24

THREE DAYS HAD passed since Danny’s murder. The press had congregated at the end of the lane, held at bay by the police, but many of them had found their way into the trees surrounding Jean-Claude’s house. The second any of them stepped outside the sound of cameras drowned the incessant croak of the cicadas and if either of them left by car it was a horrible and gruelling business trying to get through the urgent clamourings at the end of the lane. So on the whole they stayed indoors.

Jake had contacted Erik to tell him that he had managed to get out of France and was now en route to Mexico, but where he had called from, or when he would call again, Erik had no idea. It was hard for Louisa to imagine what might be happening to him now, but with so much going on around her she could hardly bear to think about it. One of the worst parts of these three days had been having to face Danny’s father. Her mother was still in London, under sedation, so David Spencer had flown down with Danny’s aunt Rebecca who owned the villa, to collect Danny’s belongings and drive her car back to England. The body was flown back the same day.

Faced with David’s despair both Sarah and Louisa had wanted only to escape. Their guilt at the way they had treated Danny these past few weeks, snapping at her, ostracizing her, that last dreadful evening was too much to bear. It was Erik who had spent the most time with David, offering what comfort he could and listening for hours as David put himself through the heartbreak of remembering his daughter.

Now David and Rebecca had gone and with their passports in police custody Sarah and Louisa could only sit waiting at Jean-Claude’s for the next interminable visit from the detectives investigating the case. The fact that Louisa had no alibi for that morning was causing them some concern and since neither she nor Erik knew how to get hold of Jake there was nothing she could say to put their minds at rest. It wasn’t that they suspected her of the murder, but she wished Jake was there to corroborate where she has been that morning.

Louisa’s main concern now was to help Sarah and Erik sort through Morandi’s paintings, for the evidence of all the blackmail had been secreted in the backs. It hadn’t been easy to persuade the concierge to let them into Morandi’s flat, especially when the police had declared it out of bounds, but Erik had taken care of that with an excessively generous bribe, just as he was going to take care of handing the evidence over to the lawyer, who in turn would take it to the police.

It was during the early evening of the fourth day, after Erik had returned from the lawyer, having been there since ten o’clock that morning, that news reached them through Marianne that Consuela’s passport had been seized. It wasn’t quite as much as they’d hoped for, but they cracked open a bottle of champagne nevertheless. They all needed something to lift their spirits, even if it was going to be shortlived.

Knowing now of Marianne’s association with Consuela none of them could be sure whether or not to trust her; on the one hand she was giving them information about Consuela, but on the other she was refusing to leave the house on the Cap d’Antibes and come and stay at Jean-Claude’s. However, Erik considered that she was probably of more use to them if she remained at Consuela’s, they just had to be careful about how much they told her.

The next day, to everyone’s horror, the finger of suspicion was suddenly pointed at Erik. He had changed his flight from Paris to an earlier one on the morning of the murder and they had only his word as to how long it had taken him to drive from Nice airport to the villa. The time of the murder had been placed at around thirty minutes after the plane touched down. It was possible, providing there had been no hold-ups at the airport or on the autoroute to get to the villa in that time. Erik insisted that the drive had taken him closer to forty-five minutes, but he had no way of proving it. When asked if he could produce an autoroute ticket to prove that he had passed through a péage on that day he couldn’t do that either. But since few people kept the tickets the police weren’t particularly suspicious of that and, though it wasn’t actually impossible, the likelihood was so remote that anyone could have done that drive and committed a murder – which the experts assured them would have had a timespan of no less than five minutes and probably not more than eight – Erik was ordered to surrender his passport and was then released from his interrogation and told to stay on the Côte d’Azur until further notice.

‘I just don’t understand,’ Louisa said to Erik as the two of them, having managed to escape the press, strolled along the edge of the sea at La Napoule just before dawn one morning, ‘why Consuela hasn’t been charged yet. With all the evidence we handed over you’d have thought they’d have gone straight round there and arrested her.’

