Monty and Valentino stared back towards Caroline, stunned and motionless for a few seconds before Monty shouted something to Valentino and he dashed across to the rear of the boat and began frantically tugging at something. It was the boat’s motor.
Both women were now racing down the jetty ramp towards the boat but by the time they got close he had sparked the engine to life, released the rope from its buoy and the runabout was spurting away, heading out to sea, out into the murky darkness. Within seconds it had disappeared from sight.
“Noooooooooo!” screamed Caroline, dropping to her knees, one hand across her mouth, sobbing hysterically. “No, no, no, please, I just want Max!”
Roxy had reached Caroline and was pulling her up. “Come on, we need to follow them!”
Caroline looked like she was in a daze now, so Roxy rushed past her and jumped into the first vessel she found. Damn it! It had no motor. She jumped back out, nearly toppling into the water as she did so, then corrected herself and ran down the jetty a little farther until she spotted a small dinghy with an outboard motor. She threw herself into it and stared at it. How the hell did you start the thing?
“Get out of the way!” screamed Caroline who had caught up with her and had already released the connecting rope. She reached across the stern and pulled at some kind of lever, ensuring it was straight. Next she pulled out the choke, turned the hand grip on the throttle and yanked at the starter rope. It spluttered for a few seconds then died.
“Bugger it!” she said then took a deep breath and tried again, slower this time, and the engine suddenly roared to life. “That’s more like it.” When she spotted Roxy’s look of wide-eyed surprise, she added, “That’s how I spent my teenage years, in case you were wondering. Had a thing for yachties.”
Within minutes she had manoeuvred them away from the other fishing vessels and was ploughing out through the bay, following in Monty’s frothy wake.
“What do we do if we catch up to them?” Caroline yelled across the roar of the engine and the rushing of the wind, and Roxy shook her head, clinging for dear life to the side of the vessel.
She had no idea. She just knew they had to stick close, they had to follow Max, wherever that took them. Come what may.
“There they are!” Caroline yelled again, clutching onto the tiller as she steered the boat with one hand, her other hand pointing towards a rush of white water in the distance. It had to be Monty’s boat, still flying, full throttle across the bay. Within minutes it would be through the inlet and out into the open sea.
“It’s too far away!” Roxy screamed back and then gasped when a sudden ball of white light appeared from nowhere, just to the north of the kidnapper’s runabout, followed fast by another ball of light from the west.
“What’s going on?” screamed Caroline and at first Roxy had no idea.
Then she realised and felt a flood of relief. “It must be the coast guard!”
Caroline took the motor down a notch and they watched from a distance as the larger vessels closed in on the smaller one, a flurry of Italian bursting out from a loudspeaker somewhere. They could just make out three or four dark figures running up and down the starboard side of one patrol vessel and what looked like guns pointing in the direction of Monty’s runabout.
By now the runabout had stalled and there was a burst of noise again before several dark-clad figures jumped onto its bow, pushing the kidnappers out of sight, probably onto the floor of the boat to be handcuffed.
That’s when Caroline buckled over, one hand still on the tiller, the other holding her mouth in wrenching sobs, and Roxy joined her at the stern, holding her tight as they both cried with joy and relief.
It was over at last.
“But what about Max?!” Caroline suddenly gasped, pushing away, a look of panic in her eyes. “Oh my God, what if he’s ...?”
Roxy swiped her tears away then reached over and, using the technique Caroline had used earlier, revved the engine back to life. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
Caroline grabbed her hand to stall her. “I’m not sure I can.”
Roxy placed her other hand on Caroline’s and gave her a reassuring smile. “Come on, Caro. We’ve come this far. We can go the final leg. We can do this. For Max.”
Max’s heart was still beating, but only just. As they puttered their way to the runabout, they watched with horror as two officers were leaning over Max’s limp body, one performing CPR, the other monitoring his watch. The kidnappers had been hauled off and onto the second patrol boat, but Roxy couldn’t even look their way. She never wanted to set eyes on Monty and Valentino again.
