Helene soon had some information for Dominic, and sent him a long e-mail. When he went to Catherine's to pass on the details he found Selina there, having coffee.
'There's nothing really useful yet, just background. Apparently Livermore is the son of a barmaid, or at least that is what she claims she was, father unknown. She's around seventy, lives in Hampshire, near Aldershot, so the implication is his father was a serviceman. Her present sources of income are not obvious. Livermore may be funding her, she's a bit long in the tooth for her former presumed sideline, though she says she has been married three times. He's got a house in Surrey, not far from Mum, and rents a flat in Spain. Unfortunately there's no information on the people who have hired the yacht.'
'Barmaids are in the news,' Selina said, chuckling. 'Bernie's father dropped a brick the other day mentioning he and the upright Major had been enamoured of one years ago. I thought the Major would have a fit, he got so red, and was spluttering in fury trying to deny it! But have you any actual dirt on Livermore?'
'Nothing concrete. He's been involved in one or two nasty scandals with women, but so far has avoided being cited in the divorce courts. Helene suggests it is only a matter of time before he is.'
'Has he ever been married?' Selina asked.
'Not according to Helene's information. She says he appears to be too canny, and after a couple of affairs with married women seemed to shy away from them. His taste is for the young and nubile, according to my source. Pursues them relentlessly for a month or so until they begin to dream of wedding bells, and then vanishes into the mist.'
'Hey, that's my line, waxing lyrical!' Selina protested, laughing.
'So it is. How's the book? Any progress?'
'I've staggered as far as Chapter three, rewriting, editing, but real life has been more exciting lately. Somehow I don't think I'm going to make a fortune scribbling heart-throb romances! Real ones are more intriguing. How old is Livermore? He's about the same age as Justin, isn't he, Catherine?'
'A few years older, I believe. He was playing on the golfing circuit before Justin joined it. So far as I know he was one of these juvenile progidies who never made it in the main tournaments.'
'Did Helene discover anything else?'
Dominic shook his head.
'She's going to try and find out more about his business interests.'
*
Two days later, early in the morning, Catherine went shopping in Funchal's colourful indoor market. She was looking down from the balcony onto the fish stalls and marvelling at their prolific displays, particularly the long espada, rather like swordfish, dredged from the deeps, when Dominic appeared at her side.
'They have such wicked looking heads, with those enormous eyes and so many teeth,' she said. 'They fascinate me, even though I much prefer looking at all the gorgeous fruit and vegetables. I was wondering if I could use it as an idea for a mask, though. The more ghoulish kids would love it.'
'Did you know they're found only in Japan, apart from Madeira? We've never been able to study a live one, they die as the pressure reduces when they are pulled up. Catherine, I've had news.'
'From Helene? More news?'
'It wasn't from her. A friend, a golfing fellow, tells me Livermore's friend's yacht has come back.'
'To Funchal? Have you seen him?'
'Not Funchal. That's what's puzzling, apart from the fact that we'll all be looking for him here. The boat's anchored at the far end of the island, off Porto Moniz. I assume they needed to come back for some reason, but didn't want it known.'
'Isn't that the place with the volcanic rock pools and the razor-sharp rocks? I went there a few years ago.'
'Can you drive me? I still can't drive with this wretched arm. I rang your mother when I couldn't get through to you and she told me you'd be here.'
'Yes, of course. Dad's car's in the multi-storey and he doesn't want it today. Let's get started. We can get there for lunchtime.'
'Plenty of good restaurants there in the town. It's a regular stop on the coach trips from cruise ships.'
'I don't know this side of the island too well,' Catherine said as she headed along the wide Avenida do Mar.
'Take the Via Rapida to Ribeira Brava, then north. That's the way we went to the Pousada, but don't take the local road. There are fast new tunnels to Sao Vicente, and along the coast. Before they were built the only road was a narrow shelf, a cliff to one side, a sheer drop into the sea on the other. It's closed off now, thank goodness. Only cars and small vans could go along it, not the big tourist coaches that go that way now.'
Even though much of the journey was in tunnels, Catherine enjoyed what she could see of the spectacular scenery. At every hairpin bend a yet more splendid vista opened out before them, of cliffs and seascapes, clouds and waterfalls, tiny villages or single houses clinging to the sides of mountains, and precipitous slopes on which generations of Madeirans had scraped out hundreds of incredibly tiny terraces on which they grew their crops. Everywhere tropical flowers that cost a fortune in London florists' shops grew like weeds.
'Look at that house, there are banana plants right outside the window, and vines growing all up the walls,' Catherine exclaimed.