‘I’m sure they did go round there,’ Erik answered, still looking drained after his ordeal the day before and the sleepless night that had followed. ‘But Consuela will have some pretty powerful lawyers working for her, make no mistake about that.’

‘But there are sworn statements from the victims,’ Louisa interrupted. ‘No one can refute that.’

‘True. But they’ll have to contact everyone who made those statements to make sure they weren’t coerced into making them. And now Aphrodite’s and Danny’s murders have been linked it’ll be that the police are most interested in.’

‘Of course,’ Louisa sighed. Then stopping and scuffing her feet in the sand she said, ‘If only they could come up with some proof that Consuela was behind the murders.’

‘They will,’ Erik assured her.

‘Will they?’ Louisa sighed. ‘I’d feel more confident about that if they’d only let Morandi go. Why are they still holding him?’

‘Because he still doesn’t have an alibi for that afternoon. At least he does, but Consuela is still swearing he wasn’t there.’

‘Oh God, it’s all got so complicated,’ Louisa groaned, feeling vulnerable and confused and horribly low after her own sleepless night. And as the wretched tears started again she said, ‘It’s all gone so wrong. Nothing was meant to turn out like this and I wish Danny was here so that I could tell her I’m sorry. I wish we were all back in London. I wish we’d never come here, if we hadn’t she’d still be alive. And we only came because of me. Because she thought I needed cheering up after Simon and the baby and everything. Oh, Erik, why is it we only really appreciate someone when they’re not here any more?’

‘Hey come on,’ Erik said, pulling her into his arms as his own voice filled with tears. ‘I know it’s hard for you, it’s hard for all of us, but please don’t regret coming here. If you do that then you’ll regret Danny and I meeting and you’ll regret ever knowing Jake. You don’t regret that, do you?’ he said, tilting her face to look at her.

‘No,’ she said tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Or maybe yes. I don’t know. It hurts so much and I want to see him again so badly.

As much as he might have liked to tell her she would Erik wasn’t going to lie to her, so he pulled her head back to his shoulder and held her as she cried.

‘I’m sorry, I’m being so selfish when you’ve just lost Danny the way you have,’ she said, hugging him.

‘So did you,’ he reminded her. His tears were flowing freely now and they laughed at each other for the spectacle they must be making of themselves.

‘You really did love her, didn’t you?’ Louisa said.

‘Yes,’ he smiled. ‘I really did. ‘She was …’ He laughed and summing up all the things he wanted to say about her he said, ‘She was unique.’

Louisa nodded. ‘Yes, she was. I wish we could go to her funeral, but unless some miracle happens and the police give us back our passports …’

‘Why don’t we sit for a while?’ Erik said, pulling her down onto the sand. ‘It’s so peaceful here with so few people around.’

They sat for some time, hugging their knees and watching the tide froth and lap around their feet.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at the sea again without thinking of Jake,’ Louisa said sadly. She let several minutes tick by then said, ‘Have you heard from him at all, Erik? I know I asked you not to tell me if you did, but I want to know now.’

‘Yes, I’ve spoken to him,’ Erik answered. ‘He’s getting his statement flown over to say you were with him the morning Danny died.’

Louisa swallowed hard. ‘How is he?’ she said. ‘Has he found Martina yet?’

‘Not yet. It takes time to do this sort of deal and the people who are holding her will want to make sure that everything is going according to their plans before they hand her over.’

‘Poor Jake, it must be terrible for him, being so close and yet still not being able to see her. Do you think he’s afraid to see her? I know I would be if I were him.’

‘Yes, he’s afraid. He’s afraid of what Consuela will do if she discovers that Martina’s kidnappers are negotiating her release. He’s afraid of how Martina might have been treated, of what damage it might have done to her mind and to his little girl’s. It’ll be a long time before they’ll be able to put the trauma of all this behind them.’

‘Yes, it will,’ Louisa whispered, feeling herself recoil from any thought of time passing when all she wanted was to go back.

