Double Take (32 page)

She dashed out the back door and down the internal steps to the garage. Her heels hampered her speed, but there was no way she'd take them off. For the first time since she built the chalet, Tiffany appreciated how far the garage was from the house; she'd had many arguments with the architect over the distance. Jack and Steel wouldn't be able to hear the garage door go up, or the car starting.

She knew all four of the highly polished cars would be full of petrol and ready to go. For no reason other than it was the most expensive, she chose the soft top, ruby red Mercedes and slipped in behind the wheel. Once the garage door was up she keyed the engine, pushed Ruby into gear, and jammed her foot on the accelerator.

The car responded beautifully, and as she drove past the chalet that she'd personally designed herself, she wondered if she was seeing it for the last time.

S
teel surveyed the room. Gaudy trinkets decorated every corner and the crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling was bloody ugly. The damn thing probably cost more than he used to earn in a year, even at the peak of his career.

Although Steel had been visualising this meeting with Tiffany for a bloody long time, he'd never imagined it would be with Jack, or in France, or, to be honest, that it would actually happen at all. He had thought the lying cow was long gone. But now, standing by the crackling fire with the woman tucking her daughter in upstairs, he couldn't believe his luck. He reached for his lucky lure and rubbed it between his fingers.

Nine years. That's how long he'd been reflecting on the decisions that changed his life forever. He was reminded of that day every anniversary, not that he'd forget in a hurry anyway. The biggest horse race in Australia seemed to have the whole friggin' country holding its breath for those three minutes—Steel included, but for very different reasons. And each year the damn papers dragged out all the details of the 1992 robbery and, of course, the missing money. Theories abounded, fresh accusations were flung about and the whole sordid event was rehashed. His reputation, his career, his name, all ruined by Tiffany's scheming.

It was time for the world to know who really took that money and put an end to the annual humiliation.

And for Jack. Jack had paid his penance. He too wanted to prove he didn't profit from the robbery. It didn't matter how many times he'd sworn it was for Candice, people still accused him of stashing the cash somewhere. The first time Steel met Candice she was on death's door. And after getting to know both her and Jack better, Steel could almost understand why Jack thought robbing the bank was his only option. Not that he condoned it. He just understood where his head was at, at the time.

It was time for closure.

He turned his back on the fire and moved behind the bar. Never before had he seen such an extravagant collection of bottles. And he'd been in his share of bars in his time, some classy, some barely scraping the bottom of the barrel. He briefly looked for a hidden weapon and after deciding it was safe he turned his eyes back to the bottles. Most of the brands he'd never heard of. He chose a bottle with a gold embossed label, cracked open the black and gold cap and helped himself to another drink.

Jack stood up and walked to the bar, too. “How do you think that went?”

“I have to give it to her, she barely flinched when we told her who we were.”

“She's so caught up in her lies she probably believes she
is
Tiffany.” Jack gulped down a mouthful. “I hate that she named her daughter Candice. Who would do that?”

“Someone who thought they'd got away. Not for much longer, though.”

“Hey…thanks for giving me the heads-up on pretending Murray was still alive,” Jack whispered.

“Sorry. It came to me on the fly, had to roll with it.”

Jack nodded and smiled. “Do you think she believed it?”

“Sure do.” It was a shame the daughter turned up when she did, because Steel sensed that Tiffany's facade was beginning to crack.

However, ten minutes later there was still no sign of her, and Steel was fiddling with his lucky lure nonstop. He came out from behind the bar and glanced out the door of the room. The Spanish woman was folding a piece of paper as she walked down the curved staircase. She was so engrossed in thought she didn't notice him watching her. He moved back into the lounge room, expecting her or Tiffany to enter at any moment, but they didn't.

“Something's wrong.”

“What?”

“She's been gone too long.”

A knock on the front door resonated with the sinking feeling in Steel's gut. In an instant the Spanish woman was at the door and Steel had no doubt she knew who was on the other side.

