Deception (14 page)

I’ve always been a bit short-sighted. I need glasses to see far, and I wear them usually when I’m at the theatre or cinema, but not usually the rest of the time, as I manage well enough without them. I do wear contact lenses, but I wasn’t wearing them that day because I’d thought I might go swimming and had been scared I’d lose them.

Like my mobile phone, I’d left my glasses behind in the hotel bedroom, still in my suitcase.

He said, “What’s she doing, do you think?”

I shaded my eyes and squinted in the direction where Max was pointing. I saw a plump looking woman, possibly around my height, although it was difficult to judge from a distance, wearing a long, billowing skirt or dress, so long it swept the sand, a quilted or padded jacket, and what looked like a black felt hat with a heavy veil covering most of her face. Everything she was wearing was black.

And she was holding a large vase.

I said, “She must be sweltering in this heat.”

Then, even as we watched, the woman suddenly dropped to her knees and raised the vase out, at arm’s length. I gasped, wondering if she’d fallen over, then realised she’d kneeled down deliberately. It looked like she was digging in the sand with her vase. An uncontrollable giggle escaped my lips. It was such a strange and funny sight.

“Weird,” Max muttered, shaking his head in disgust.

I felt bad then, and reined in my laughter. “Actually, I think that’s an urn she’s holding.”

“Maybe she’s got somebody’s ashes in there!”

“You’re probably right. So we shouldn’t be standing here gawping at the poor women then, should we?”

Though I tried to walk on, Max, though, appeared to be enjoying the spectacle and grabbed my hand. Reluctantly I was forced to stay where I was.

He said with obvious relish, “She’s probably come to the island especially to scatter her beloved’s ashes.”

I said, “But observe, Max, there’s no wind today to help blow them away.”

“Don’t be so pedantic about everything, Bailey. Actually, if you look closer, it looks like she’s trying to bury the contents of the urn now.”

I didn’t want to be a rubber-necker, but human nature being what it is, my curiosity got the better of me and I couldn’t help peering back at her. All I could see was a dark clothed figure on her hands and knees scrabbling pathetically around in the sand.

Turning away I said, “I thought bereaved relatives usually hire boats to do that sort of thing out at sea.”

Max looked down at me, tapped the side of his nose and tried to look wise.

“Maybe this particular stretch of beach holds a special memory for her,” he said. “Perhaps they came here once, many years ago, together, as a loving young couple. Maybe they even stayed here once at Pegasus, when it was still a family home, before it was decided to turn it into a hotel. It’s possible, isn’t it, seeing that ours is the only hotel for miles around. And she looks old enough to have been around back then. I mean, just look at her, those clothes, and
that hat and veil! Who wears stuff like that nowadays unless you’re related to Miss Haversham? Looks like it all came out of the dark ages. Or a charity shop. She’s got to be about a hundred years old, if not older.”

“That’s not a very gallant observation,” I chided. “Especially if she’s a paying guest at the hotel.”

But he wasn’t listening. He was off in his own fantasy.

“They probably decided there and then, in a sacred pact, that when one of them dies, they wanted to be cremated and their ashes to be scattered over the sands where they once walked together under the moon while on their honeymoon. It’s actually quite touching.”

Max gave a theatrical little sigh, but I wasn’t impressed.

“Well, supposing your theory’s correct, and is very likely is, what’s she doing is private and even more reason why we shouldn’t be standing here looking at her as if she’s providing us with a freak show. So come on, let’s please leave the poor woman in peace.”

I tugged at his arm, trying to pull him away. He merely raised an eyebrow at my futile attempts to budge him.

He said, “She doesn’t know we’re watching. You can see she’s got her mind on other things.”

I gazed up at him, fuming. “That’s hardly the point.”

“We’re too far away to invade her privacy. Besides which, we’re not really watching her, are we? We’re merely gazing towards the hotel at the top of the cliff because that’s where we’re headed, and it just so happens that she’s fallen into our line of sight. Is it our fault if someone decides to perform some sort of ceremonial ritual in the middle of the afternoon on a public beach?”

Still, despite his protests, I managed to drag Max towards the path that had been chiselled out through the cliffs.