Dominic grinned. 'See that little hut by the trees? That's one of the cattle sheds. The cows are kept in them, there's almost no room for grazing, and they'd fall off the terraces anyway, they're so steep. You generally only see tethered goats out grazing apart from on the Paul da Serra.'
With similar comments he kept her mind off what they might discover at the far end of the island. Soon they drove into Porto Moniz, and Dominic directed her to park in a small car park overlooking the rock pools for which the little town was famous.
Catherine jumped out and went to lean over the wall. The volcanic rock, black and razor-sharp, enclosed a myriad of tiny pools. Some were wide and the water in them smooth and inviting, others were small and the sea lashed the steep sides angrily, creating minor whirlpools and splashing spray high up the viciously carved walls. A swimming pool had been constructed by filling in gaps between some of the rocks. She raised her eyes to look beyond it but there was no yacht visible this side of the headland.
Dominic strolled across to speak with an ancient Madeiran sitting on the sea wall. The old man stared, shrugged, then pointed back the way they'd come. Catherine went to join Dominic as he thanked the man and turned towards her.
'They were here yesterday. I'm sorry, Catherine, they left this morning, as soon as it was light.'
'Does he know who was on board?'
'No, but his son runs a taxi and was called out to take a couple, a man and woman, somewhere. He doesn't know where, but when his son comes back we can ask him. Let's go and have lunch.'
Catherine contained her impatience as well as she could while they ate deliciously fresh fish in one of the town's restaurants. They explored the shore, looking through the natural arches into otherwise inaccessible pools, and wandered amongst the bigger ones where the rocks were flatter and wider, and concrete paths made walking on them possible. At last the taxi they were waiting for arrived. They had scrutinized every car eagerly, but this time the old man, who was still sitting on the wall, waved to them, beckoning.
'You took some people from the yacht somewhere, I believe?' Dominic asked the young man who had joined his elderly father. 'An Englishman. We're trying to find them.'
'They went to Curral das Freiras,' he replied, smiling.
'Curral? But why?' Dominic asked blankly.
The taxi driver grinned and winked. 'If I had such a beautiful companion I'd like to steal away to a secret hideaway,' he said, licking his lips.
'What was the girl like?' Dominic asked. Was it the one Livermore had brought to his mother's party?
'Not very tall, dark, and a figure to dream about. Very few clothes,' he added, and laughed.
'Was she a foreigner?'
'Yes. English, the old goat.'
'He was old?' Catherine asked.
'I think he looked older than he was,' the man replied thoughtfully. 'His face was lined, his eyes were tired. His hair was long and black. He may have been forty – not more than fifty, I suppose.'
It could have been Livermore.
'Where did you take them? Is there an hotel at Curral?'
He turned back and leered at Dominic.
'They went to a small house, a new one, owned by an American, I think. I could not drive all the way, it is along a small track. They had just a couple of small cases. But I don't suppose they'd be spending much time out of – that is, there are few places to go in Curral. It's the end of the world.'
He gave Dominic directions how to find the house, and they thanked him and walked back to the car.
'It sounds like Livermore,' Catherine said. 'Isn't Curral das Freiras the village at the bottom of the volcano crater?'
'Yes, where the nuns of Santa Clara found refuge from pirates. We have to go right back into Funchal and out again. It's too late to go today, it will be dark before we get back to Funchal.'
'And you ought not to confront him on your own, it would be dangerous,' Catherine said, belatedly aware of Dominic's injury.
'I'll round up a posse, don't worry. But I'm looking forward to seeing that man again! Now we'd better go home.'
*
'Will you come in and have a drink?' Catherine asked as she stopped the car outside her villa.
'Not now, thanks. I'd better get home and change. My mother has some friends for dinner, and I promised to be there. I'll ring when I have some news. See you.'
She stood and watched him walk up the hill. Helene was a fool, she thought suddenly, to abandon him in favour of a job, however prestigious. He was one of the kindest, most unassuming men she'd met for years. Then she laughed at herself. How many men had she met? Almost anyone would compare favourably with Justin and Livermore.
As she reached the front door it opened. Her mother stood there, holding it, her expression bemused.
'Hurry, Catherine, you're both coming to have dinner with us and it's been ready for hours. Your father will be apoplectic if I don't go back and serve it at once.'
The Major wanted to know where she had been, so she told him about the sighting of the yacht, and that they thought Livermore was holed up in Curral das Freiras.
'It means the shelter of the nuns.'
'I've heard about that. But why is it so isolated?' Fiona asked. 'More than anywhere else in Madeira, I mean.'
'It's deep in a crater made by the extinct volcano,' Catherine explained. 'The nuns from Santa Clara found it apparently when they went inland to escape sixteenth century pirates. Dominic was telling me they've only been able to reach it by road in the last few years. Otherwise there were just difficult mountain tracks leading to it. The place Livermore has borrowed is some way along one of these tracks, from what the taxi driver who took him there said.'