‘Did you ever find out who the man was at Consuela’s pretending to be his father?’ she said after a moment.

‘No,’ Erik sighed. ‘I didn’t speak to Danny at all after that. I tried, but she was never there.’

‘Well, whoever he was he had Danny pretty convinced he was Jake’s father. What’s Jake’s father like? Have you ever met him?’

Erik smiled. ‘He’s like Jake, but older.’

‘What happened to his mother?’

‘She died, about a year ago now.’

‘Oh no,’ she groaned, weighed down by sadness for him. ‘What a terrible time in his life this has been.’

‘I know, it’s a wonder he’s still sane.’

Watching her feet sink deeper and deeper into the sand Louisa felt the same burying sensation of pain in her heart. Then she raised her eyes to gaze out across the shimmering orange sea to where the rising sun was emerging from the horizon, bringing with it another day. ‘I wonder what he’s doing now,’ she said softly.

The room was totally silent as it had been for the past hour. Tendrils of cigarette smoke languished in the faintly perfumed air. Every so often a match flared as someone lit up and once or twice one of them got up, stretched, and went to use the bathroom. Outside the ground floor suite the hustle and bustle of hotel life went on regardless, waiters wheeling trolleys through the exotic, landscaped gardens, the click of high heels on the winding concrete pathways, an incessant stream of Spanish coming from the suite next door. The light inside the room was growing dim, casting long shadows through the arches that separated the sitting area from the bedroom.

All four men were unshaven, all four had dark rings of exhaustion around their eyes. Jake was the only American, the others, Fernando, his assistant Javier, and Pedro were Mexican. The index finger of Pedro’s right hand was still bandaged, there were faint marks on his decrepit, old man’s face from the beating he had taken.

Pedro’s bloodshot eyes moved warily towards the phones on the glass-topped table. They were like the Americano, silent, impenetrable, unpredictable. Throughout that long day only one had been used, the other two waited, as they were waiting.

Pedro’s eyes moved on, coming to rest on the sweeping curve of the window. The shadows of night were claiming Guadalajara. His brother should be there by now. His brother should pick up the phone any second.

Javier snored and Pedro’s eyes darted to his drooping figure in the corner. Using his foot Fernando flicked Javier’s ankle from his knee, jerking him forward and waking him. Javier ran a hand over the stubble on his chin.

Pedro knew that the Americano’s eyes were watching him from beneath their lowered lids. He didn’t like the Americano’s eyes, they seemed to bore right into his soul. Pedro wanted to be out of here. He wanted the money and then he wanted out of here. His brother should be there by now.

Another hour passed. Javier munched a pack of Doritos, Fernando ordered room service. When the food came the Americano didn’t eat. Pedro ate, but the shrimps dried on his tongue under the Americano’s gaze.

Javier flicked through the TV channels, then threw the remote on the bed and tore open the door to swear in Spanish at the noisy, key-jangling maids.

Suddenly a telephone exploded into life. Everyone jarred. It was the wrong phone and everyone relaxed. The Americano got up from the bed.

As he spoke Jake’s eyes relinquished their hold on Pedro.

‘Yes, it’s me,’ Jake said, hearing Erik’s voice.

‘Any news?’ Erik asked.

‘No. How are things your end?’

‘Hard to tell. Something’s got to break soon though.’

‘Are you in the clear?’

‘Let’s put it this way, they haven’t arrested me yet.’

Jake frowned. He was in no mood for humour. ‘What’s the latest on Morandi?’

‘The charges still stand.’

Jake paused for a moment as he thought. ‘Still nothing on Consuela?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘Where’s Louisa?’

‘At Jean-Claude’s.’

‘OK. You know what to do if …’

‘I know what to do,’ Erik interrupted. ‘Any message for her?’

Jake stared blindly at the dry logs in the hearth. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just keep her away from Consuela. I’ll call you in a couple of days.’