The climb back up the steps seemed to take forever, but once back at the hotel, I left him in the foyer to go find his mother or get a drink from the bar, whichever came first, and I went up to my room for a quick shower and rest before dinner. It was getting late, and I wanted to look my best when I met up with my father again, and we had our show down. Which, whether I liked it or not, was what was probably in store.

But despite my apprehension about the forthcoming meeting, I found myself singing as I bathed, and I realised it was because I’d really enjoyed being in Max’s company. He was actually great fun to be with, once he got over himself and stopped being such a prat. And I liked him. Liked his openness, and his honesty.

I finished up in the bathroom. Then, enveloped in a large, fluffy white towel, with my wet and newly shampooed hair wrapped in an elaborate turban, I wandered back into the bedroom. The afternoon sunshine was still streaming in through the balcony windows, and the room was still warm. I padded over to the bedside table and glanced at my mobile phone. I know there are people who can’t stand to go anywhere without being attached to their phone, but I like to think I can survive a whole day without the constant need to be in touch with other people, or to use internet, or to email, call or text.

The flashing light showed me I had another two missed calls. Both from Ari. He’d also left me another voice message:

“Bailey, this is Ari. Where are you? Please phone me back as soon as you get this message. It’s urgent.”

Wow, he was eager, I thought, and I couldn’t help be but a little thrilled at the idea that I’d generated such an interest in the man. So, sitting on the edge of the bed, I unwrapped the turban and let the damp towel fall to the bed. After a moment or two, I heard Ari’s voice in my ear. I rolled onto my stomach and smiled.

“Bailey. Oh, thank God. I thought something had happened to you.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. The sun had bleached it even whiter. A whiter shade of pale.

I spoke. “No, I’m fine, Ari. I’ve just been out and about, you know how it is on your first day of vacation. That’s why I didn’t-”

“It’s Freddie,” he cut in. “Freddie Gillette.”

At his name I sat bolt upright and once again I felt that strange sense of unease which I’d experienced the previous evening as I’d stood on the balcony gazing out to sea.

Now a new dread coursed through me. It was almost as if I had been expecting something awful, and for a moment I didn’t say anything.

“Bailey? You still there?”

“I’m still here, Ari.” I paused, and said uncertainly, “What about Freddie?”

I heard Ari clear his throat, and it seemed to me as if he found what he was about to say difficult.

He said slowly, “He’s in hospital, Bailey. He’s been attacked. He was knifed.”

Chapter 13

I clutched the phone tighter. “Oh my God. What happened? Is he all right?”

“He’ll live.”

There was a dryness to his response, and it seemed to me there was something more in Ari’s voice, something he wasn’t telling me.

Because of the shocking news, it didn’t occur to me straightaway to wonder how it was that Ari came to be the bearer of such bad tidings. All I knew is that my erstwhile lover had been knifed, was in hospital, but had thankfully survived. I sat up even straighter and stared out across the room. I found my lips were parched, and I reached across to grab at a bottle of water I’d brought up with me from the kitchen.

I drank then said, trying to talk calmly, “Does he know who attacked him?”

“Kristie Gillingham. Or, rather should I say, Christine Gillette.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard right.

I said in bewilderment, “Kristie? Kristie knifed him? But she adores him, that much was obvious. Why would she do such a thing? No, you must have got it wrong. I’m sorry, Ari, but this doesn’t make any sense.” I paused. “And why did you say her name’s Christine Gillette?”

“They’re related. She’s his niece. She called herself Kristie when she went to work at your company.”

My voice came out as just a whisper when I spoke again. “How do you know all this?”

“Because I make it my business to find out things, Bailey. Do you want to hear all of it?

I gritted my teeth. “Go on.”

“So, it turns out Uncle Frederick’s always had a penchant for pretty girls, particularly pretty little girls, and had an affair with his adoring young niece years ago, when she was barely sixteen. At seventeen years old she aborted the baby she was carrying, which was his, of course, simply because he didn’t want it and because he told her to. That shows you the type of balance there was between them. Anyway, apparently the relationship carried on for a while but soon Freddie, grown tired of the girl and despising her puppy-like and absolute devotion, told her to pack her bags and get lost. He was merciless. He told her he didn’t care what happened to her. Apparently, what happened to Christine was that she ended up in a mental institution.” Ari snorted. “Seems the guy has a despicable habit of telling the women in his life to get lost, once he’s through with them, of course.”