'And you say Dominic is going there tomorrow? What does he hope to achieve?'
'I'm not sure. He can scarcely indulge in a fight, with his broken arm. Not that he would, that's not his way.'
'And if they do, they'll be in the wrong,' the Major said. 'But I would like to give that scoundrel a piece of my mind. Will there be room for me to join the party?'
'It's too dangerous,' Margaret said, looking worried.
'He'll take some friends, he said. Bernie will want to go. Peter too, and John. They'll borrow a jeep, to manage on the track.'
'Then there'll be room for me too.'
*
Bernie was ready, just, when the borrowed jeep appeared.
'We're to pick Peter up at Reid's.'
'This gets more like a thriller by the day,' Selina said. 'I wish I could come. I'd love to see that man's face when you all arrive.'
'Stay at home like a good little wifey,' Bernie said, grinning at her.
They took the road which snaked up through the forests covering the mountainsides. No one talked, and Bernie gathered that Dominic had no plan other than to find and talk to Livermore. Quite what good that would do he failed to see. Then Dominic suddenly spoke.
'Pull in, Dad. We can have a look at the valley from up here, see if we can pinpoint the house he's using.'
John steered the jeep into a small parking area between a couple of coaches from which tourists were clambering. Before Bernie had time to admire the soaring mountains all around them, Dominic was leading the way along a path through the trees, and he hastened to follow. At the end they had a superb view of the crater floor. It was like looking down into a wide-necked green vase, its sides deeply fissured, planted with a miniature village on the base far below. Houses were dotted about on the floor of the valley, and the road wound amongst them.
Dominic produced a large-scale map and binoculars. For several minutes he alternately poured over the map and then concentrated on a section of the valley immediately opposite where they stood.
'Look, that's it,' he said at last, handing the binoculars to his father. 'Just along that track behind the house with the red roof. There's a newish house with big windows and a paved patio. I think I can find it once we're down there. But I suspect it's too narrow even for the jeep. We'll have to approach on foot.'
'Let's go then.'
It took far longer than Bernie had expected to negotiate the steep, winding descent. At last John parked the jeep near some shops and they began to walk. The paved road soon deteriorated into a dirt track just wide enough to allow a laden donkey access. After ten minutes, walking slightly uphill, they came to the house Dominic had seen. The windows were wide open and on the patio were two comfortable loungers. Livermore and a girl, both completely naked, sprawled face down on them, apparently fast asleep.
Memories of the resulting fracas made Bernie grin hours later. Dominic, his normally calm expression transformed, stormed up to Livermore and shook him awake. Bleary-eyed, and clearly suffering a hangover, Livermore struggled to escape from his restraining grasp. Then he had become aggressive and started lashing out at Dominic, upon which the Major and John, displaying unexpected skills, immobilized Livermore by an arm-lock before Bernie, somewhat to his disappointment, could join in the fight.
'Now, I want some answers,' Dominic said when Livermore had been tied to a chair. He was spitting with fury and threatening all sorts of reprisals. The girl had run into the house, shrieking and clutching an inadequate t-shirt to her.
'I'll go and talk to her, we don't want her phoning for reinforcements,' John said, and followed her indoors.
'I should have been quicker to offer,' Bernie said, but the others took no notice. They were concentrating on Livermore.
'Why did you abduct me on that yacht? What was the purpose? And I'd be glad to have my wallet and phone returned.'
'In your dreams, Thorn! You've been dreaming, man. We never abducted you or took you on the yacht.'
Short of beating it out of him they could get no further. After these first responses he maintained a contemptuous silence.
'Should have tarred and feathered him!' the Major said curtly as, realising they could get no further, they retreated, having said the police were keeping a lookout for the yacht, and any further attacks would find him in court.
John had fared better with the girl, which made them all feel the trip had not been wasted.
'She said she didn't know why, but Keithy was mad at Dominic and said he wanted to drop him overboard, but the Captain, as she called him, said that would lead to more trouble, and they'd just dump him somewhere. Livermore suggested one of the Desertas, saying he might not be found there for days, but the Captain said he wasn't going to risk that, his yacht would be too easy to trace. They wouldn't bother unless the fellow died, but in that case the police would surely find him.'
'You did a lot better than we did.'
'What will he do?' Bernie asked.
'Get out as fast as he can, I hope,' Dominic said. 'He'll want to get back to where he's in control, with lots of adoring sycophants.'
And the whole distressing episode would be over, Catherine thought with a sigh of relief, when they returned to Funchal and reported to the waiting women.
*