A familiar face appeared then, leaning out from the first patrol boat. It was Officer Giuseppe with a life jacket on and a rope in his hands, which he was now flinging towards them. Caroline grabbed it and secured it to the bow then watched as Giuseppe and another officer pulled them close enough to tie the two vessels together. Within minutes the women had clambered off and were sitting to one side of the patrol boat, blankets wrapped around their shaking bodies, watching mutely as the officers continued working on Max.
After what seemed like forever, one of the officers yelled something in Italian to Giuseppe who yelled something back then turned to look at Caroline.
“We need to get him to a hospital, fast!”
Before she could respond, one officer was releasing the small motorboat Roxy and Caroline had used and was reversing it out of the way while two other officers were hauling Max’s lifeless body onto their patrol boat, a third continuing with the CPR. As Max’s body was set down carefully at the stern, both women gasped.
He looked like a total stranger. Max’s gaunt face was unshaven and smudged with dirt, his usually floppy hair oily and clinging to his head, the clothes on his body filthy and torn. His eyes were not open and his limbs were not moving, but the vessel now was, at rapidly increasing speed, heading in a southerly direction, away from Riomaggiore.
Caroline, too, was flying across the boat, trying to get to her brother, but Roxy held her back. “I need to be with him!” she screamed. “I need to hold him!”
“Let them do their job, Caro. They don’t need us getting in their way.”
“But he’s my brother!” she wailed and Roxy screamed back at her.
“And he’s my boyfriend!” There she’d said it. “But it’s not about us. We need to let them bring him back.”
Caroline nodded wearily and dropped her head into her hands again as Giuseppe wrapped the blanket around her tighter.
The vessel was now flying across the bay and Roxy stole a glimpse back towards the second patrol boat, which was following close behind. At the forward bow she spotted two men sitting cross-legged, their hands behind their backs, their heads hung low, several officers standing on either side. Suddenly one of the men looked up and straight towards her. Roxy couldn’t see his face clearly, but it had to be Monty, she could just make out a mop of white hair, something white near his mouth.
A fierce wave of anger and betrayal rippled through her then and she wanted to raise her fists and scream at him, but she did none of that. She simply shook her head and looked away.
“Tea!”
Giuseppe was holding a flask out towards her and Roxy accepted it with a grateful nod. After a few refreshing gulps, she handed it back and asked, “How did you know?”
He looked over her shoulder to the second boat. “We have suspected Valentino for some time, but we were not sure about his accomplice,” he called back, his voice difficult to hear above the drone of the boat’s large engines. “I am sorry it had to get this far, but we needed to catch him in the act.”
“Monty?”
“Yes, Monty Tedesco.”
And then, in a whoosh, it came to her. It all made sense now and she was shocked that she had not realised it earlier. “They’re related, right?”
“Monty is Valentino’s uncle.”
No wonder Valentino’s surname had sounded so familiar earlier that evening. Suddenly, Lily-Anne Waver’s words began ringing in Roxy’s ears, the words she had used that first night they had arrived in Riomaggiore and Monty had helped them find lodgings: “So Monty Tedesco strikes again,” Lily-Anne had said. “He’s always at his hat perch, helping everyone.”
Too helpful, Roxy thought now, realising with a tremble how badly she and Caroline had been played. They had trusted this man and he had manipulated them, right from the start.
She recalled Monty’s words, too, from that first evening, how he’d envied Hugo’s five holiday rentals and sniggered: “Life is too easy for him. He just rents the rooms then sleeps all day. I wish!”
In fact, he’d wished for it so badly, he was prepared to kill anyone who got in his way.
Roxy didn’t know if it was Monty’s idea or Valentino’s, but they must have conspired to get rid of Candy and frame Donald for the crime. That way they, too, could live the easy life. All they had to do was convince Valentino’s busy wife Maria to let them start renting out that enormous seaside apartment, then they could just sit back and watch the money pour in.