Putting the receiver down Jake picked up a can of beer and cracked it open. His eyes had returned to Pedro and Pedro’s hand twitched with the desire to cross himself as he inwardly prayed that his brother was picking up the phone right now.

The storm would be sure to break tonight, Consuela was thinking, as she wiped a handkerchief around her neck and gazed out of her bedroom window at the swirling clouds. Please God, let it break, for this humidity was unbearable. She wondered what it was like in Mexico, if the heat was getting to Jake the same way, then sighing through clenched teeth she dropped her forehead against the cool pane of glass.

The call telling her he’d made it there had come two hours ago, but still she hadn’t heard from the people holding Martina. But they would call, she told herself. As soon as they got her message they’d be in touch for she was prepared to match what Jake was offering and half as much again. They wouldn’t be able to resist that and they knew she’d be true to her word, she’d never let them down yet. And Jake was an unknown quantity, they wouldn’t know if they could trust him, so they’d be sure to want to continue to do business with her.

That’s what Martina was to them, a business. It had kept them in tequila and tortillas, smart American suits, flashy European cars and luxurious haciendas for over three years now, they wouldn’t risk giving that up. Please God, they wouldn’t take that risk, for whatever else happened in this unholy mess, Martina must not be returned to Jake.

Seeing Marianne’s white Golf coming up the drive Consuela took a fresh handkerchief from a drawer and wandered back to the bed to lie down. She was wearing a thin, cotton night-gown, much like a hospital gown, her face was colourless, her eyes red-rimmed and sore. Poor Frederico, he was so worried about her, was fussing around her like a mother hen, keeping the other boys at bay and seeing to the running of the house. He was so loyal and so capable, thank God he was there, for these had been difficult days, the most difficult since Martina’s kidnap from the boat. Consuela wished to God now that she’d never let it be known that Martina was still alive. She’d only done it to torment Jake, but no matter how passionately or convincingly she’d denied it since he still hadn’t given up the search.

She looked across to the door as Marianne came in.

‘How are you?’ Marianne asked, moving to the bed and sitting on the edge.

‘I’m fine,’ Consuela said weakly, wrapping Marianne’s hand in hers. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Just for a drive. I needed to get out for a while.’

‘Did you manage to speak to Louisa?’

Marianne shook her head. ‘No. Erik is with her all the time. I can’t get her alone.’ Her eyes lost focus for a second as she lifted them to the satin draperies of the bedhead. ‘I keep asking myself what they want with her now,’ she said quietly.

‘Maybe they don’t want anything with her,’ Consuela said. She turned her head on the pillow and stared out at the milling clouds. ‘If only the police would let her go back to her own country she would be safe then. Why won’t they, do you know?’

‘Erik says it’s because she was with Jake the morning Danny was killed and now that Jake’s no longer here he can’t bear witness to that.’

‘But why should it matter where she was that morning?’ Consuela said, confused.

‘I don’t know,’ Marianne confessed. ‘But apparently there was some kind of a fight between Danny and Louisa the night before and Louisa threatened Danny with a knife.’

‘Oh là là,’ Consuela murmured. ‘So now Louisa has to account for all her movements before they will let her go?’

‘I imagine that’s the case,’ Marianne said, lowering her gaze to their entwined fingers. ‘Erik says Jake’s statement is on its way, but we’ve only got Erik’s word for all this and …’ She got up, suddenly agitated, and walked across the room.

‘What is it?’ Consuela said gently.

‘It’s just … It’s just that I can’t make myself believe that Erik would have done that to Danny,’ Marianne answered in a pained and bewildered voice. ‘He could never have got from the airport in time and besides, I just can’t believe he’s the sort of man who would kill someone simply because Jake told him to. It doesn’t make sense, not when Erik’s who he is, when he has an international reputation …’

‘You’ve never heard the story of how they met, have you?’ Consuela said wearily. She seemed to let her mind wander for a moment, then said. ‘They were young offenders both of them way back in their teens, in New York. They met in some kind of correctional facility and they’ve been as close, or as the English say, as thick as thieves, ever since. I don’t think there’s much they wouldn’t do for each other, they both have souls as black as a demon’s and faces and charm to sway any girl’s heart.’

