by Linda Coles
As Julie sipped her coffee and nibbled on half her croissant, she was somewhat surprised to see a gentleman approach a table nearby, pull out a newspaper and make himself comfortable. She wouldn’t normally have given him a second glance except that he was dark. His skin had a European ‘oliveness’ about it, his hair cropped short and styled. A handsome individual. But it was the newspaper that gave him away. The Daily Telegraph was not a newspaper normally found in a small French town at eight in the morning. It could only mean one thing: he was the dark man the waitress had referred to and he too had an interest in finding Susan that morning. Cold dread filled Julie’s stomach and mixed with the coffee. She stifled the urge to vomit. There was nothing she could do without revealing she was there for Susan too. In an effort to steady her nerves, she took a couple of deep breaths and mumbled to herself, “No matter, Julie. You can do this. You can do this.” She wished she had a newspaper of her own to hide behind, but the sunglasses would have to do. Since he wouldn’t be expecting anyone else after the same prize, he’d likely concentrate on his own intentions anyway.
Julie watched the waitress from yesterday make her way across and take his order. It wouldn’t be long until Susan showed up and Julie was nervous of what would happen now there was somebody else in the game. What was his plan? How would he handle things? Had he got backup? She sipped on her glass of water and finished the croissant, all the while watching the man periodically peer over the top of his newspaper. If he was a police detective, he wasn’t particularly good at surveillance, Julie mused, trying to find lightness in the situation and steady her nerves. Out the corner of her eye, she could see Alan walking towards her casually, trying not to take an interest in the surroundings, and she took the chance to alert him. She slipped her sunglasses down her nose and tried desperately to point with her eyes. Alan could see that another player had arrived. When she was confident he’d received her message, she slid the sunglasses back up her nose, glad now that somebody else knew – she wasn’t on her own. He’d likely tell Chrissy and between them they would come up with a revised proposition.
She willed Susan to arrive, her nerves starting to jangle as the caffeine circulated around her bloodstream, and she tried to stay calm, the pressure getting to her somewhat. In her own mind, she tried to work out how this was going to pan out now the dark man had joined in. If she approached Susan first, they would never find out so she decided to let the man have his way, feeling sure he wasn’t going to make a grab for her either. How could he? He was a British cop and since she had seen no French equivalent hovering anywhere nearby, he was a lone wolf just like she was.
At that moment Susan entered the picture. Julie restrained herself from calling out to her, desperate to talk, to warn her even. Instead, Julie watched as she casually put on her apron and approached a table of two obvious tourists that had arrived around the same time. With their order taken, the dark man raised his hand in her direction to call her attention and she made her way over. Julie could only watch, trying her best and failing to lip-read. Whatever he was saying, he was barely moving his mouth, but judging by the look on Susan’s face it wasn’t good news. She seemed to pale. Blood left her cheeks and a hand shot to her mouth in obvious horror. Whatever the man had said had upset her deeply and she stood frozen to the spot. Julie wondered what she should do now. She didn’t want to let on why she too was there, and she didn’t want to see her friend slip away again.
She waited it out.
When Susan had gone back inside, Julie stood up and pretended she was heading in to pay for her breakfast, even though it wasn’t the custom in France. The young waitress from yesterday looked at her puzzled, her eyes flicking around, seemingly scared. But Julie couldn’t contain herself any longer and asked in a hurried whisper “Where did she go?” With a flick of her eyes, the waitress indicated that Susan had gone through to the back room and Julie followed, hoping she was still there and hadn’t been scared away.
Susan Smith, Tabby, was sat on a chair with her head bowed, wiping her face, silently trying to stop the flow of tears.
“Susan,” Julie said quietly and gently, and watched as her friend raised her head and registered who it was stood in front of her. Half expecting her to flee she was surprised then when Susan stood and wrapped her arms around her, sobbing into her shoulder. All Julie could do was rub the woman’s back and calm her.
And wait.
Chapter Seventy-Six
Both Alan and Chrissy had seen what had happened from their vantage points. As the dark-haired man had risen and slid euros under his coffee cup for payment, he sauntered off, pulling his phone out at the same time. Alan decided immediately to follow him. Although Alan had no idea what had taken place, he was intrigued to know how this man fitted in and who he was talking to. He assumed the dark man was the other police detective. Alan strained to hear his words, albeit a one-sided conversation, but as he passed by, pretending he wasn’t interested in the slightest, he was able to hear, “I think it’s done the trick. I’ll be back with her soon.” While those words on their own didn’t sound sinister, if the man was intending something with Susan they certainly did. But Alan had to carry on past and pull into a shop, pretending he was on a mission for something else entirely. He had no intention of going inside but stood in the doorway with his back pressed against the wall, waiting for the man to pass by, hoping to catch more of the conversation. It seemed there was nothing more to be said, the man was silent, but Alan observed him turn around and slowly head back where he’d just come from. Alan quickly pressed himself against the opposite wall so as not to be seen and peered out to watch the man walk back towards the café and Susan Smith. He slipped in behind him, keeping his distance, watching and waiting to see if there was anybody else in the surrounding area that could be part of whatever this man had planned. He half expected to see the French police but got the vibe the man was up to no good on his own. He had to find out.