And if Maria refused? Well, there was always the cliff top on a quiet and lonely day.
Roxy trembled again and turned back to Officer Giuseppe. “So why did you arrest Donald this morning? What was that about?”
“We needed to get him out of Riomaggiore,” he yelled. “We needed an excuse to close down the station. I told you about this, knowing the word would get out. Sofia must have mentioned it to Valentino when she returned to the restaurant, and Valentino must have told Monty. This is what we were counting on. We needed them to think it was over and force their hand.”
“You mean force them to get rid of Max?” She glanced across to her dear friend who was still being monitored by the patrol officers but had a little more colour in his cheeks now. Caroline had crept to his side and was clutching one hand, a look of shock on her face.
Roxy turned back to Giuseppe, her emerald eyes flashing with fury. “You risked his life!”
Giuseppe had the decency to look ashamed and said, “I am sorry about this.” He edged closer to where she was sitting. “You have to believe me, Miss Parker, we had no choice. They had already killed two people, we needed to catch them, how you say, red-handed. We needed them to think the coast was clear and force them to act.”
Well, they’d certainly done that.
The motor suddenly dropped down a few revs and Roxy looked up to find they were turning towards an unfamiliar coastline littered with thousands of bright lights.
“La Spezia,” Giuseppe called out. “The hospital is not far away. Your friend, Max, will soon be okay.”
Boyfriend, she wanted to correct him, but only nodded, hoping he was right.
Max did survive his seven-day ordeal, but he would be a changed man for life, and it saddened Roxy deeply as she watched him lying in his hospital bed, sleeping now, but probably not as peacefully as he once had. He’d probably never sleep quite so peacefully again.
It had been three days since his ordeal had ended, and while his health was now improving, it would be many weeks before his weight returned. Yet it was his spirit Roxy was most worried about.
As Max recuperated at La Spezia’s Sant’Andrea Hospital, a drip in one arm, bandages on his forehead and around both wrists and ankles, Roxy thought of what he had endured at the hands of Monty and Valentino Tedesco. She felt bitterly angry but relieved, too, because he had not been killed as Jake had. They had spared him that. Not intentionally, of course, for it was only a matter of time.
From what Roxy had pieced together with Commander Rossi and Carmela, they had every intention of killing Max, but the police had arrived in Riomaggiore and so they had to put it off until the coast was clear, when they could quietly dump him out to sea.
Roxy shivered a little at the thought and watched Max sleep, most of her questions now answered, the whole, complicated puzzle now complete. What she hadn’t worked out for herself, Max had filled in between groggy sleeps and doctor’s visits. The police had managed to explain the rest.
The whole sorry saga had started for Max 500 kilometres away, in a whole different country at a whole different altitude. It was his first Monday night at Mt Pilatus and a perky blonde Australian with a silly name and a flirtatious nature had approached him at the bar below the stairs of the Hotel Bellevue. He was enjoying the complementary Swiss cheese between sips of good Belgian beer, happy in his own company, when Candy waltzed up, her husband back in his room with a headache. They were chatting within seconds, Candy waxing lyrical about her boring husband who often got headaches and always hated to hike.
“I’m hiking around the trail tomorrow if you want to come along,” Max had said, fatefully as it turned out, and she had gleefully accepted. She had a knack for encouraging male escorts.
And so they had met for breakfast that Tuesday, Max in hiking boots, Candy with her bubble pink visor on and trekking poles by her side, all ready for a day around the mountain. The walk had been a lot of fun until Candy started to tell Max about a few “silly messages” she had recently received from her business partner in Riomaggiore.
“What sort of messages?” he had asked.
“Oh she seems to have it in her head that my husband can’t be trusted.” She laughed then, not believing it for a second, but at Max’s insistence, told him how Maria’s husband, Valentino, suspected that Donald was planning to “bump her off”.
