Dearest Enemy

by Alexandra Sellers

  Elain snorted. “Oh, come on! There might have been lots of reasons it was removed. For cleaning, for repair. To be valued. Because it was going to be hung somewhere else. Coincidences happen!”

  But her heart sank, because any of those explanations meant Math was involved in fraud, even if not arson. It meant he was an opportunist and a liar.

  And Raymond said wryly as she knew he would, “But he just claimed for it anyway, did he? Perhaps he forgot he’d sent it to the cleaners.”

  “There’s another explanation,” Elain said doggedly. “It must have burnt. They’ve made a mistake.”

  “Look,” said her boss kindly. “This isn’t the first thing that’s made them suspicious. You can take it from me that both arson and fraud are involved, and that the owner is the guilty one.”

  Elain was silenced.

  “Now, what have you got for me?”

  “Rosemary and Davina come from a village outside of Godalming. That’s all I could get.”

  “Right. What else?”

  She paused. Should she tell him? She had made up her mind to say nothing of the discovery of the secret passage, letting Math tell them himself. She knew something was worrying him.

  “Spill it, Red,” Raymond said.

  When she had made that decision, she had been convinced of Math’s innocence, convinced that any day now the insurance company would have to bite the bullet and admit their mistake.

  If she was wrong, if they were right, what did it mean? That she was in love with a cheat? Elain bit her lip, pushed open the door of the stifling red booth, and breathed deeply. She put the receiver down on her chest. “Sorry,” she said to the air, “I’ll be through in a minute.” Then she spoke into the receiver again. “Sorry about that, Raymond. Somebody wanting to use the phone. I haven’t got anything at the moment. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

  She hung up before he could complain and pushed her way out of the phone box. God, she was covered in sweat! She wiped her hand over her forehead and dried it on the seat of her shorts. Then she blindly headed towards the pub. Maybe what she needed was a drink.

  Perhaps she had needed a shock like this to wake her up, make her face the truth: she was in love with Math.

  And he might be involved in fraud. Or worse.

  “Hello, again,” said Gwen at the pub. “Made your phone call all right, have you?”

  “Yeah,” said Elain, hardly hearing. She had asked for it, hadn’t she? Common sense should have told her not to fall in love with a suspect in a fraud case. In any kind of case.

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” Arson. People had nearly died. It had been early in the season, so the hotel wasn’t full, but Vinnie had told her two people had been lucky to get out. Was Math a man to risk people’s lives for gain? What did she know about him? Nothing. Her heart had told her he was innocent, and she had looked no further. But first, she reminded herself, her heart had told her he was guilty. She had talked herself out of that theory with a lot of psychobabble, because she was so deeply attracted to him. In truth, what did she really know?

  “There’s your coffee. Bad news, was it?”

  Elain blinked herself into consciousness. “Sorry, what?”

  “Your phone call. Bad news this time?”

  Dear God, Elain thought, suddenly hearing the whole conversation in her head. Made your phone call all right? Did the whole village know her business?

  But of course it did. Common sense should have told her that, too. A hotel guest who came down nearly every day to make a call from the public call box was going to be noticed. And talked about.

  She knew as clearly as if it were written on the wall in front of her that it was only a matter of time before Math learned something that made him suspect her. And seeing that, she saw something else, too: how what she was doing was going to look to him. No amount of explanation would disguise the fact that she had been leading a double life all the time that she was here.

  Several times she had been tempted to confess, and now she wished she had. But it was no longer an option. If Math was the arsonist, she couldn’t bear it if he started lying to her....

  Suddenly she was in a race against time. She had to find out whether Math was guilty of arson and fraud before he found out she was a cheat.

  * * *

  The stranger arrived at lunch-time the next day, with his bag and his excuse, and almost as soon as she saw him, Elain knew she should have expected something like this to happen. The residents and all the workmen were at the tables in the garden, having a lunch Vinnie and Jeremy had made, of salad, sandwiches and wine. The restaurant was closed for lunch to outside trade while repairs were going on. Myfanwy had taken the morning off.

  Elain had seen them from her vantage point on the hill, where she was spending the sunny morning painting, and come down to join them. A few minutes later, Math arrived. Elain guessed he’d been at work in the study, but for once she didn’t know—last night she’d slept alone in her room. She’d tossed and worried most of the night, but not to much purpose. There were two possibilities: he was either guilty or innocent. If he was innocent, she was the best person to find it out. If she quit her job now and left, the insurance company would send out someone else, and that someone would certainly now be biased against Math. And there were investigators who simply found what they were looking for.

  With each minute she stayed, she increased the risk of being discovered. But she couldn’t leave, and she couldn’t quit. Because she couldn’t afford what it would cost to stay without Raymond paying the bills.

  Elain sat in a chair in the sun and picked up a sandwich. She smiled her hellos as Math came across the grass towards her. Guilty or innocent, he would be furious if he started to suspect her. But if he was innocent, and she found the proof, maybe she could mend her fences.

  And if he was guilty, nothing mattered anyway.

  “Hi,” he said. “Feeling better?”

  She’d pleaded a headache last night, a need to be alone. “Yes, thanks,” she said. But there was a frown between her eyes and he didn’t believe her.