“Sit down quick. And don't say a word.” It must have been the way he said it, because Jack did as he was told. Steel slipped into the single chair Tiffany had been in and made a show of smelling the amber-coloured liquid in his glass. The picture of calm. On the outside, that is.

Seconds later two uniformed police officers entered the room. One male, one female. The Spanish woman slinked in behind them.

“Messieurs.”
It was the female who spoke.
“Nous avons eu une plainte concernant les intrus.”

“Parlez-vous anglais, s'il vous plaît?”
Steel was so glad he remembered this phrase.

The female nodded. “We've had a call from Madame Delacroix complaining of trespassers.”

“Officers.” Steel stood up and offered his hand. “My name is Montgomery Steel, visiting from Australia. We were given permission to enter this house to talk to Mrs Delacroix.”

“Who gave you
autorisation
?”

“She did.” Steel pointed at the Spanish woman. Tears sprang to her already red eyes and she replied hysterically in French. The female officer responded and Mariana quickly calmed down.

“It appears you told Mademoiselle Silba that you knew Madame Delacroix. She let you in under that assumption.”

“Mrs Delacroix does know us. If you ask her to join us we can sort this out very easily.” Steel remained calm.

The Spanish woman removed a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to the female officer. Steel had a fair idea what would be on it.

“Madame Delacroix has vacated. She has requested that we escort you off the premises.”

“That bitch!” Jack startled everyone by his outburst.

“
Excusez-moi monsieur
, please state your name and purpose for being here.”

Steel saw the nervousness in Jack's eyes. “I'm Jack Rich. Tiffany and I are old friends and I was trying to catch up with her.”

“Looking for money, I assume.” This was the first time the male officer had spoken.

“No, as a matter of fact, we weren't.” Steel put on his most becoming smile.

“Come on. Let's go.” The female officer held her arm out in a move-it-now gesture. “Quietly, we don't want to disturb the neighbours.” Despite her petite frame, Steel noticed the well-sculpted muscles beneath her shirtsleeves. Her physique screamed fitness fanatic and he had the feeling many before him had underestimated her strength. Jack arrived at Steel's side and they both voluntarily moved towards the door.

“So what are your names?” Steel said to the male officer as he walked past him.

“I'm Officer Lécuyer and my partner is Officer Bellerosé.” The male officer motioned to his muscular female partner. The two cops stopped at the outside landing to shrug into their heavy winter coats. It was only now Steel noticed just how cold it was. Funny, he hadn't noticed it on the way up from the village. He figured adrenaline had kept him warm—and trying not to fall on his arse on the icy road.

“Hey, I don't suppose you could give us a lift back to our hotel. It's bloody cold out there.”

Lécuyer frowned at him. “How did you get up here?”

“We walked.” Steel tugged his jacket on and Jack did the same.

The officer looked at him in disbelief. “My my, you were desperate. It's below freezing.”

“I'll walk,” Jack said. “There's no way I'm getting into the back of a police car.”

“Come on, Jack. Your fingers will snap off out here.” Steel had no plans of walking back down the hill. Too bloody far, and too bloody cold. He wasn't a fan of cold.

It took some convincing but Jack finally agreed, and as Bellerosé slid behind the wheel, Jack and Steel climbed into the back of the four-wheel drive police cruiser. Steel glanced up at the chalet. It was easily the biggest and the most garish building in view. The huge pink mansion clung to the mountain face like a wart on a beautiful woman's chin.

“Money doesn't buy taste!” Jack was reading his mind.

Steel felt sorry for the neighbours. Surely their traditional stone-built chalets, with high-pitched roofs and designer hot tubs, hit bottom value with the new eyesore next door.

“So did you know Tiffany was from Australia?” Steel tried to catch Bellerosé's eyes in the mirror.

“No.” Lécuyer shifted in his seat so he could look behind at Steel and Jack.

“Yeah, Jack and I knew her well. How long has she been living here?”

“She doesn't live here.”

“Right, she lives in Paris, we went there first.”

Lécuyer's eyebrows shot up. “You
messieurs
really are desperate to see her. What was the reason again?”

