Quintin Jardine - On Honeymoon With Death

‘Jesus!’ I gasped. ‘That was below the belt.’

‘It was true, though, wasn’t it? You know something? Jack Gantry might not have been my natural father, but he raised me as if he was. Heredity isn’t everything; upbringing counts for much more. The old Lord Provost used to say to me, “You know, kid, there’s one thing that’ll stand between a man and his conscience every time. But he’ll never admit it.”

‘Maybe it’s time you did. You like women, Oz. You could have married Jan when you were both twenty-one, but you put her on the shelf so you could screw your way through Edinburgh. I know; she told me. Not in so many words, but she told me. You haven’t changed now, and you never will. Sure, you can wring your hands for the sake of it, you can have your guilt, and you can have your self-recrimination; but let’s have some honesty here as well. You could fuck the daylights out of me for the rest of the weekend and still look Prim in the eye when you meet her at the airport.

‘Oz, my dear, you are a serial shagger. You always have been and you always will be. Face the fact.’

I don’t know why. . no, that’s a lie, I do know why. . but when she said that, I closed my eyes and saw a face; not Jan’s, not Primavera’s, not hers, but the olive skin and dark eyes of Veronique Sanchez i Leclerc.

‘I’ll make it easy for you,’ Susie went on. ‘I’ll be gone by Sunday. I honestly don’t want to bust up your marriage, and I’m not as smooth as you. I know how perceptive Prim can be.’

She took a good swig of her coffee. ‘Strong stuff this. I can feel my brain beginning to work again. So let’s go back to what you were on about upstairs, just after you. . on your own initiative, by the way, not mine. . gave me that very enjoyable full body massage. What were you on about?’

‘Yes, please,’ I said. I was more than happy to change the subject. ‘First off, tell me this. Do you have any history of sleepwalking? Do you often go to sleep in one place and waken up in another?’

‘Never,’ she replied firmly. ‘I’ve crawled into bed often enough, like last night, but I’ve never ever crawled out of it.’

‘Okay. Now, what do you remember about last night?’

‘From when?’

‘From the beginning.’

‘I remember we had a couple of beers and went out in a taxi.’

‘What did I do before we went out?’

She frowned. ‘Went for a slash? I don’t know.’

‘No, immediately before we went out; at the front door.’

‘Ahh. You set the alarm.’

‘Right. Go on.’

‘We went to that fisherman’s place and had a meal, and a bottle of nice pink fizzy wine. Torres de Casta, it was.’

‘Very good. Before we left, you went to the ladies. Were you okay there?’

She raised her eyebrows, and smirked at me. ‘Everything was a perfectly normal colour, if that’s what you mean.’

‘No, you daft bitch. Did you slip, did the bevvy get to you, did you flake out?’

‘No. I did what I had to do, then came back to join you.’

‘Right, next.’

‘We went to that wee bar, to see the nice old dear who gave me a lift. I went on to the brandy.’

‘I went to the gents again while we were there. When I was away, did anything happen? Did you fall off your bar stool or anything?’

‘Certainly not! While you were away the two guys who’d been playing pool came through, paid Jo for their drinks, and left. Then a German couple came in. Then you came back.’

‘Then?’

She sighed and smiled, blushing slightly. ‘That’s it. I remember you coming back and sitting down beside me, and finishing another big horse of a brandy. Then it all got very vague, until I was looking up and seeing you and my bum was feeling cold on the floor. Thinking back, the first thing I thought was that I’d fainted and that, yes, I had fallen off my bar stool. I was puzzled though; ’cos I knew I’d been wearing knickers when we went out.’

I felt myself frowning as I looked at her. ‘Think really carefully, Susie. Can you remember dreaming, even?’

She concentrated. I waited for almost a minute. ‘You know,’ she murmured, eventually. ‘I think I can. It was a funny dream. You were in it. You were standing in a big dark room; you were holding my boots in your hands, of all things. I knew I had to get your attention; I tried to shout to you but I couldn’t. I tried to run to you, but I couldn’t. I could feel someone dragging me in the opposite direction and all the time you were getting further away.’

‘How was he pulling you?’

She looked at me. ‘By the arms,’ she whispered. ‘Oz, does that mean anything?’

I pushed myself off my chair and walked across to the back door, which was at the end of a small hallway. Susie followed me, without being asked.

I showed her a panel set in the wall. ‘That’s a second control panel for the alarm system. It’s old technology, but it’s sound. You can set it, or disable it, back and front. You can do it manually, or with a remote; once it’s set, the whole ground floor is covered, and all the bedrooms that aren’t programmed out. Just now, that means yours and mine. I always set it at night, Susie; always with the remote as I go upstairs. Just as I always lock all the doors, then and when I go out. The shutters are all secured by bolts on the inside, but even if they weren’t, the windows have sensors. The only way to get into this house quietly when the alarm is set is by coming in through the back or front doors and switching it off.

‘I realised this morning that when I came down to see to you last night, the alarm didn’t go off. I checked it; it had been disabled. Then I checked all the doors, and the windows, just for luck.’ I grabbed the handle of the back door, turned it and swung it open.

‘It was like that,’ I told her. I didn’t have to draw her any more pictures. She stood there, looking up at me shocked.

I put my hands on her shoulders, to steady both of us, maybe. ‘Susie, love,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to frighten you, but. . I don’t think you were sleepwalking last night. I think someone broke in here, took you out of bed and chucked you down the stairs.’

I felt her start to shake; her chin quivered. ‘Why would anyone want to do that?’ she asked me, in a small voice.

‘I don’t know. I really don’t.’

She looked up at me in a strange way; there was fear in there, but something more than that. Her shivering grew more violent, and I had the distinct impression that she wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words. . or was afraid to find them.

I got it at last. ‘No!’ I shouted. ‘No, Susie, I promise you it wasn’t me. I’m the good guy here, honest.’ I pulled her to me and hugged her, as if to emphasise my innocence.

She pressed her face into my chest. ‘Sorry.’ I felt her say it as much as I heard it. ‘I know you didn’t, or wouldn’t, really. It’s just that when I came round, I saw you and when you said that. . I just had a terrible thought.’ She laughed, nervously. ‘Too many movies, I guess, and with you being in them now and all.’

She slid an arm around my neck, pulled herself up on her toes, and kissed me. Her lips were full and moist, and she seemed to taste of honey; her tongue flicked mine. I should have pulled back, but instead I felt myself draw her to me. I tried in vain to think of mistletoe. It was still Christmas, after all. ‘Susie,’ I murmured, as our mouths managed to unweld themselves.

‘Funny, innit?’ she said, in a voice that matched her taste. ‘We’ve had sex, but that’s the first time we’ve ever kissed.’

‘And the last, eh?’ I tried my best to smile.

‘We’ll see,’ she answered, teasing, as she took her arms from my neck and linked them round my waist. And then she was serious. ‘I’m sorry I got scared then, Oz. Christ,’ she exclaimed suddenly, ‘I’m entitled to be, though.