Alan needed Bridget’s help. He dialled her number and hoped she wasn’t too busy.
“Have you found him?” she said, opening the conversation.
“I think I have,” Alan said, “but I don’t know who he is. Is there any way that you can see via my GPS location who has just received a call to a British mobile? I need to know who he’s talking to. All police phones are tracked, aren’t they?”
“You don’t want much, do you?” Bridget said. “That’s not going to be easy or quick, if I can even do it. Do you know how many mobile phones there will be where you are?”
“Well, can you think of another way?”
“Hang on a minute,” she said. “Let me get your coordinates and see what I can do. But you owe me big time if I manage to pull this off without pesky flags being raised. I’ll call you shortly.”
Before she hung up on him, Alan managed to add, “Text me, don’t call.”
“Will do.” And then she was gone. Alan didn’t want his phone ringing in an inopportune moment, but he needed the information, like, yesterday. He needed to know who he was dealing with and how they fitted in.
He sauntered back into the café, but instead of sitting at a table, he headed straight inside, figuring that’s where the women were. He was right. In the back room, Chrissy, Julie and Susan all sat together with an overriding sense of foreboding.
“What’s happened?” Alan enquired.
“You’d better sit down,” Chrissy instructed, and Alan pulled up a plastic crate to perch on. They were in a back storeroom. There was barely room for four people and it was not the ideal place for a conversation, but at least it was out of the way of prying eyes. Chrissy introduced Alan to Susan so she knew who else had joined the party – not that she was celebrating.
“What’s happened?” asked Alan again.
“We’re not the only ones looking for Susan as we suspected,” Chrissy said. “And whoever that guy is, he’s got some dirt on Susan and he’s threatening to go to Marcus with it if she doesn’t go back with him. He�
�s coming to pick her up in an hour and if she doesn’t go, her life as she knows it will be over. She’s got to decide what she wants. Oh, and he knows where she’s staying and has her few belongings with him. He’s giving her no choice at the moment. She can’t exactly run again, she has nothing.”
“That’s a pretty broad threat. What is it about, have you any idea?” Alan asked gently.
Susan raised her head and said, “He knows about my past, and if it comes out, Marcus will suffer the embarrassment of it all. And he doesn’t deserve that.” She started sobbing again. Whatever her secret was, it was obviously going to be a painful event for them both. Through the sobs she added, “I can’t bear it, not now, after all this time, and Marcus doesn’t deserve the messy publicity it would create. I might not love him any more, but I care about him, and I can’t do this to him.” Her sobs carried on quietly, tears dropping from her jawline.
“But that’s not all,” said Chrissy. “He wants her to do something and if she agrees to do it, he won’t tell.”
Blackmail. “What does he want you to do?” Alan asked. He waited for her to calm a little, anxious for the answer.
“He wants me to be a witness to an event for him. An event I’ve no idea about, but he’ll coach me. If I do this, if I go to court and pretend I’m somebody else, it will be over. And my past won’t come out.”
“Who is this man? Do you know him, did he give his name?” Alan asked.
Susan shook her head. “He just said he had the power to do it and he was part of the police and I had no choice.” She bowed her head again and carried on sobbing, tears streaming down her face and trickling to the floor in front of her. Julie continued to rub Susan’s back to comfort her; it was all she could do. Alan was the only one with professional experience in such a matter. He was, after all, police.
“Here’s what we do,” he said matter-of-factly. “Susan,” he said, catching her attention, “you say yes, agree to do this.” She glared at him in a ‘have you gone mad?’ kind of way and Alan put his hand up in order to silence her. “Let me carry on. No one’s got the right to blackmail you and if this guy is a copper as he says he is, he’s certainly got no right to ask you to do any of this. I need to get some backup to sort this out once and for all. This is much bigger than you sauntering off taking someone’s identity for a few days. It’s much too dangerous by the sounds of it and we can’t have that. So I need you to say yes and pull yourself together. I know that’s hard, but you need to do it to carry this through.”
Susan stared, wet-eyed, at Alan. He carried on.
“Arrange to meet him later on today and you have to be adamant about that. We need as much time as possible to get things organised so if you can delay him until, say, one o’clock that gives us about four hours to organise something. Better still, if you can get him to agree to meet you at, say, five o’clock this afternoon that gives us plenty of time.”
It was a lot to ask. With a faint nod she accepted the terms.
“I can’t let this out. I can’t ruin Marcus like this,” she said.
“And you won’t have to,” said Alan. “So pull yourself together and when he comes back, tell him your terms. One o’clock and no sooner. And, in the meantime, I’ll liaise with the local police and find out what’s going on, who this guy really is, and then we need to get you to the embassy because you don’t have any travelling documents to go home with.”
“Can’t I use the passport as I came with?”