  “You need a hat when you’re working in the sun.”

  That was when the car arrived, stopping in the drive opposite the tables. A man got out, nodded to them all and walked into the hotel. Math raised an eyebrow as he passed, but said nothing.

  “Who can that be, I wonder?” Rosemary asked.

  Math shook his head.

  “A prospective guest, perhaps,” Vinnie said.

  Olwen appeared on the steps. “Math,” she called, rather harassed, “could you come?”

  “Uh-oh,” said Jeremy.

  Elain whirled. “What’s the matter? Who do you think it is?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”

  “But you said, ‘uh-oh.’”

  “Well, it’s obvious there’s a problem, isn’t there? You scarcely need eyes to see that. Probably something to do with the tunnel we found yesterday.”

  When Math returned, the man came with him. “It’s quiet now,” Math was saying, “but there will be construction noise all day long.”

  “That’s all right,” said the man.

  Math led him to the tables. “This is Brian Arthur, everyone,” he said.

  “Surely not another guest?” said Vinnie with a smile, holding out an elegant hand.

  Math shrugged. “Apparently we lost another reservation. Somehow we must have mislaid some after the fire. Vinnie Daniels, Brian.”

  Elain felt her throat close. “You’re staying?” No one knew better than she that no reservations had got lost because of the fire. But clearly someone knew that the excuse had already been successfully used to get a room. And the man reminded her of someone....

  “If you don’t object,” said the man jokingly, taking her hand. She couldn’t place his accent.

  Math finished the introductions, leaned against a table and bit unconcernedly into a tomato sandwich. “Brian is one of the railway
volunteers, here for two weeks.”

  “Oh, really! The Talyllyn Railway?” asked Davina.

  “That’s right. Have you had a ride?”

  Math poured him a glass of wine as Davina nodded. “What job do you have on the railway, Mr. Arthur?” she asked.

  “This year I’m fireman.”

  “It’s a sweet little railway,” Jeremy said, and there were murmurs of agreement. “I haven’t ridden it, but I’ve heard it’s fabulous.”

  “Very nice indeed,” said Brian Arthur. He turned to Elain. “How about you, Elain? Have you taken a ride on the Talyllyn?”

  Elain shook her head. She’d seen the brochure, but hadn’t read it. Something about a lot of volunteers restoring an old mining railway line.

  “Oh, you must go, Elain!” Vinnie exclaimed. “It’s a perfect little railway, and everyone has such fun. Railway lovers from all over Britain come to spend their holidays playing at engineers and conductors and ticket sellers.”

  Maybe they did, Elain thought. She smiled and made some response. Maybe they did. But the man who had just booked a room at the White Lady was not among their number.

  The person he reminded Elain of, she realized suddenly, was Raymond Derby. Brian Arthur was another detective, or she’d eat the table as well as the sandwiches.

  Chapter 14

  “They’ve sent someone else in,” Elain shouted. Rain was thudding against the phone box so she could scarcely hear. She was drenched, too. But she had wanted to talk to Raymond immediately, and if she’d taken the car, people would have seen her leave and be sure to ask her later where she’d been. She’d been caught in the downpour halfway to the village.

  But this was the last call she could make from here.

  “Who have?”

  “Your clients, damn them!” Elain said accusingly. “Raymond, please don’t tell me you don’t know if you do. I want to know what’s going on.”

  “They haven’t made the smallest suggestion to me of any such plans.”

  “Well, then, they’re double-crossing you,” Elain said darkly.

  Raymond sighed. “Red, you have unexpected shallows. But I think you told me that you were a fan of old movies.”

  Elain giggled self-consciously. “You’re right. Sorry. But you know what I mean.”

  “How sure are you that the man is an investigator?”

  She thought a moment. “Seventy per cent. Eighty.”

  “Mmm. And why now?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Because of what you just told me. They don’t think the tapestry burnt in the fire.”

  “I’m not convinced. They’re happy you’re there—even though you haven’t come up with much yet,” he added pointedly. “They’re prepared to give you the time to build up a trust.”

  Elain’s stomach heaved. Oh, yes, she was doing that all right. She was building up a trust. Thunder rumbled overhead and rain smashed the little phone box. The weather agreed with her stomach.

  She said, “Raymond, he used the same excuse I used—he claimed he’d had a reservation and the hotel must have lost it. Now, who but you and me and your clients knew that excuse worked?”

  “Everybody at the hotel, Red,” he replied. “Now, don’t get your knickers in a twist. There’s something you’re not telling me, something that’s happened. That’s why this guy’s turned up. Now, tell me what it is that’s happened, and then we can figure out who sent him in.”

  She was as good as dead anyway. It didn’t make her position with Math any worse, and if she told Raymond and he figured something out...

  “The fire exposed a secret passage in the basement. Someone had been hoarding goods during the war, and they’re all still there. Math reckons that’s where the petrol came from.”

  She could feel Raymond blink. The storm had settled into a steady downpour, and it streamed down the little panes of glass, enclosing her in her own world. The small, grubby world of betrayal.

  “I’m sure he’s right,” he said.