“It’s ludicrous!” she’d said, but it must have played on Max’s mind because, knowing the couple were heading for Cinque Terre the following day, he began to worry. Unable to convince Candy to take the threat seriously, he phoned his flatmate, Jake, offering to waive his overdue rent if he could get himself to Milan with Max’s good camcorder and telephoto lens by lunchtime the next day.
“If this guy really is going to try to kill his wife, I’m going to film it all and make sure he doesn’t get away with it!”
Next he called his mother in Australia and, not wanting to worry her, simply told her he was heading to a place called Riomaggiore. Any more and she’d panic. He should have realised that she would start panicking the minute she heard the tension in his voice.
And so Max had checked out of Mt Pilatus early and followed the Marlows down to Italy, stopping briefly in Milan to collect his camera gear from Jake. Being a spontaneous fellow, Jake had begged to come along and after some hesitation Max had agreed. He could do with the company.
That was his first major mistake.
Late that Wednesday night, the flatmates arrived in Riomaggiore and found a room at Ola’s Villas. The next afternoon, Max caught up with Candy who was stunned to learn he had followed her all this way.
“You have to report your husband to the local police,” he’d said and she had laughed him off. He was overreacting, she was sure it was all just a silly misunderstanding. “Well, I’m not letting Donald out of my sight,” Max had told her then. “If he so much as tries anything with you, I’ll not only have it on camera, I’ll be there to stop him.”
That conversation was Max’s second mistake.
“Valentino overheard the whole thing,” Commander Rossi had told Roxy and Caroline when they met again, just the day before.
They had all gathered in a small waiting room at the La Spezia hospital. The police had already interrogated the Tedescos and while Monty had not so much as opened his mouth, Valentino’s lips were flapping.
“He is a big baby,” Carmela had scoffed. “He is crying and trying to say it was all his uncle’s idea. But we know that he is the one who killed Jake.”
“Ah yes, but he tells us he did not mean to,” said Rossi. “He only meant to drive him back to Berlin and leave him there.”
“So what on earth happened?” demanded Caroline, but Roxy was already holding her hand up.
“Sorry, can we just back up a bit first? You said that Valentino overheard Max talking to Candy; that was at the back of Ted’s, right, on the Thursday night? Valentino told us Max was trying to hit on Candy, but obviously he was lying. Max was trying to protect the poor woman.”
“Yes,” said Carmela. “That’s when Valentino panicked. How could they possibly plant Candy’s murder on Donald if Max was watching him the whole time? He quickly reported the conversation to Monty who was furious. His plan was about to go belly up!”
Little did any of them know, Monty’s plan had been many years in the making, his envy of Candy and frustration with Maria, brewing to boiling point. Despite his outwardly friendly nature, Monty was a bundle of bitterness and regret, and he was fed up to his hind teeth with running the hat shop. It was a full-time, thankless job, and one that was so dull he spent his days loitering on the road watching as other people got to enjoy their leisurely lives. He had always longed for a holiday rental, an easy life like Hugo, but he didn’t have the money and time was running out. Would he spend his final good years serving sunburnt tourists while Candace and Donald Marlow got to relax?
Not if he could help it.
Monty wanted to ditch his job and take over managing that enormous, seaside apartment that his nephew’s wife was squandering away. He wanted to rent it out all day every day to rich tourists while he put his feet up. Yet Maria was having none of it. Candy didn’t want to rent it to strangers and Maria didn’t really have the time, her restaurant being a full-time occupation. She was happy with the status-quo, Monty not so much.
Eventually, as Valentino’s marriage deteriorated—how could it not, the man had eyes for everyone but his wife—Monty convinced his nephew to act, explaining that once Candy was gone, they would both be rich and happy. He knew that Candy’s apartment alone could net more than Hugo’s five crummy rentals. “You need never work in that dingy trattoria again, slave to your nagging fish wife!”
