Alex pulled the coverlet over her head and tried to push her right out of her mind, letting herself be soothed by the gentle throbbing of the ship’s engines far below.
‘It’s not your death, my dear. But it will touch you in some way.’ The bloody words kept running through her head and she couldn’t get them out, and she resolved to keep as far away from the woman as possible for the rest of the cruise.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to. The major, who seemed to know everything, reported that Mrs W had found a new friend, and the two women were seen with their heads close together like two nodding old hens every time Alex glimpsed them, until the ship finally docked at Dover.
Maybe the new friend should be warned, Alex thought, and then shrugged. It was none of her business, and in any case the cruise was almost over.
***
In the aftermath of a good holiday Alex felt good to be home, viewing her flat with new and appreciative eyes the way you always did when you had been away from something for a while. She had wanted to enjoy her two weeks without getting too attached to any group of people, and she had hopefully managed it without appearing too stand-offish.
Now, she relished being back in her London flat, and rediscovering the familiarity of it all. There was a mountain of mail to answer, and there would be more at her office. She could leave all that for now, but she could never ignore the flashing messages on her answering machine.
She switched it on while she wandered about the flat, dumping her luggage; kicking off her shoes and scattering her clothes, and slipping into her silky kimono in the luxury of being completely alone; making coffee, and drinking it black since there was no milk, and then thinking what the hell, the holiday wasn’t over yet, and lacing it with vodka…
The first message on her machine took her by surprise. It was from an old friend coming to town and wondering if they could meet up. Alex sighed, wondering what on earth Rose Harding could possibly be coming to London for. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her again. She remembered her as a scatter-brained girl who lived on a neighbouring farm to Alex’s parents.
Rose belonged to another life, and one that Alex had left behind years ago, in the days when she was Audrey Barnes, a Yorkshire lass with a broad Dales accent and no more than a childhood dream of becoming a somebody.
She certainly didn’t despise her past, knowing that the past helped to shape the people they became. It was just that she was different now, having shed that part of her life as easily as if it was another skin. The persona of Alexandra Best, private investigator, suited her so much better, particularly since she had achieved it by her own efforts.
And she suspected from the cornfed note in Rose Harding’s voice, that she was still the same as she had ever been. But she duly noted down the phone number, and made a mental promise to call her back when she had a moment.
There were a number of boring messages next, telling her that her dry cleaning was ready; and did she want replacement windows? And were there any children in the house, as a photographic firm was doing a fantastic offer for Easter…
A more familiar voice on the machine made her smile. It was rich and dark and sexy and it was Nick’s.
‘Welcome home, Alex. Good trip? Give me a call when you’ve had time to recover. I’ve got things to tell you.’
At the click that ended the telephone call, Alex fumed. If that wasn’t just like Nick, leaving her dangling with the hint of something to tell her that just might be exciting. And he knew damn well she had been born curious…
She was dialling his number on her mobile without even realizing it. He answered briskly, and she knew he was at his desk, and that she shouldn’t have called in the middle of his busy day. But so what?
‘Nick, it’s me. Alex. I’m back.’
‘Alex!’ The voice became several shades warmer, and she could almost imagine him turning away from his colleagues, smiling into the receiver with that smouldering smile of his, fingers curling around the telephone cord, his long legs stretching out luxuriously in front of him…
God, she must have been more lacking in decent male company than she realized, Alex thought faintly…
‘So how was it? Did it come up to expectations? How many conquests did you make?’
At the condescending question, her magnanimity towards him vanished. He was a male chauvinist of the first order, and she snapped back into the phone.
‘I might have expected that from you! I didn’t go on a cruise just to score—’
‘Hard luck. All old codgers, were they?’ he said lazily, reading her far too correctly, damn him. ‘Never mind. I’ll book a table for tonight, since if I know you, you won’t bother opening a freezer meal, let alone boil an egg. I’ll pick you up around eight o’clock, OK?’
‘You’ve got a bloody nerve—’ she began, and then, knowing he was damn right, she laughed.
Besides, she wanted to know whatever it was he had to tell her, and she’d get it far more easily over a meal and a few drinks. And the diet could start tomorrow.
‘OK,’ she said, and hung up before her curiosity could get the better of her.
When she had sorted out the clothes to be taken to the launderette she switched on the answering machine again. There were a couple more messages, a second one from Nick telling her to call him as soon as she got home — which she wouldn’t have done if she’d heard that imperious order…
***
He arrived promptly at eight o’clock, taking her in his beefy arms and exuding a scent of expensive after-shave that was manly and macho, as befitted a detective inspector, Alex thought, hiding a grin as she was pressed so tightly to his chest that she could hardly breathe.
