Pauline Rowson - In for the Kill

Gus’s words came back to me, ‘You’re dealing with a very clever man. I suspect he knows your every move before you’ve even made it.’ I hoped he didn’t know this one. I wanted to surprise the bastard.

My head was pounding and my back was still aching from the beating Rowde’s henchman had given me. I was tired. I wanted to lay down and sleep for a year. A car tooted at me as I veered dangerously over the white line onto the other side of the road at the bend towards St Helen’s.

I jerked the steering wheel back and forced myself to concentrate. It wasn’t easy.

Surely if I told Gus about Rowde’s threat to my boys he’d hand over the money? He had to.

I couldn’t imagine him letting any harm come to David and Philip because if it did it would destroy his relationship with Vanessa. That cheered me. Gus hadn’t counted on Rowde. I might actually end up being grateful to Rowde, strange though it might seem.

As I pulled into the narrow lay-by opposite my houseboat I glimpsed a figure by the door and with a jolt recognised it was Deeta. I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or irritated. It was late. I wanted to ease my aching body before my trip to Guernsey tomorrow, but now I’d have to invite her in and make small talk. That’s what my brain said, other parts of my body were telling me something quite different and small talk didn’t feature in it. Whether I would have the energy for those more amorous and athletic inclinations was a different matter though.

She turned to face me. I expected a smile, but what I got was an expression out of a Hammer horror movie that curdled my blood. Her skin was almost opaque with terror and her blue eyes wide and alarmed. I rushed towards her stifling a groan that could have been even louder than the one I’d uttered climbing out of the car. What now for God’s sake! Had Rowde planted more dead bodies on my houseboat?

She pointed at my open door. I guessed I was pale by now. With a quickening heartbeat, that would have had a heart surgeon salivating, I tentatively pushed open the door and stepped inside. Thank God. No body, only chaos. I let out a long, slow sigh of relief. I had been burgled.

I quickly ran my eye around the room; cushions were strewn on the floor, the cupboards opened and their contents tossed around. I guessed it was the same down below but didn’t get a chance to find out as Deeta came up behind me.

‘Who could have done such a terrible thing?’

she cried aghast.

Rowde most probably. One of his little warnings, like Westnam’s body. Yet, as my eyes surveyed the mess I knew that whoever had done this had been searching for something rather than simply being destructive, as Rowde would have been. Someone who’d had to act very quickly.

I’d seen enough cells turned over to spot the signs.

Deeta seemed really shaken. I lifted the cushion onto the seat. ‘Sit down. You need a drink.’

‘I should be saying that to you.’

I was surprised to see how distressed she was.

It was as if her home had been violated not mine.

‘We both need a drink,’ I said gently, going below to fetch one. It gave me a chance to see where else my intruder had left his mark. The galley wasn’t too bad; at least the crockery was still in the cupboards. I found a bottle of red wine and two glasses and dived into my bedroom before returning to the upper deck.

My clothes were strewn about the floor. I remembered my mother’s jewellery. It was all there, still in the box file, in its plastic bag: her wedding and engagement ring, a couple of brooches, a silver locket and a gold bracelet. The photographs had been tossed on the floor along with the diaries.

‘Has anything been taken?’

I swung round to find Deeta standing in the doorway. Her tight jeans and even tighter T-shirt showed off her figure to perfection. My heart began to beat faster this time with excitement and longing rather than fear.

‘Not that I can see,’ I said. This was one thing I couldn’t lay at Gus’s door. Unless he had flown back in a private plane as soon as Vanessa had telephoned him after my visit, landing at Bembridge airfield… stop being so bloody stupid, I scolded myself.

I made to move back upstairs when Deeta stepped further into the bedroom. I cleared my throat and tried to look relaxed. I wasn’t sure if I succeeded.

‘These photographs, they’re of you as a child.’

Before I could stop her she had picked up a handful of photographs and was sitting on the bed. OK, I thought, might as well join her. I opened the bottle and poured her a glass.

She took a sip and gave me a look that was both assessing and admiring, but maybe I just wanted it to be so. I could hardly breathe from being so close to her. I could smell her light scent. My hands ached to touch a woman, my arms to embrace one…

‘Are you always this calm in a crisis?’

If only she knew. ‘Not always.’ I felt an overwhelming desire to confide. It would be such a relief just to be able to talk to someone about what was happening to me, but it would also put that person in danger. I couldn’t do it.

Besides, in prison, I had learnt the hard way, never to confide in anyone, it only led to trouble.

‘How come you found this?’ I asked, sweeping an arm to take in the destruction.

‘I was passing and thought that maybe you had returned.’ She dashed a glance at me and I felt flattered by it. ‘I saw your door was open.’ She was regaining some of her colour. ‘What were they after?’

I shrugged and sipped my wine. Money? The code to the Swiss bank account where my millions were stashed away?

‘Aren’t you going to call the police?’ She frowned, puzzled.

‘Why? They won’t be able to do anything and they certainly won’t catch whoever did it.’

‘What about the insurance?’

‘Not worth it,’ I dismissed.

This breakin was the least of my worries. But sitting here with her, drinking wine, the tension began to ease a little. Oh, my anxiety was still burrowing away inside my gut, and I was impatient for action but, I kept telling myself, there was nothing I could do until tomorrow.

Her slender hands were flicking through the photographs.

‘What happened to you, Alex?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Percy says you went to prison for stealing money, is it true?’

‘No.’ I felt the involuntary stiffening of my body. She noticed it.

‘I believe you.’

‘Why?’

‘You look honest.’

I laughed. ‘I wish you’d been on the jury. No, I’m not making fun of you, Deeta,’ I added hastily, seeing her puzzled and slightly dejected look. ‘Someone framed me.’

‘Tell me about it.’ She looked at me over the edge of her wine glass.

I’d rather kiss you, I thought. ‘I’d only bore you.’

‘I don’t think you’d do that, Alex.’

My heart went into overdrive. I wanted so much to make love to her and yet I was half scared to death to even try. It had been such a long time.

She picked up the photograph of me with the telescope. ‘It must have been magical growing up in a place like this and with such a beautiful, caring mother. You can see she loves you by the look in her eyes and the way she has her arm around you.’

‘I know.’ My voice faltered for a moment.

‘Did she ever talk about the old days? About her father?’

‘Teddy Hardley?’ I shook my head. ‘Not much.

He died when she was quite young.’

‘And he never left any letters, or a diary?’

‘No. Why the interest?’

‘I’m an historian, remember.’ She gazed steadily at me with those big blue eyes. My heart was melting and my loins were on fire with desire.

‘I am always interested in the past,’ she said.

‘It’s only the present that matters to me.’ I didn’t want her to leave. She would be a distraction for me, and a pleasant one at that. That sounded callous. I didn’t mean it to be. Or did I? For one night she might help me to forget about the past and the future. It was selfish of me, but I was sure it was what she also wanted.