“The plan was supposed to be a simple one,” said Rossi. “First they would plant the idea that Donald could not be trusted into Candy’s head then, when the Marlows arrived for their annual holiday, Monty would take Candy on a secret walk along the cliff top to discuss his concerns in private.”
“He needed to do it that first Friday morning,” Giuseppe spoke up now, “when he knew I would not be in town. I only man the office on weekends when it is busiest, you see.”
“That is right,” said Carmela. “Monty planned to meet Candy in secret at the most secluded part of the Blue Trail, just near the end of the Via dell'Amore. He would take a few photos and then, while she was leaning out to look at the view, he would push her over.”
“And while Monty did that, Valentino was going to stitch Donald up,” said Roxy.
“That is correct,” Rossi agreed. “He would drug Donald’s champagne and juice—a drink he had every morning over breakfast at Ted’s when he was in town—then, before Donald passed out, Valentino would get him into Maria’s bedroom above the restaurant, where he would be out of the way and without an alibi. Valentino knew Maria would be at the Monterosso markets, where she was every Friday. If we did not believe Donald killed his wife for the inheritance, a suspected affair would seal his fate.”
“Of course they knew Maria would deny it, but they were counting on a sceptical police force,” said Carmela. “And if they could stick it to Valentino’s nagging wife at the same time, then, great.”
“But what if Maria had refused?” said Caroline now. “What if she had inherited the whole apartment and didn’t want to let Monty take it over and rent it out?”
Rossi’s eyes drooped sadly. “Then there is always the rocky cliffs of the Via dell'Amore.”
Roxy thought about this and shivered. She hadn’t exactly warmed to Maria, but she was glad she had been spared that. The plan was certainly foolproof, she thought, the perfect murder. Candy would be gone, Donald in jail, and the apartment would be theirs to do with as they liked.
But they weren’t counting on Candy’s White Knight, Max Farrell, and his sidekick Jake Conway.
“They must have been very frustrated,” said Carmela, half smiling. “How could they pin this on Donald if Max and Jake were watching him the whole time? That’s when they reworked their plan. Now they would have to get rid of those men, too. And quickly, before the weekend came and Giuseppe returned.”
So it was, that Friday morning, as Maria headed off to the markets and Candy headed off for her hike, Valentino had to put Plan B into place. Instead of just drugging Donald, he also had to drug Max who was seated nearby.
“We believe he drugged Mr Farrell first,” said Rossi.
“What kind of drug?” asked Caroline.
“We suspect Rohypnol, we have found several suspicious vials amongst Mr Tedesco’s belongings so we will know more soon, when the forensics report comes back.”
“Are you talking about Roofies, the date rape drug?”
“That is the one.”
How typical of that sleazebag, Caroline thought, wondering why he even had the drug in the first place. She shuddered at the thought.
“We suspect he laced two glasses of the champagne and juice drink, er, what do you call it?”
“Mimosa,” Caroline promptly answered.
“Yes, that is it. Mr Farrell tells us that Valentino offered him a complimentary mimosa with his breakfast, it’s about the last thing he remembers, and we suspect it was laced with the strong sedative. When he became groggy, Valentino pretended to help him to the restrooms at the back but really he dragged him down to the wine cellar deep below the restaurant before he passed out.”
“The cellar is not used anymore,” explained Carmela. “Plus it has thick stone walls. A very good place to hide someone.”
“But hang on,” said Roxy. “What about that text message Max sent me: SOS. Was Max in the cellar then?”
Giuseppe nodded. “His memory is very vague, of course, but we believe he must have sent that message before he was properly tied up. Valentino must have left your friend for a few minutes while he drugged Mr Marlow and got him into Maria’s bed. Mr Farrell must have come to at some point and sent that text before he fell unconscious again.”
“And Sofia, the waitress?” demanded Caroline. “She was on duty that day, how on earth did she not notice all these men disappearing out the back, looking stoned to their eyeballs?”