Marianne dropped her head, letting her hair curtain her face. This was all so confusing, she didn’t know who to believe any more, who to turn to for advice and she felt so caught in the middle that it was like standing at the centre of a street where it was only a matter of time before disaster struck.

‘I just wish I could speak to Louisa alone,’ she mumbled. ‘The trouble is, now that she knows about you and me I don’t think she’d trust me. There doesn’t, as far as I can make out, appear to be even a fraction of doubt in her mind about Jake. She truly believes everything he’s told her about Martina, she even believes that Martina is alive.’

Consuela’s eyes closed for a moment, then summoning a smile she held a hand out towards Marianne. ‘Come and sit down, chérie,’ she said, patting the bed. ‘Sit down here and listen to what I am going to tell you.’

By the time Consuela had finished Marianne had curled herself into a ball and was resting her head in Consuela’s lap. Had she been looking into Consuela’s eyes she might have felt a moment or two of unease, but no more than that. As it was, her only thought was for Louisa and how she could get Louisa away from them all.

‘Louisa! For God’s sake, what’s the matter?’ Sarah cried, as Louisa got out of her car looking so shaken she seemed almost on the point of collapse.

‘Nothing,’ Louisa mumbled. ‘It was nothing …’ Then throwing her arms around Sarah she clung to her as if terrified Sarah might leave her.

‘What is it?’ Sarah pleaded. ‘What’s happened? Where have you been?’

‘I went to Antibes,’ Louisa said shakily. ‘I bought some things in the market there …’

‘Yes,’ Sarah said, holding her by the shoulders and encouraging her to go on.

‘Then I was walking back down the hill, towards my car,’ Louisa said haltingly, ‘and I saw … Oh Sarah, I thought I saw Danny.’

Sarah’s eyes rounded with horror, then pulling Louisa back into her arms she said, ‘This has all been such a strain. It’s a bloody nightmare, it’s no wonder you’re seeing things … Oh, poor Louisa. Poor, poor Louisa. Come on, come inside, I’ll make you some tea.’

‘Sarah,’ Louisa said, stopping her. ‘She saw me too. She saw me and … She waved, Sarah. She waved at me.’

Sarah’s face creased with concern as her heart thudded with alarm. ‘We’d better speak to Jean-Claude about getting you to a doctor,’ she said gently. ‘You must have something to help you sleep or you’re going to make yourself ill.’

Louisa allowed herself to be led into the house and a few minutes later she, Sarah, Jean-Claude and Didier were sitting on the terrace drinking coffee. Louisa was feeling a bit stronger now, the shock was wearing off and she could almost raise a smile at the way she’d dropped her shopping in the middle of the street, allowing it to scatter and roll down the hill as she’d stood there staring into the café. Then she’d run, as fast as she could through the crowds, to her car.

‘I feel such a fool now,’ she said self-consciously. ‘I mean, obviously it wasn’t Danny. But it looked so much like her. And you know, the strange thing was, at first, when I first saw her, I almost went running over to her. Then I remembered that she was dead and I felt this horrible panic come over me.’

‘It’s not unusual after a bereavement to think you are seeing the person you ’ave lost,’ Jean-Claude remarked solemnly. ‘But I think Sarah is right, we should get the doctor to give you something to ’elp you sleep.’

‘Did you see her face?’ Sarah asked.

Louisa shook her head. ‘Not really. Whoever she was, she was sitting with some other people inside the café. But then, when she looked up and saw me and then waved … Well, that was when I dropped my shopping and ran. What an idiot,’ she grimaced, shaking her head. ‘Obviously the woman must have been waving to someone behind me, but I didn’t think of that. All I thought was that I was seeing a ghost.’