Steel had every intention of skirting around the answer. But he realised their original plan to obtain a voluntary confession was now shattered. It was time to lay it all out in the open. “How about we go back to the station, have a hot coffee and fill you in.”

Jack shot Steel a foul look.

Lécuyer shrugged. “We can do that, can't we Bellerosé?” He turned forward again, signalling an end to the conversation. Steel deliberately ignored Jack by looking out the window. It had started to snow. The road was a series of hairpin turns that wound its way down the mountain. Giant trees heavily laden with snow lined the road. And little chalets sparkling with twinkling lights were nestled in amongst the foliage.

The rest of the ride down to the station was a quiet one. But the whole time, Steel wondered if Tiffany was planning on running again. She'd done it once before, and with all the money she had now she could easily do it again. No sooner were they at the bottom of the mountain than they arrived at the village. It too was postcard perfect. They cruised past restaurants and cafés all laced with snow. Fireplaces were blazing in all of them.

When they pulled in to a parking space at the police station, Jack jumped out as if his arse was on fire. Steel tried to assure him that everything would be all right, but Jack was twitching like a television reporter with the runs. Steel caught his eye and mouthed, “Calm down.” After a while Jack nodded and took a deep breath.

They were led into an interview room. Steel was impressed. It was much more inviting than the ones he was used to. But one thing he didn't like was being on the wrong side of the table. When that money went missing all those years ago, he'd taken his share of grillings. And despite there being an element of respect, him being a fellow officer and all, some of them couldn't wait to stick it to him. He would never forget that. Or the men who did it. It wasn't the best way to find out who your true friends were.

Steel was relieved when Lécuyer and Bellerosé entered the room with steaming coffee cups. At least these guys seemed decent. “So what do you want to tell us?” Bellerosé smiled as if it were just the two of them having a quiet chat over dinner.

“Okay, for starters…I'm a police officer.”

The two detectives made eye contact, but Steel was confident he'd gotten away with it. It was only a small lie, and after twenty-six years in the force it was a hard habit to break.

It was time to tell the whole story. “I hope you two weren't going anywhere, because this could be a long night.”

T
iffany had seen the police car, but only as it went past her. And that put her anger into overdrive. Not only did they not have their flashing lights on, they were driving as if they were out for Sunday lunch. Surely two strangers in a woman's house deserved more urgency than that. No-one in France treated her with the respect she deserved. She'd worked damn hard to try and fit in. But this was the last straw, she was out of there.

She put her foot down. Geneva Airport was only an hour or so away. She glanced at the clock—only 6:44 p.m. It seemed so much later. The sun set early here in winter. It was one of the things she hated. In fact, at this point she had no idea why she chose Chamonix to get away to.

She drove right past the small village at the bottom of the mountain and knew she'd never return. She had plenty of other options. Somewhere sunny would be nice. She pictured herself lying on a deck chair, tequila sunrise in her hand, pink bikini showing off her new body. Nothing but golden sand, sun-drenched beaches, crystal blue water, and maybe a spunky man or two to rub in her suntan lotion. Hot sex, too. That's what she needed. Not the slap and tickle stuff Jacques was happy with, she was ready for a full-blooded man to give her the goddamned multiple orgasms she deserved. She laughed aloud and accelerated even more.

After a series of roundabouts she headed down the mountain range. The Cayman Islands came to mind. Jacques had mentioned it once. That's where some of their money was secured. Suddenly she knew what she was going to do. She'd disappeared before. She could do it again. She'd have Candice brought to her when she figured out where she was going. Then again, if she disappeared, maybe she didn't need to. Candice would be looked after, she'd make sure of that. Without Candice, Tiffany would truly be free.

Her heart pounded as the plan cemented itself.
Run away. Change your name
. She was tired of Tiffany anyway. She should never have kept it. But that bastard she'd met seven years ago in Sydney had wanted to charge her $900 for each set of papers she wanted. In the end she kept Tiffany Black's driver's licence and paid for a passport. And there was no way she was paying the scoundrel for a new birth certificate for her daughter. Just a passport was enough for her.