Rossi shook his head. “There is no evidence that Sofia is involved and we do know that Valentino kept her busy with the tables out on the patio, so it is likely that she did not see any of this, but we are still checking. We have also confirmed that Ola does employ Sofia to clean her hotel rooms, so it is not suspicious that you saw her outside Max’s room that day. Still, we are keeping an open mind.”
Roxy said, “Okay, so Valentino drugs both men and gets them out of the way, but where is Jake in all of this?”
“Ah yes, the third man,” said Carmela. “The one who has been confusing us all.”
Understatement of the week, thought Roxy but she just listened as Carmela continued.
“Valentino had quite a lot of luck on his side. He did not have enough of the drug for all three men, but he was guessing from the previous morning that Jake would not come to Ted’s for breakfast, he would be sleeping in.”
“So,” interjected Rossi, “according to Sofia, just before 11:00 a.m., Valentino suddenly put her in charge of the restaurant claiming his cousin had called with an emergency in Roma. He said to tell Maria he would be away overnight.”
“But really he was heading straight to Ola’s Villas to offer Jake a lift back to Berlin, right?” said Roxy and they all nodded. “He probably woke him up and told him they had to leave immediately.” They nodded again.
While Valentino must have loathed the idea of a gruelling, twelve-hour drive, he knew he had little choice; he had to get Jake out of the way, pronto. The plan, however, was not to kill him, or at least that’s what he told the police. He was simply going to get him to his apartment, freshen up quickly, then get back in the car and head home. The problem was, Jake started listening to his answering machine and there were dozens of increasingly frantic messages left by the Farrell family, desperately looking for Max.
That’s when Valentino panicked.
As Jake left his first message for Caroline, Valentino grabbed the nearest object he could find and smashed his head in. Then he wiped all the other messages and headed back to Italy as fast he could drive, thinking he had got away with it and congratulating himself the whole time. Little did he know, the young woman in apartment 3A had heard some words of Italian being spoken in the corridor that night, and a young parking attendant back in Riomaggiore had a thorough knowledge of road tolls.
“Okay,” said Roxy. “So while Valentino was doing all the heavy lifting, Monty was doing a little push and shove? Throwing Candy over the cliff?”
The detectives nodded again. “He was clever, our Monty,” said Rossi. “The old-timer knew the path well. He knew there were bends where you could walk unseen, where you could push your victim off the edge and no one would notice a thing.”
What Monty didn’t know, thought Roxy, was that he would be noticed in absentia—when a loud American woman would get so badly sunburnt she would come calling for a hat. As she sat in the Laundromat that day, watching the spin cycle, Roxy realised that Monty, too, had no alibi at the time of Candy’s death, yet she quickly dismissed this. After all, why would Monty want to kill Candy? He was just a helpful local. The husband was the one with the motive.
As if reading her mind, Carmela said, “When Donald woke up from his drug-induced sleep late Friday afternoon, still in Maria’s bed, he had no idea what had just happened and absolutely no alibi.”
“And what he didn’t know,” added Rossi, “was that it wasn’t just Sofia who saw him coming out the back of Ted’s. Maria had also spotted him.”
Carmela laughed suddenly. “Poor Maria! She was so confused! She could not work out why he was in her room. She says she never looked twice at her friend’s husband.”
“And why would she?” chimed in Caroline, recalling his pale splotchy skin, his sharklike teeth.
“So what happens now?” asked Roxy. “Will Donald keep Candy’s share of the apartment, do you know?”
Rossi shrugged. “I don’t think he has given it much thought. He is still in La Spezia, organising to have his wife’s remains returned to Australia. I believe Maria will accompany him for the funeral.”
“They’re going to bury her at home?”
“Cremate,” said Carmela. “He said something about taking her ashes on one final hike, to her favourite lookout, somewhere in the Blue Mountains, is it?”
“Oh that’s a beautiful spot,” said Roxy. “So, he’s going to escort his wife this time.” She sighed. “If only he’d done that earlier, all of this might never have happened.”