They all smiled politely, then sat staring thoughtfully into their cups until a rumble of thunder growled through the swelling, darkening clouds, bringing their heads up.

‘I wish this storm would break,’ Sarah sighed. ‘It’s been hanging around like this for two days now.’

‘It’ll be a bad one when it comes,’ Jean-Claude warned. ‘There is very much electricity in the air.’

‘Where’s Erik?’ Louisa asked.

‘He popped over to Monaco to pick up some things from his apartment,’ Sarah answered. ‘He’ll be back later. He told me he spoke to Jake again early this morning. They still haven’t got to Martina.’

Louisa pressed her lips together and returned her eyes to the dregs in her cup. ‘Did Jake say anything else, do you know?’ she asked, knowing it was selfish to be thinking of herself when he was going through such a terrible ordeal, but she couldn’t help it.

‘I don’t know,’ Sarah answered. ‘But I’m sure Erik will tell you if there’s a message for you.’

‘There won’t be,’ Louisa stated flatly. ‘It’s over now, he won’t send messages because he knows that if he does it’ll just keep my feelings alive.’ She looked up and forcing herself to smile she said. ‘What news is there on Morandi?’

‘The same,’ Sarah sighed. ‘He’s still sitting there terrified out of his mind that he’s never going to get out and even more terrified of what’s going to happen to his kids if he doesn’t.’

Jean-Claude looked around the table and seeing so many glum faces he said, ‘Who’s for a game of scrabble?’

Everyone was, for it was one of the few things that could make them laugh right now, since Jean-Claude and Didier played in French and Sarah and Louisa played in English – and all four of them cheated like crazy. But the best thing about it was that it helped take their minds off the way the entire world seemed to be taking a pause, holding its breath, and waiting for the storm to break.

It was just after lunch when the telephone rang and Jean-Claude passed it to Sarah. ‘It’s Morandi,’ he told her, returning to the terrace where at last Louisa was sleeping, albeit fitfully, in a reclining armchair.

Didier was down by the pool collecting the cushions from the garden furniture before it rained and as Sarah went inside Jean-Claude sat down at the table, returning to the reports his accountant had sent him and wondering if he could put off going into Cannes. Probably not, he thought, seeing that several of the documents needed signing urgently. A few minutes later he looked up as Erik pulled into the drive at the same instant as Sarah came out of the kitchen and stared at him with a beaming, yet incredulous smile.

‘They’re letting him go,’ she declared. ‘He just told me they’re letting him go.’

‘But that is wonderful,’ Jean-Claude exclaimed.

‘What is?’ Erik said, walking up the steps to the terrace and dropping his keys on the table.

‘They are releasing Morandi,’ Jean-Claude answered.

Erik turned to Sarah, eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘When did you hear?’

‘Just. He called to ask me to go and pick him up.’

‘Does that mean they know who killed Aphrodite?’ Erik said.

‘I don’t know. All he said was that he is no longer a suspect and they are letting him go.’

‘So what are you waiting for?’ Erik laughed. ‘Go get the man.’

But Sarah didn’t move. She was looking at Louisa and wondering how the hell she was going to break the rest of the news to her. Morandi was being released, she was to go and pick him up, collecting her passport at the same time then the two of them were to be out of France by the end of the day. But how was she going to leave Louisa when Louisa was in such a bad way?

‘It’s OK,’ Erik said, putting a comforting arm around her when she explained. ‘I’ll take care of Louisa. You just get Morandi out of here and back to those kids of his and think yourself lucky to be out of it all.’

Sarah nodded, but the terrible guilt and fear she felt at leaving Louisa was crushing. ‘Will you come with me over to the villa to pack up my things?’ she said, turning to Jean-Claude. She couldn’t ask Erik because she couldn’t put him through the pain of having to walk into that villa again.

‘It’s OK, I’ll take you,’ Erik said, turning to gaze across at the shuttered villa.

