Quintin Jardine - On Honeymoon With Death

‘We didn’t call in the police at that stage for one reason only. One of the other investors is chief executive of a major public company, and he crapped himself about what the City might make of the news that he’d been the victim of a professional scam. When I heard that you and Prim were here, so close to the action, I volunteered to come out, and go to see the banker and the lawyer, Toldo, to find out whether the money was safe.

‘We didn’t have much hope of that, though. The day after Hickok’s death, the detective we put on Chandler reported back that he’d flown to the Costa del Sol, then out again to Rio, using another of his names.’

‘You know what that means, don’t you?’ I murmured. I had been keeping pace with her.

‘Yes indeed. Whoever it was that chucked me down your stairs. . and I agree that someone did. . there’s precious little chance that it was him.’

‘So who did?’

‘Exactly. And, just as intriguing. . why? It wasn’t Chandler, and if it was linked to my business in Glasgow, then it would just have happened there. I would understand if someone had seen me and had to have my fabulous body, but why would anyone want to break into your house, just to attack me?

‘Christ, I’d been in town for less than a day. Who would even know I was there?’

I didn’t have an answer for her, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it either, not then at any rate. Susie slipped her passport and boarding card into her shoulder-bag, put her arms around my neck, and pressed herself to me; we kissed, a mix of Glasgow and Fife style, a long and slow goodbye. If either of us had been wearing shades they’d have steamed up.

Finally, we came up for air. ‘I’ll write to you when I get back,’ she said. ‘Formally inviting you to join the board. You’ll let me know when you leave here, won’t you?’

‘Sure. I have the Glasgow premiere of Snatch coming up in a couple of weeks. I’ll be back for that, certainly: we’ll be back, I should say. You’re on the invitation list, by the way. It’ll probably be there when you get home.’

‘You make sure it is “we”,’ she cautioned me. ‘But don’t look for me there; not just yet.’

‘Fair enough,’ I acknowledged. ‘Hey. Just you remember, when you go looking for your titled consort, don’t go selling yourself short.’

She looked at me as if I was daft, her brown eyes flashing, the light glinting on her hair. ‘Selling doesn’t come into it, honey. I’ll be buying.’

I laughed at her frankness, but doubted if she’d have to get her chequebook out.

She kissed me again. ‘Hey,’ she whispered. ‘If Susie did love …’

‘Yeah,’ I answered. ‘Oz too …’

She turned and walked towards the gate, passport produced and offered for the cursory inspection, then she was through, beyond the metal detector and gone. She didn’t look back; to my complete surprise, I experienced a sudden surge of loneliness. It was nothing new to me, yet it signalled the truth of what she had said. My life had changed.

All the way back up the autopista I could think only of Susie, and what she’d told me at the airport. I had accepted Chandler ne Fowler as her attacker not just because it was convenient but because it was the only logical explanation.

But if it wasn’t him. . and it wasn’t. . then who on Earth, and, yes, just as important why on Earth?

If Susie didn’t have an enemy, that just left me. I ran through the field.

Fortunato? Never in a hundred; I was the answer to the guy’s prayers. When Prim turned up in L’Escala again he must have been the most relieved man in town to see that she had brought a new husband with her, after the way he had ditched her. The grief she could still have given him over that must have weighed heavily on him, especially with things patched up with Vero and her believing, as naively as I had, that he knew nothing about Prim’s aborted kid.

Steve Miller? He was an even less likely candidate. His remodelled hooter gave him something against me, but until then he hadn’t taken me seriously. I knew quite well that he’d seen me as no more a sap over whom he held a supposed edge, by virtue of having shafted Prim once upon a time. Anyway, no way was he capable of picking a lock expertly, nor could I see him manhandling Susie either.

Reynard Capulet? Even if he was still in the vicinity, which I doubted in a big way, what could he possibly have against me? I was the guy who had bought his house, and given him a big slab of money for it into the bargain. Okay, I had found the stiff in the pool, but someone had to, eventually, especially if they’d been meant to.

Someone from my recent, fairly exciting, past? Again, no, for one good reason; those who might have had an axe to grind against my skull are all dead. Okay there’s one who isn’t, but if he had been going to have a pop at me he’d have done it long ago, and somewhere else.

No one came to mind; no one at all. By the time I hit L’Escala I was back to thinking of Susie again, about our incredible three days together, and of the many truths she had told me and shown me, about herself, about Prim and about me.

No, Oz doesn’t love any more, not anyone alive, at least, but he can be attracted if the magnet is strong enough. I hadn’t thought of her in that way before. Back then, she was with Mike Dylan and he was my pal, and the old Oz didn’t do things like coveting a pal’s lady, far less covering her. Now, I thought of her, of our last kiss at the airport, of her retreating back, and I felt that pang again.

I swung the Voyager into the driveway, through the gate which I had left open, and drove it into the garage, beside the Merc. I took the shorter route to the back door, unlocked it, and stepped inside, my hand going up quickly to disable the alarm. But the active light was out. I frowned and walked along the short corridor, into the kitchen.

She was leaning over the dishwasher, with her back to me. I looked at her, and felt even more disorientated than I had on the previous Thursday, when Susie’s voice had sounded behind me. I had had more than enough surprises for a while; and I sure wasn’t ready for this one. I had wanted time, time to think about her, and of what I was going to say to her.

My foot squeaked on the tiled floor and she jumped. She turned quickly, gasped with relief and smiled.

‘I know that “Welcome home” is in order,’ I said, ‘but I have to ask. How the hell did you get here?’

‘It’s a short story, really,’ she answered. She came to me and hugged me. ‘After we spoke on Friday, I went out for lunch with Miles and Dawn. We met an actor friend of his, Nicky Johnson. You’ve heard of him, I’m sure. Miles mentioned that I was there from Spain, and he said that he was about to fly to Madrid, in his private jet. He offered me a lift, said he would drop me off in Barcelona.

‘I thought it was too good a chance to miss, so here I am. I beat you home by five minutes; my taxi’s just gone.’ I had passed a Barcelona Airport taxi as I crossed the town boundary; its green light on top had caught my eye.

‘So where’s Susie?’ she asked.

‘She’s gone home. She felt awkward,’ I lied glibly, ‘with just the two of us being here, so she brought her flight forward. I’m just back from the airport myself.’

‘It’s a wonder I didn’t see you there, with our luck.’

Too right , I thought. Then something important came to me. ‘Put on the coffee,’ I said. ‘I won’t be a minute.’ I strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Quickly, I stripped the sheets and pillowcases from our bed and shoved them into the laundry basket in our bathroom; then I crossed the hall and did the same in the bedroom which Susie had used, if only briefly.