They contemplated that silently for several minutes before Carmela coughed discreetly and nudged her head sideways at Rossi. When he looked at her like she was crazy, she gave him a quick thwack across one shoulder and said, “The award, you idiot!”
“Oh, yes, scusi!” Rossi then told them the exciting news. His superiors had decided to honour Caroline and Roxy with one of Italy’s highest commendations, the Civilian Valour Medal for Bravery. “The ceremony will be later in the year, but the Force will be happy to fly you back for it.”
“Oh my God!” squealed Caroline. “That’s amazing! When do we get it? What does it look like?”
As she rattled away, Roxy smiled but couldn’t help thinking she had all the reward she needed and he was lying under crisp white sheets in the Sant’Andrea Hospital.
Max stirred then, breaking Roxy from her reverie, and she watched as he struggled to open his eyes before he drifted back to sleep.
Oh Max, she thought, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. You’re the one who deserves the medal. If only you hadn’t been so gallant.
All those years he’d spent chiding her for suspecting the worst, for seeing crimes wherever she looked, he’d done the exact same thing. And it had almost cost him his life.
Indeed, underestimating Max Farrell had been Monty and Valentino’s biggest mistake. They never would have guessed that Max would follow Candy to town, nor that he would take her words so seriously and contact the police. The problem was, as he left his message on the emergency phone line, he began to second-guess himself. It all sounded a little absurd. No wonder Candy wasn’t taking it seriously! There was no substantial evidence and Donald Marlow looked harmless enough. And so Max had hung up without giving any more details, and that was his third major mistake.
It was also the thing that saved his life.
Not sure what to make of the confusing call, Commander Rossi had decided to despatch two officers to Riomaggiore the next day to investigate, but not until midday—too late for Candy as it turned out, but in time to stop Monty from disposing of Max, as planned, that night.
So Monty bided his time, waiting until Candy’s body was found and the police had finally vacated the town, Donald in cuffs, a guilty shadow hanging over Maria. Once the police were gone, Monty and Valentino would dump Max out to sea, knowing he would be so weak he would easily drown and it would look like he had been there all along. Their plan would finally be complete.
Enter Roxy and Caroline.
When the two Aussies arrived a few days after Candy had vanished, enquiring about their missing friend, Monty began to panic. He knew he had to keep them close and so he had done everything to help them out, in effect to learn what they knew and to gain access to Max’s hotel room. There, while Roxy called Caroline, he planted Candy’s pink visor and retrieved the Converse sneaker. He later planted it in the fishing lines, hoping it would make them believe their friend was already dead.
Little did he know it would only encourage Roxy’s insatiable curiosity because, as she pointed out to the local police, who would go hiking with just one shoe?
“Hey, Parker.”
Roxy looked up from her thoughts again to find Max watching her this time, his eyelids heavy, his cheeks pale. She edged closer and gave his hand another squeeze. “Hey, Max. How are you feeling?”
He tried to smile, only managed a grimace. “Like I’ve been run over by a truck. Fifty times. Sorry, must have dozed off.”
“Don’t be sorry. Your body’s still recovering. Those bastards fed you, but only just. Doc says it’ll be a few more days yet before you’re strong enough to get up.”
“Caroline?” He tried to look around.
“She’s downstairs, trying to get her mitts on some magazines, I suspect. There’s fashion to catch up on.”
He half smiled, his lips cracking a little. “You okay?”
“Moi?” She held a hand to her breast as if surprised. “I’m perfectly okay, now we’ve found you. Plus they’re going to give us a medal, don’t you know? We’re now fully fledged heroes, so you better start treating us with some respect!” She smiled. “Hey, your parents rang earlier, tried to come and see you but we put them off. Said you needed more time to rest.”
“Thank God.”
“Thank Caroline, actually. I think she’s grown up a lot this past week.”
“Yeah right,” he said, this time managing to smile.
And there it was, his full-throttle, melt-your-heart smile and she felt herself exhale as she soaked it up.