‘But I don’t understand why they’re not letting me go too,’ Louisa cried as she and Erik sped along the autoroute back towards Antibes. They’d spent the past hour at the police station in Nice waiting for someone to come and explain why her passport wasn’t being returned and now Louisa’s nerves were so on edge and her frustration was at such a pitch she wanted to scream.

‘They will,’ Erik assured her, ‘just as soon as Jake’s statement gets here.’

‘But why is it taking so long?’

‘Nothing in this country moves fast, except the drivers,’ Erik answered, but it raised not a glimmer of a smile from either of them.

‘I hate this bloody country,’ Louisa said angrily. ‘I hate it. If they hadn’t kept us waiting so damned long at that police station we’d have been at the airport in time to see Sarah off. Why the hell didn’t she wake me up before she went to get him, is what I want to know?’

‘We thought it best to let you sleep on for a while.’ Erik answered. ‘We assumed I’d be able to get you to the airport, hopefully in time for the same flight if your passport had been released. But she’ll call you as soon as she gets to England, I’m sure.’

Louisa sat quietly then, staring out of the window and wishing she didn’t feel so sick and so afraid. If only Jake were there, she knew she wouldn’t feel half as bad, but it did her no good to think that way so she tried to push him from her mind and think about something else.

‘I started to pack up some of your things when I was over at the villa with Sarah,’ Erik said, glancing across at her. ‘Do you think you’re up to finishing it off, or would you rather leave it for a while?’

‘No, I’ll do it when we get back,’ she answered. ‘I want to be ready to get out of here just as soon as they let me. What are we going to do about Sarah’s car? We can’t just leave it at the airport.’

‘We’ll have to until she sends the keys down for us to collect it,’ Erik answered. ‘I imagine she’ll kick herself when she looks in her bag and realizes she forgot to leave them.’

He stopped at the péage in Antibes, tossed some coins into the net and drove on through the barrier, turning up towards Valanjou. When they got there it was to find a note from Jean-Claude telling them that he and Didier had gone to Cannes.

‘Are you sure you feel up to this?’ Erik said as he and Louisa walked in through the gates of the villa opposite.

Louisa nodded and swallowed hard. Whatever she did she mustn’t look at the pool, but to her dismay she found that just the innocuous stillness of the villa’s creamy walls and white, slatted shutters was unsettling her. The thought of the hidden, darkened interior was even more daunting and she expected, at any minute, to find herself turning back.

As he inserted the key in the lock Erik gave her hand a quick squeeze. ‘Come on,’ he smiled, ‘it’ll all be over with before you know it.’

Louisa stepped in through the door and as Erik flicked on the lights she felt her heart start to pound. She hadn’t really known what she’d expected to find inside, but that everything was so clean and neat and exactly the way it had always been was somehow as unnerving as it seemed irreverent. She didn’t know where exactly Danny had been stabbed before being thrown into the pool, but the trail of blood from the terrace had told her that something had happened inside the house. It was hard to make herself accept that having borne witness to such a terrible act the house could remain so unchanged and as her eyes swept through the arches, over the large clumpy furniture, the glass tables and ornate chests she felt a shiver of unease run down her spine. It was as though the house had somehow soaked the events into its ambience, making them invisible now, invisible, but still there, heavy, ominous, grisly in the silent, stuffy air.

‘I don’t know if I can go any further,’ she said, turning back to Erik as he closed the door.

‘OK,’ he said, putting his arms around her. ‘Just give yourself a minute, then if you still feel the same way we’ll go back.’

She stood quietly in his arms for a moment, then slowly started to shake her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, steeling herself bravely. ‘I’m being feeble, come on, let’s get it done,’ and taking his hand she led him past the table that no longer bore any trace of Danny’s blood, and up the small staircase to what had just a week ago been her room.

‘I made a start on your study,’ Erik said when they reached the door. ‘Shall I go on with that?’

Louisa nodded and smiled. ‘Thanks.’ Then watching him disappear into the study she turned and taking a deep breath pushed open her bedroom door and turned on the light.