  “But it means somebody shifted it. Because it was on the other side of the passage wall when it went up, in the main part of the basement. Right under the room with the tapestry.”

  “Where does the passage lead?”

  “Probably it used to lead to the fortress I told you about. But there’s been a rockfall that’s closed the passage off, and now it leads nowhere.”

  “Nah, Red, you’re not thinking.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nobody’s going to risk setting a petrol fire and having to get out through the house, are they? That was the real problem with the arson theory. That tunnel leads somewhere. You find out where.”

  Outside in the village street, lightning struck a stationary car. For a second, she watched the glow envelop it, illuminating the ground underneath. Then came an almighty bang of thunder that threatened to flatten the world. “They’re out to get me, Raymond,” Elain said. “The elements, I mean.”

  But the line had gone dead.

  * * *

  “Do you ever think someone might be trying to force you out?” she asked Math as casually as she could over dinner that night. It was the one possibility she could think of that left Math innocent.

  “Out of where? The house?”

  “Yeah.”

  He grinned at her. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

  “I don’t know. Have you refused to sell to anyone lately?”

  Math smiled. “Ask Vinnie how long the place was on the market before I bought it. She had despaired of finding a buyer. And the value has dropped since, along with other property values during the recession. I’m not looking to sell, which is just as well. If I were, I’d be in trouble.”

  “No one’s offered?” she pressed.

  “No one has suggested a hair of interest in the place. It needs far too much renovation before it’ll be even a three-star hotel. Bathrooms have to be installed, the kitchens need modernizing.... The place was built on what’s called the unit system, Elain. You must see yourself how various doors and stairs lead to different parts of the house, which don’t interconnect. Where would an architect find space for all the bathrooms needed? You couldn’t do it without spoiling the proportions. It’s not the kind of hotel your average Japanese or American tourist would look twice at.”

  “But you used to be full in the summer.”

  “We have a small band of loyal but eccentric patrons who like Jessica, like the isolation, like the light and the wainscoting and the stone and even the antique plumbing. But that group is diminishing year by year. That’s why Vinnie was selling up in the first place. That, and her age. She thought a hotel chain might want it, or someone might want to turn it into a conference centre. But it’s too small to interest such people. It’s really best being restored to residential housing.”

  “Oh,” she said limply. “Math—do you have any enemies?”

  “Not as far as I know.” Math picked up her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. “Now tell me why you think I might have.”

  She looked at him. Suppose she just told him, right now, the truth about who she was and what she was doing? Suppose she said she was convinced of his innocence and wanted to help him prove it? Elain took a deep breath, then paused. But what if he were not? What if he lied, and she believed him, and then one day she found out the truth?

  “Hear you’ve found a secret passage under the house, Math,” said a voice. It was one of his regular customers, an English travel-guide writer who lived nearby. Elain had met him in the pub one night. He nodded to her now.

  “Word’s got out already, has it?” Math shrugged resignedly. “Well, it was bound to. If anyone asks you, will you spread the idea it’s not much of anything, Mel? A cache of rotting wartime supplies in a walled-up corner of the basement. All I need now is a couple of tourists falling into the basement and suing me.”

  The man laughed and agreed, and after a few more minutes moved away.

  Elain tried again. “Do you think Bria
n Arthur is who he says he is?”

  Math was clearly taken aback. “I haven’t thought about it. Why, who do you think he is?”

  “For a guy who’s supposed to be in love with trains, he sure hangs around the place a lot.”

  “It has been raining, Elain.”

  He wasn’t making excuses for the man. He just wasn’t interested. How would she ever succeed in putting him on his guard—and anyway, what did she want to put him on guard against? Math was right. There was nothing anybody wanted from him, and how likely was it he would have an enemy of this kind without knowing it?

  She wished he would take her seriously. If he’d put his mind to it, he might have remembered something, some clue that would tell her why someone had torched the White Lady Hotel.

  * * *

  Math filled two brandy snifters with Armagnac, passed her one and lifted his own, absently watching how the soft light sparkled in the honey-coloured liquid.

  She had come to his flat. It was beyond her to plead a headache again. Slowly the proportions of the hole she had dug for herself were being revealed: she was betraying Math with every breath she took; he might be a liar and a cheat; and yet she had not been able to find any way out of coming upstairs with him tonight.

  Now getting away would be even more difficult. What excuse could she find that would not put her at risk of the exposure she was trying to avoid? Math would question her, try to find out what was wrong. And she had no idea how good she might be at that sort of cover-up. She had never been under serious pressure on a job for Raymond before.

  And if she did stand up to his questioning, what was that but adding lies to lies? Even if Math were guilty, it was not Elain he was betraying, only his own honour. But she was guilty of terrible duplicity.

  He sat on his haunches in front of her, his arms resting on her thighs, his hands nursing the glass. He tilted his head up, offering a kiss, and it took no more than that for her body to kick into awareness. Whatever her head thought, her heart and her blood were his. Her smile of languid desire was entirely involuntary, and she thought, as she leaned forward and her mouth so eagerly found the soft heat of his, this is how women feel who love men who cheat, or who cheat men they love. I always wondered. Now I know.