“I’m so sorry, Max,” she said eventually, but he held a finger up.
“No ... nothing to be sorry for.”
“Oh there’s plenty. I won’t go on about it, I promise, but I do need to say this before your bloody sister comes back and takes over again.” She hesitated, took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Max, that I behaved so badly when you first told me about the Mercedes job, and I’m sorry that I let you go without so much as a congratulations or a good-bye. But mostly I’m sorry that I could never quite step up when we were going out.” She sniffed back a small tear. “Can you ever forgive me?”
He smiled again and reached a hand to brush her tear away. “You saved my life, Roxy. I think I can forgive you. It’s the least I can do. Now ... can you do one thing for me?”
She gave him a sideways look. “What, saving your life wasn’t enough?!” She smiled but he wasn’t smiling back.
“It’s about us,” he began and she went to say something but he held a hand up to stall her. “Can you please be my best mate again?’
She looked crestfallen. “I never stopped.”
“Oh yes you did, for a while there. When we started going out.” His voice was croaky with emotion. “I lost you, Parker, you changed.”
She bowed her head. “I’m so sorry—”
“It’s okay, it’s fine, really. But I want my buddy back.” He waited until she looked into his eyes and said, “Can we forget this whole relationship crap, we’re so bad at it and I miss you, I just want to be mates again.”
“Best mates?” she asked.
“Best mates for life.”
Roxy threw herself across Max’s chest causing him to groan. “Oooh, sorry, sorry.” She looked into his eyes again. “I do love you, you know?”
“I know, that’s why we have to stay friends, so you keep that up.”
“Can I ask just one small favour?”
“What?! Now I have to do something for you?” It was his turn to smile. “Of course, Parker, I’ll do anything. I owe you my life.”
“No, just this.” She slowly leaned in towards him and placed her lips very gently on his. They kissed then, just softly, just for a few seconds, but slowly the sadness of the past six months dissolved and the terror of the past week subsided, and she knew he was absolutely right. She had struggled to call him her boyfriend because that hat had never quite fit, despite their best efforts. He was her best friend and there was no denying it.
“Oh get a room!” came Caroline’s voice from the doorway where she had been watching them, several magazines in one hand, a tray of plastic cups in the other. She glanced around. “Oh, this is a room. Well, then, go right ahead.”
“We’re done,” Roxy said, laughing as she stepped back.
Caroline placed her things down then handed Roxy a cup. “Latté with two sugars, right?”
“Yes, thank you.” Roxy and Max shared an impressed glance but Caroline wasn’t watching, she was reaching for the iPhone in her handbag.
“Okay, I have more messages to report.” Max groaned. “No, no, this won’t take long.” She began tapping at the screen. “Okay, so, Mum says, make sure the hospital feeds you plenty of nutritious raw vegies, none of that overcooked mush, Dad says the Australian embassy has called and wish you a speedy recovery—fat lot of use they were. Umm, Oliver left a quick message, sending his best to you, Max, and telling you, Roxy, to stay out here for a while and I quote, ‘work is as slow as a snail’s plop’.” She paused so Roxy could groan this time. “Oh, and Gunter called from Berlin, Max, to say take as long as you need, your job will be waiting for you when you return.”
“That’s good to know,” Roxy said and Caroline’s eyebrows shot up.
“I thought you’d demand Max return to Sydney pronto.”
Roxy shook her head. “Why would I do that? Max is my best mate and I only want the best for him.” She turned to look at him. “You love your job so you’d be crazy to come home now. I’ll miss you and I’ll e-mail you every single day.”
“E-mail? That’s so passé,” scoffed Caroline but Roxy ignored her.
“And I’ll be sure to keep the beer on ice for when you return. In fact, I’ll keep a running reservation at Pico’s wine bar, just in case.”
Then she swooped in and gave him another kiss, but this time it was on his cheek, while Caroline rolled her eyes then immersed herself in the latest issue of Italian Vogue.
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