I wet my lips. “You’re well informed. Did Freddie tell you this?”

“Yeah, I’ve been with him most of the day.” He paused. “I was the one who found him.” I heard him sigh. “It’s been a long day, Bailey. Believe me. But once he started talking and confessing his sins, it seemed like he’d never stop.”

“Please, tell me everything.” I hesitated. “And you sure he’s going to be OK?”

“No major organs were hit. He’s going to sport a few scars on his abdomen, and as long as he doesn’t catch any infection I guess he’ll heal in time. Physically, anyway.” He paused. “Is that what matters to you most? That your old boyfriend’s going to be okay? Not that he’s turned out to be the sort of person I’ve just described?”

“Ari, please.” I was almost crying.

“Sorry.” He took a ragged breath. He sounded like he was hurting. “It’s only natural you would be concerned about the guy, I suppose. You were living with him long enough, you knew him – or thought you knew him. You loved him. You expected to marry him, maybe. You can’t be expected to turn off all your feelings and emotions just like that.”

“Ari, I told you before, and I meant it, it’s all over with Freddie.” I paused. “I think it was over even while we were still together, I just didn’t know it. Guess I was just deceiving myself.”

“Whatever.”

I could picture him shrugging, but let it pass. I would deal with Ari’s sensitive issues later. For the time being I was more concerned about what led to the attack.

“Tell me everything. What happened? From the beginning,” I begged.

I heard him take a deep breath. He sounded dog tired and I felt a bit guilty pressing him, but I needed to know.

He said, “It was last night, must’ve been about ten, ten thirty, something like that. I’d just dropped off a fare and I was on my way home when I decided to go the long way round which would take me round by his flat. I thought in the back of my mind I’d like to try and get your portrait back for you.”

“Really?” I’d spoken involuntarily; I was so touched by the thought, and I heard the smile in his voice when he answered.

“Yes, Bailey. Really. I was thinking about you as I was driving along.”

I blushed, and didn’t say anything.

He went on. “Anyway, I saw that the curtains were open and the lights were still on. I reckoned he was still awake, so I thought I’d just knock and tell him I’d come on your behalf for the painting. I didn’t consider if he’d be alone, or have company, or even whether Kristie was still there or not, but I reckoned enough time had passed for things to calm down somewhat. Anyway, even as I rang the front door bell I realised the door to the flat was ajar. I called out, but there was no reply. So I pushed at the door but it was wedged tights, something was stopping it from opening any further. Being a strong guy and curious as hell I heaved a bit more and managed to get my head round the door.”

He paused, though whether out of respect for my feelings or because he was recalling the scene in his mind again I didn’t know. But he resumed a moment later.

“I saw Gillette on the floor of the hallway. He was lying in a pool of blood. His shirt was covered in it. He was so white I thought at first he was dead. He’d obviously lost a lot of blood and I had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. Anyway, I called the police and an ambulance, and went with him to the hospital. I said I was a mate of his.”

“That was good of you.”

“Seemed the least I could do.” He paused. “There’ve been a lot of questions asked, obviously, once he regained consciousness. It quickly emerged that it was Kristie who stabbed him. She went right up to him and stuck a knife into his stomach. They’re still looking for the weapon, though she probably got rid of it after she legged it, leaving him to bleed to death. Obviously the cops are still looking for her.”

I was quiet for a moment. Then I said dully, “This is all my fault.”

“How is it your fault if in a frenzy of rage Kristie tries to kill her uncle?”

“If I hadn’t gone back to the flat…if I hadn’t provoked her the way I did, Kristie…Christine…”

“She was always going to be a loose cannon. A girl so besotted with another person couldn’t ever think straight.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My throat had dried up.