Everything was exactly as she’d left it.

Walking over to the bed she hauled out her suitcase from underneath then laid it open across the lace duvet cover. Overhead the thunder continued to grumble.

Louisa stood where she was, looking at the cupboards. She was afraid to open them, she realized, afraid of what she might find inside. Then telling herself to stop being ridiculous she marched over to them and pulled them open. There were her clothes hanging just as she’d left them, swaying slightly in the draught caused by the doors opening.

Humming tunelessly to fill the silence she started to take them from the hangers, folding them and carrying them over to the bed.

‘Do you want to put these in your case?’ Erik said, startling her as he came into the room. He was holding up the power cables for her portable computer.

‘Oh yes, yes please,’ she said taking them from him.

‘Why don’t you open the shutters and let some air in here while you pack?’ he suggested.

Louisa looked at him, not knowing how to tell him that she didn’t want to see the pool.

‘Here, I’ll do it for you,’ he said, walking to the window, pulling it open then throwing out the shutters.

‘Thanks,’ she said breathlessly.

Fifteen minutes later she was all packed and the few possessions she’d had in the study were piled on the landing between the two rooms.

‘Here, let me take that,’ Erik said as she snapped her suitcase closed, and heaving it from the bed he laughed. ‘You women, I sometimes wonder how you’d manage if you didn’t have us guys to do the lifting for you. Are you ready?’

‘Yes,’ she nodded, turning off the light as she followed him from the room.

They were halfway down the stairs when Erik suddenly remembered they’d left the shutters open. He was so laden down with her suitcase and computer and a holdall that Louisa had no choice but to say she would go back to close them.

When she got to the window she closed her eyes, reached out for the shutters and pulled them together. Then fastening the catch on the window she turned back and almost leapt from her skin when she saw Erik standing at the door.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. Anything else to come?’

‘No,’ she answered, and casting one last look around she followed him back down the stairs.

‘There, that wasn’t so bad was it?’ he said when they got outside.

‘No,’ she smiled, letting her breath go slowly and not adding that never again in her life would she go into a house where someone had been murdered.

‘I see,’ Consuela was saying into the phone. ‘And where is he now?’

As she listened to the reply her eyes flickered towards the man who was watching her. ‘En route to Posada Barrancas,’ she repeated. ‘What time will he get there? Yes, yes, I understand. When he arrives give him a message from me. Tell him that if he goes anywhere near my daughter he will be shot. There will be no questions asked, he will simply be shot dead.’ Again she listened. ‘Yes, I have made the arrangements. The money will be there for you by tomorrow. I’ve never let you down before. Yes, I know it’s a lot of money, but this is my daughter and my granddaughter we’re discussing. Call me back when he gets to Posada Barrancas. And remember to give him my message.’

As she replaced the receiver Marianne came into the room. Consuela walked over to her and putting her hands on Marianne’s shoulders she said in a tone so grave that Marianne’s skin prickled, ‘You must go for Louisa, Marianne. You must go for her now. This has all become very serious and there isn’t much time. I have just heard, ten minutes ago, that Morandi and Sarah have not arrived in England.’

Marianne’s face drained.

‘Please, go for Louisa,’ Consuela said urgently.

‘But how am I going to make her come?’ Marianne said helplessly.

Consuela glanced back over her shoulder to the man standing behind her. ‘David will go with you,’ she said as he nodded. ‘He will persuade Louisa. Now please, go and get her. Don’t bring her here, it will only frighten her. Take her somewhere where she will feel safe. But don’t lose any time, Marianne. Jake has got very close to Martina now and if he should get to her then it won’t only be Martina’s life that is in jeopardy, Louisa’s will be too.’

‘But why?’ Marianne cried. ‘I don’t understand. Please explain why.’

‘There isn’t time now,’ Consuela answered. ‘David will go with you, he will explain on the way.’

Marianne turned to him, then quickly snatching up her keys she said, ‘No, I’ll go alone.’