.
“Tr-Trish?” I choked, peering desperately at the surface of the water, hoping for a sign of life.
Above me, Albert was leaning over the edge of the pier, peering as well. He smiled in satisfaction as the surface of the water remained unbroken. Then he turned towards me, his face determined once more.
“N-no… no…” I gasped, kicking weakly to try and move away from the edge of the pier.
He bent down farther and stretched for me. “It’s no use,” he said, almost kindly. “You can’t get away.”
Then something exploded out of the water next to us. It was Trish, looking like a creature from the Greek myths, her wet hair streaming from her head, her eyes wild, and her teeth bared as she surged upwards and grabbed Albert around the neck, yanking him down into the water with her.
He gave a cry of alarm and scrabbled frantically, trying to pull himself back. But he had been bending too far forwards as he stretched for me, and now his weight tipped him over. I heard a thunk and a sickening crunch as his head hit the side of the yacht, then he pitched forwards and fell into the water.
Another splash. Another swell which threatened to submerge me. I gasped and choked again, more out of reflex than anything else, since I no longer had the strength to even paddle weakly. I felt the water come up to my chin… then my mouth… my nose…
“GEMMA!”
Strong hands grabbed me and hauled me back up to t
he surface. I coughed and spluttered again. Trish was next to me, looking more like her old self now and less like some predatory nymph from the deep. She was holding me up with one hand and treading water with the other, kicking strongly to keep both of us afloat.
“Gemma—you’ve got to stay awake. Do you hear me?” She gave me a shake, splashing water in my face. “Come on, kick! Keep kicking!”
It was a commanding voice. A dog trainer’s voice. And ridiculous as it seemed, I felt myself responding, reaching for the last ounce of strength to follow her instructions. As I began to kick feebly, Trish turned her attention to the pier where Skip stood, looking down at us.
“Skip—go fetch! Fetch the rope! Good boy—go fetch!” She pointed at a thick bundle of rope that lay coiled at the end of the pier.
The collie cocked his head and looked at her quizzically for a moment, then he wagged his tail and trotted over to the rope. It was thick and heavy, but he got it between his teeth and dragged the end towards us.
“Good boy! Bring it here…” Trish held a hand out.
A minute later, she had the end of the rope in her hands. She turned to me and said urgently:
“Listen, Gemma, I’ll have to let go of you because I need both hands to pull myself up. It’ll just be for a minute and as soon as I’m up, I’ll pull you out. But you need to keep yourself afloat, d’you hear me? You have to keep swimming!”
I nodded weakly and moved my arms and legs through the water. It was less a dog paddle and more a drowning rat crawl now, but at least it was keeping me at the surface. Trish coiled the rope around her wrists a few times, before gripping it strongly with both hands, then she turned to Skip, still waiting on the pier above us, and called:
“Tug, Skip! Good boy, tug!”
The collie grabbed the other end of the rope and began to pull, growling as he backed away from the edge of the pier. Trish braced her body against the side of the pier and hauled herself out of the water, shouting commands and encouragement to her dog the whole time. A minute later, she crawled, panting and dripping, over the edge of the pier and stood up shakily. Skip pranced joyously around her, jumping up and wagging his tail madly. She gave him a pat, then quickly turned and bent down, holding her hand out to me.
“Grab my hand, Gemma!”
I stretched up, but my fingers could barely touch the tips of hers, and I didn’t have the strength to surge out of the water. Trish lay down on her stomach and tried again. This time, she caught hold of my hand and I clung on for dear life as she pulled me slowly out of the water. My arms felt as if they were being wrenched from their sockets but I gritted my teeth and held on.
Inch by inch, I was hauled, dripping, out of the icy water, until finally I lay gasping and shivering on the edge of the pier. The wooden planks of the walkway pressed into my cheek and I’d never been so glad to feel a hard surface against my skin. Then I felt Trish draping something soft and warm on me. It was an old rug that she had unearthed from a corner of the boathouse, rough and dusty, but at that moment, more glorious than any fur coat as I shivered and clutched it to me.
“Th-th-thank y-you,” I said, my teeth still chattering.
Trish slumped down next to me, wrapped in a similar rug, and gave me a weary smile as she patted Skip, who was trying to climb into her lap.
“Al-Albert? Is… is he…?” I looked fearfully towards the water.
“He didn’t come back up.”
“D-do you th-think we should try t-to—”
“Well, I’m not going back in,” said Trish shortly. “So unless you want to dive back in the freezing water—for God’s sake, Gemma, the man was trying to kill you! Why do you even care?” She looked at me quizzically. “Anyway, why was he going for you?”