Alan shook his head in disbelief.
“No. Not on my watch.”
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Alan had left the three women in the back room of the café and asked the owner to give them some space and certainly not to let anybody else in. Begrudgingly, he had agreed. There was still no news from Bridget with a name for the other man and Alan figured he was unlikely to find out. But cop or no cop, it was an offence to blackmail somebody and since Alan had no jurisdiction in France himself, he needed the local police to take over for him. The other detective was coming back shortly to get Susan’s decision and presumably take her with him. Alan wondered how he was planning on getting Susan back into the UK without using Tabitha Child’s passport again. If he knew she was travelling on false documents that was an offence all on its own. Alan knew the man’s intentions couldn’t be legitimate; this had nothing to do with police work and everything to do with corruption. When he eventually found out the man’s name, he’d be interested to know just what he’d got himself into because his career as a police detective would be over.
Unless whoever had sent him was in on it too.
Just before Alan entered the local police station, he called Bridget one more time for an update. He was disappointed that even Bridget, with her unorthodox computer talents, couldn’t figure out the identity of someone who’d made a phone call while standing so close to him. He needed more. But how? His phone immediately vibrated again and looking down at the screen realised it was his boss – he sent him straight to voicemail. He’d call in when this was all over and he could report a positive outcome. He stepped inside the station and asked to speak to a detective on duty, explaining who he was and that it was a matter of some urgency. Then he sat down to wait.
Back in the café storeroom, the three women sat huddled together on makeshift chairs, waiting. Susan had said very little since Alan left, though Julie and Chrissy were both anxious to find out more. Sensing that she was in a delicate space, worrying about what was going to happen and how she was going to get out of this mess, Chrissy hadn’t pushed it. Julie had tried coaxing her and had got nowhere, but as time wore on Chrissy began to feel more and more impatient. If the man blackmailing her was involved in something bigger, who knew what else he could be planning right now. Chrissy needed to find out what had happened to put Susan in the spot she was in now. Just what had she been planning, meeting up with Tabitha Child in Paris? And why weren’t they sitting together if they knew one another? And that was just for starters. Chrissy needed to know in case there was something looming that could blindside them.
“Susan?” she said gently. “We really need to talk some more because time is marching on and we need to know what we’re dealing with. Do you feel strong enough to tell us?”
“I’ll try,” she said weakly. She’d cried so hard Chrissy doubted there were any tears left to spill. Her shoulders had rocked with pain and hurt – the realisation of the trouble she was now in.
“So why don’t you take your time, start at the very beginning and tell us everything you can remember,” Chrissy said. “And if it’s okay with you, I’m going to record it on my iPhone, just so we’ve got everything and Alan can hear it too. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” Susan said, barely audible.
Chrissy pressed on. “Let’s start with how you came to be going to Paris in the first place. Where or how did you meet the woman you were then to join in Paris?”
Susan raised her head and looked directly at Chrissy. She must have realised at that moment they knew so much already. She started slowly and the story came out.
“I miss my sister,” she said. “It’s the anniversary of her death. Was the anniversary,” she corrected, looking at her friend Julie who nodded encouragingly. “I found a website that promised they could find someone to do pretty much anything on your behalf. Nothing bad like murdering someone,” she added rapidly. “But other stuff, something that might be important to you personally. It sounded fun.” Susan paused and Chrissy caught Julie’s eye. They were both thinking the same thing: it sounded odd. For Chrissy though, it sounded all too familiar. The college.
“And what was to happen?” Chrissy pressed.
“I found a woman who looked a lot like my sister, Melanie, and she wanted to do a swap. She’d do something for me, and I’d do something for her. And we agreed to meet in Paris where we’d each carry out our role for the other.” Susan’s voice faded a little at the memory. Chrissy could sense embarrassment coming.
“You can tell us, Susan, what it was. It really doesn’t matter to anyone what you had planned, but it’s important we know.”
Susan wiped her nose – it looked sore. She took a deep breath and carried on. “I wanted to spend the day with Melanie – go shopping, have tea together, chase fairies – that’s all. Like we used to. Nothing weird. And the woman agreed, it was all set up and then…” The words tumbled out and fresh tears fell in torrents as Susan shared her somewhat awkward situation – to an onlooker anyway. To Susan, it had been quite natural, the chance to play ‘dress-up’ with her sister as the two girls had done before Melanie’s death.
“So Tabitha Child was to spend the day with you, dressed as your sister, a role play experience?”
Susan nodded, embarrassment halting her words. Chrissy continued, “And what were you to do for her, Susan?”
“I was to meet a man for dinner, and pretend I was her. She said I’d have a ball, be taken out for the evening. It sounded intriguing.”
“How so?”
“I was to meet him at the top of the Eiffel Tower, just before it closed at midnight. She even sent me a dress to wear. She said it was important the man saw my thigh.”
Chrissy opened her mouth to speak but let it close again.
“It was only dinner and dancing, nothing more,” Susan added hurriedly. “I’ve always been faithful to Marcus.”