Ari said, “I’ve not long been back from the hospital. I needed a shower and change of clothes and something to eat. I’ve been at his bedside more or less ever since he regained consciousness, keeping the poor sod company while he rambled on and on, telling me his whole life story, explaining how bad genes always ran in his family, which is his reason for saying why he never wanted kids. How he still hopes to be a great painter and nothing else must stand in the way of his art. He almost had me puking at that. Frankly, the guy is one of the most selfish and self-centred people I’ve met in a long while. Believe me, it wasn’t easy listening to him going on and on about how none of this was his fault.”

“I’m sorry you had to be put through all that.”

“Not your fault. Besides, in a way, despite everything he told me, I actually felt a bit sorry for the guy. He just looked so pathetic lying there, blubbing into his pillow. It doesn’t seem like he’s got anyone else who cares, no next of kin when the hospital staff asked if he wanted them to contact anyone for him, not even any friends. He didn’t even give your name. He just wanted me there with him, a total stranger.”

“Well, I’m glad he trusted you enough to open up to you.”

“Let’s face it; the only living relative he’s got left in the world just stabbed him in the guts in an effort to kill him, proving that indeed lunacy seems to run in his family. Madness, indeed, when you consider how obsessed she is over him. She must be completely off her trolley this time.”

“But resourceful, too, wouldn’t you say?”

“I guess.”

“Did Freddie say anything about what happened to her after she left the institution?”

“Oh, sure. Apparently it took Christine a while to get herself back together again, but let’s not forget she had given herself a purpose that took up all her time and pretty much all of her brain. He was always going to be the most important person on the planet, as far as she was concerned. She was totally absorbed by him and with him. Anyone who got between her and Uncle Fred was bound to get the worst of it. Having duped all the medics around her that she was well and fit again and ready for life as we know it, she found herself a bolt hole. As you said, she was resourceful and a quick learner. Just a shame that someone with brains couldn’t put them to better use. Anyway, eventually she managed to trace the whereabouts of her uncle, only to find he was shacked up again with a new woman, with seemingly a much more stable background than her own. So, in order to get closer to her quarry and inveigle herself back into his life once more, crazy Kristie decided it was necessary for her to make friends with the new girlfriend. That girlfriend being you, of course.”

I said, “She sent me a text.”

I heard the alarm in his voice.

“What? When?”

I stared out of the window as a huge bird suddenly flew past the balcony, screeching after its prey.

“Bailey?”

I said, “Late last night. I thought it was a text from Freddie, it was sent from his cell number. I thought it was odd even then that he should text me, but now, of course, I understand. It couldn’t have been him as he was in hospital unconscious. So it was Kristie…Christine. It was her.”

“She stole his phone.”

I swallowed. “She’s sick.”

“That’s for sure. Freddie’s wallet was missing, along with some other personal items, so we can only assume she stole other stuff from the flat, too. Cash, that sort of thing, maybe. She took the phone because she wanted the info on it and all his contact numbers.”

“We were friends once,” I reminded him. “She already knew my mobile number.”

“Would you have replied to her if she’d texted you as herself? Would you have told her where you were if you’d known it was her?”

“I think Kristie just needed confirmation. She already knew my whereabouts from my sister-in-law, Miranda, who’d unwittingly told her thinking it was someone calling from my old firm’s HR department.” I stopped, braced myself, and asked, “What shall I do if she calls again, Ari?”

He said, his tone soothing, “Mobile phones can be traced, Bailey.”

“But she doesn’t have to use the same phone again. She could even have dumped it by now, having already got what she wants.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “And what do you think she’s planning to do with that information?”

I shuddered slightly. “I have no idea. I can’t see into a mind as warped as Kristie’s.”

“But you fear…?”

“I fear that if she can attack Freddie then she certainly believes she can try the same thing on me.”

“So what are you waiting for? Get out of there.”

“And go where? Where would you have me run to?”

“There’s always me.”

I shrugged, and wrapped the towel tighter around me, though it was damp against my skin where it touched. I added defiantly, “I’m going nowhere until I have what I came for.”

“You don’t have to act brave and tough all the time, Bailey.”

“You don’t think so? I’ve been doing it for most of my life.”

“Then it’s best to prepare yourself for the worst.”

“Your advice being?

“Tell the police. And watch your back.”