“H-h-he wanted to silence m-me because I knew t-too m-much. H-he was the one who m-murdered Lara.”
Trish’s eyes widened. “Really? But why?”
I sighed. “It’s a long story. I suppose you c-could say it was revenge… or m-m-madness…” Then I looked at her in admiration. “Oh my God, Trish—I thought he was going to kill us both! I d-don’t know how you did it… the way you fought him… and… and the way you ambushed him from the water… th-that was incredible!”
She shrugged. “I knew he was expecting me to come up so I just held my breath and stayed under for longer.”
“But wasn’t it cold? Weren’t you p-panicking? I couldn’t even think straight when I fell in—it was such a sh-shock. I was just terrified and thrashing around.”
She shrugged again. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about all that—I was just thinking about beating him.” She looked up at me, her expression guileless. “He said I wasn’t going to win… I hate it when people say that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Are you the girl who found the body?”
Bloody hell. Not this again. I looked up wearily from the stack of menus I was holding and regarded the young couple standing in front of me. For a moment, I felt as if I had jumped back in time and the events of the past week had never happened. Then I reminded myself that Lara’s murder had been solved, the talent show was over, and life was back to its normal routine.
Well, almost normal, I thought, looking at the couple again. The gossip and salacious curiosity hadn’t died down yet, and I was still getting daily visitors to the tearoom who came more to gawp at me and ask nosy questions, than to sample the excellent baking.
Still, as long as they stay and order food and drink, that’s all that matters, I told myself. So I forced a smile to my face and said:
“Yes, I am. Now, would you like—”
“And the killer tried to drown you, didn’t he?”
I gritted my teeth. “Yes, that’s right… So, which table would you—”
“Were you naked?”
“I—what?”
“When he tried to drown you, were you naked?”
“No! No, of course I wasn’t naked! Where on earth did you get that from?”
“See, I told you,” the girl said to the boy. “Dave was lying.”
“Look, are you going to have some tea or not?” I said, losing patience.
“Oh.” They shifted uncomfortably. “Um… actually, we’ve got to catch the bus back to Oxford. Sorry, another time!”
The tearoom door slammed after them, leaving me at the counter taking deep breaths and counting to ten. Cassie returned from serving a table and grinned as she saw my expression.
“Still enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame, huh?”
“If someone else asks me if I was the girl who found the body, there are going to be a lot more dead bodies!” I growled.
Before Cassie could reply, the door opened again, but this time I was pleased to see a serious-looking young man with thick-rimmed glasses and a shy smile enter the tearoom.
“Seth!” I said, smiling. “This is a nice surprise.”
He returned my smile. “I had a morning free so I thought I’d make a trip out to my favourite tearoom in the Cotswolds. Also, I’ve got extra tickets to the new production at the Oxford Playhouse. It’s for next Saturday… I was wondering if you two would like to go?” he said, his gaze going hopefully to Cassie.
“Oh, shame—I’d have loved to, Seth, but I’ve already promised my mum that I’d go to Bath with her,” said Cassie.
He deflated visibly but tried to keep the smile on his face as he turned to me. “Gemma?”
“I’m going to have to say no too, Seth,” I said apologetically. “Devlin and I have got dinner plans. With this latest case wrapped up, I need to grab the chance before he gets sucked into a new one!”
“Oh.” Seth looked crestfallen. “Well, I suppose I could ask the other tutors at the college…”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Cassie. “I’m sure Barb would like to see the play. Why don’t you ask her?”
“Barb?” Seth looked confused.
“She’s the receptionist at the dance studio where I teach part-time. Pretty b
londe girl; very bubbly and easy to talk to. I’m sure you’d like her, Seth. You can’t just hang out with boring old me and Gemma all the time, you know—you need to go out on real dates,” said Cassie with a grin.
Seth looked pained and I knew he was chagrined that Cassie obviously didn’t consider herself a candidate for a “real date”.
“Er… th-that’s okay,” he said hurriedly. “I’ve got a couple of research students at the lab who said they’d be interested, if nobody else wanted the tickets. Um… so—is everything wrapped up on the case, Gemma?” He turned to me, obviously keen to change the subject.
“Yes, pretty much. I mean, there will be a trial, of course, but since Albert is dead—”
“Oh, did they find his body?”
“Yeah, they dredged the bottom of the lake underneath the boathouse.” I sighed. “The whole thing is so tragic, really. I mean, I know he was a murderer—and he was planning to kill me and Trish too—but still, I can’t help feeling sorry for Albert.”