Питер Мэй - I'll Keep You Safe

She shrugged listlessly. ‘Someone wanted him dead. Probably both of them. The police think it’s murder.’

There was shock in Lee’s voice. ‘But why?’

‘Apparently they were having an affair.’

Now astonishment. ‘Ruairidh and Irina?’

She nodded.

‘I can’t believe it. Why on earth would Ruairidh choose that little Russian mouse over you? It’s not possible.’

‘The police think that Irina’s husband, Georgy, probably planted the bomb. An act of jealous revenge.’

‘They’ve got him for it?’

She shook her head. ‘No. He’s gone missing.’

‘Oh, my darling.’ He put both arms around her again. ‘My poor, poor darling. This is so horrible for you. And I still can’t believe it. What was Ruairidh thinking? If you were mine I would never have let you go.’

From the depths of her wretchedness, Niamh somehow managed to find a smile. ‘I think, Lee, if I were to be yours I’d need something a little more between my legs.’

Which elicited a roar of laughter. ‘Oh. My. God. Niamh. you are...’ He shook his head. ‘Impossible. I’m lost for words.’ He stood up, suddenly, still holding her hand. ‘Let me take you home. I’ve got an executive rental jet at Orly. I can fly you back to the island.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m not allowed to leave Paris.’

Frown lines carved themselves deeply between his eyes. ‘Why?’

She sighed. ‘The investigation is ongoing. At first they thought I might have done it. And I might still be a suspect.’

‘Well, that’s just ridiculous. Anyone who knows you, knows you couldn’t possibly have done such a thing.’

She looked up at him. ‘Really? Who knows what anyone is capable of in the right, or wrong, circumstances?’ Her eyes turned down again. ‘And, anyway, I can’t leave without Ruairidh.’

His frown deepened. ‘Ruairidh?’ Then it dawned on him, and his face dissolved into sympathy. ‘Oh, yes. Of course.’ He hesitated awkwardly. ‘How long will they keep him?’

She shook her head, fighting the urge to weep again. ‘God knows. I suppose there are things they have to do. A post-mortem. Lab testing. DNA.’ She didn’t even want to think about it.

‘Well,’ he said. And he took her other hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘You might not be allowed to leave Paris, but you certainly don’t have to be stuck here in some awful hotel room. I’m going to take you out on the town. Anywhere you want to go. Anywhere you’d like to eat.’

She breathed her despondency at him. ‘I don’t think I want to go anywhere or eat anything ever again, Lee.’

‘Oh nonsense. Dwelling on it all is only going to make it worse. The first thing we need to do is take your mind off things. And I’m the very one to do that.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t, Lee. I can’t.’

‘Nonsense! I’ve got a car waiting downstairs. Put a face on. I’m taking you out of here.’

It was early evening by the time Lee returned Niamh to her hotel. The square had reopened now, she noticed, windows in the Café Fluctuat Nec Mergitur had been replaced and the tables set out around it were full of young people sipping at pre-dinner aperitifs. A kind of defiant return to normality. It took no time, it seemed, for new skin to grow over fresh wounds, even if those wounds still ran deep beneath the surface. On the face of it, nothing had happened the night before. Parisian nightlife continued as it always does. Only the line of police vehicles and the armed officers who stood around in groups, still smoking, betrayed the nervousness of a city that had seen too many of its citizens violently murdered in these last few years.

The only thing that had changed from this same time the previous evening was that two people were dead. They would never play a part in the return to normalcy. Neither would Niamh. Her world could never be the same again.

Lee’s driver dropped her off at the door of the Crowne Plaza. Lee kissed her and hugged her goodbye on the back seat and promised to call very soon. She slipped out into the warm evening air and made her way stiffly towards her own reflection. It divided in front of her to let her through and into the lobby.

He had taken her to lunch in a Michelin-starred restaurant where she had eaten very little, turning down all Lee’s offers of champagne, only to watch him quaff a whole bottle himself and become more loquacious by the glass.

The rest of the afternoon had passed in a blur of Lee’s drunkenness. A wine bar somewhere, all glass and steel, and disturbing reflections of Niamh everywhere she looked. Lee had ordered more wine, but Niamh could only bring herself to drink Badoit. Vincent Dancer, she remembered Lee saying as he raised his glass for the umpteenth time, but wasn’t sure if that was the barman or the winemaker. It was as if he were drowning her sorrows for her.

He told her he wanted to use Ranish Tweed again for his next collection. Something different this time. Classier. An appeal to the country set. But she couldn’t have cared less. Ranish meant only one thing to her. Ruairidh. And he was gone.

She slipped the electronic key in the door of her club room and was shocked as it swung open to reveal her bedroom filled with flowers. A profusion of roses, and colourful sprays of other seasonal blooms, in bouquets and arrangements set into hand-woven baskets. They were on the bed and the floor, on the settee and the dresser. Each had a card attached to it, every one of them signed by Lee. Which brought a tearful smile to her face. What on earth was she going to do with them?

She cleared a space on the bed and sat down, trying to think clearly. There were things she needed to do, that she had used the excuse of Lee simply to avoid. The immediate family knew about Ruairidh’s death, and no doubt others were learning about it from the newspapers and the news bulletins which had been running all day on TV. But she knew it was her responsibility to let everyone else know. She would compose a standard, unemotional account of events and email it to her address list.

It took some minutes for her to summon the strength to stand up and retrieve her iPad from the safe.

It wasn’t there. But she knew she’d put it safely away. Just before she had left with Lee. The safe seemed ominously dark in its emptiness at the bottom of the wardrobe. She stood up and looked around the room. Maybe she just wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe she’d put it somewhere else after all. It was difficult to see with these flowers everywhere.

She called reception and asked for someone to come and take them away. Perhaps they could be donated to someone, or something. A hospital. An old folks home. The girl at reception said they would take care of it.

Then minutes later they were gone, and the room seemed very empty. But there was still no sign of the iPad. Now she noticed, too, that items of clothing and make-up that she had left on the dressing table had been moved. Perhaps by the people who had delivered the flowers. But she was starting to get spooked. The iPad was gone. Someone must have been in her room and taken it.

The phone rang and she shut her eyes in something close to despair. She really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. But the insistent trill of it bored its way into her resolve and she eventually snatched the receiver. ‘Yes?’

She waited. There was no response. Perhaps whoever was calling had already hung up. But, no. There was someone at the other end of the line. She could hear them breathing. Now she was alarmed.

‘Hello? Who is this?’ Still nothing. ‘For God’s sake!’ And she slammed the receiver back in its cradle.

Now, for the very first time, it was fear that kicked in.