‘My God, I’ve missed you,’ he said, holding her at arm’s length when he’d had his fill of kissing and wanted to do his share of looking. ‘There’s truth in the old saying about absence making the heart grow fonder after all.’
‘Pull the other one, Nick,’ she said, swiftly reminding herself that he could be as ruthless or as gentle as he chose, whether he was interrogating a suspect or charming a woman. It was part of his skill as a policeman and a man, and he could do it at will.
It would be foolish to be taken in by him when he got that horny look in his eyes that said she was the only one he had ever wanted. She was tired and vulnerable. Even as she thought it, she wondered why, when a holiday was supposed to pep you up. But somehow it hadn’t. Not this one.
‘All right, so you’re not in the mood for seduction,’ he grinned back. ‘Maybe you will be when you hear what I’ve got to tell you. Maybe you’ll realize you wanted me after all.’
‘What do you mean? Don’t talk as if I’m losing you.’
‘You are. And I didn’t mean to blurt it out right away. I meant to ply you with drinks until you couldn’t resist me, then bring you home and make wild, passionate love to you—’
‘For God’s sake, Nick! What’s happened?’ She twisted out of his arms, empty inside, and she didn’t even know why yet.
‘I’m being transferred,’ he said abruptly. ‘There’s a likely promotion in the offing as well, and I want you to come with me, Alex. You can be part of it.’
‘Transferred to where?’ she said, unable to think of anything else he said.
She was right. She was losing him, and it was an unthinkable prospect. He was her friend, her old reliable, always there when she needed him, at the end of a phone for help and advice and never laughing at her crazy intuitions; well, not often — and preventing her from making a bloody fool of herself on more than one occasion
‘You’d better sit down. You look quite pale under that tan, and I didn’t realize the news was going to have such an effect on you, darling,’ she heard him say. ‘If this means you’re going to consider my offer, then I’d better come right out with it. Marry me, Alex, and come to Devon with me.’
He was pushing her down on the sofa before she knew what was happening. His arms were still around her, his lips s
till seductively close to her mouth as he spoke. He had always been a temptation, even though she had managed to resist him so far, and she closed her eyes for a moment, because in a crazy way it sometimes helped to see things more clearly…
Then she pushed him away.
‘This promotion,’ she said accusingly. ‘I presume it would be more likely to happen if you had a wife, would it?’
She dared him to contradict it, but she knew he wouldn’t. They had always been honest with one another, at least on the personal front, and he gave a rueful laugh now.
‘OK, so you’ve seen through me. But haven’t I been asking you for ever to marry me—?’
‘No. We never had that kind of relationship—’
‘We never had any kind of relationship. You always held me off, when you knew how I felt about you — how I feel about you — and maybe I never said it in so many words—’
Alex sighed. ‘Nick, I don’t want to marry anybody right now. If I did, it would probably be you.’
‘My God, that’s enough to deflate any man’s libido. Have you any idea how maddening that word “probably” is?’
She leaned forward and kissed him. ‘Well, just be thankful for small mercies — no slight to your ego intended and take me out to dinner like you promised. Or is that off now? I still want to hear about this transfer to Devon, and exactly when I’m going to lose my best friend.’
And he had always been just that. She had few close friends. In her job it was difficult, so you learned to treasure your trusted best friends, and she would miss him like hell when he was no longer around.
He stood up and pulled her to her feet. ‘All right, let’s go. And I want to hear all about this cruise, and the people who were on it.’
***
She discovered that he was leaving in a month’s time, and his replacement was moving in before then. By the time they got back to her flat that night, he had promised to introduce Alex to him, but she was aggressively against the whole idea.
‘Why would I want to meet him? If he’s anything like your pig of a station sergeant, he’ll just despise me. Female and a private eye — can there be any two things more guaranteed to rub a copper’s nose in it?’ she said.
‘You’ll like this guy, but not too much, I hope,’ Nick said, arrogant as ever. ‘I knew him slightly some years back so I’ve no objection to him taking over my patch. His name’s Scott Nelson. So now you know all about my plans, you can tell me what’s been bugging you ever since you got home. I know there’s something.’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Come on, Alex. I know you too well, remember? Did they show Titanic in the ship’s cinema or something? Or did somebody come knocking on your cabin door in the middle of the night to spook you?’
She caught her breath. It was that one word. If he hadn’t used it, she might have passed it off. As it was, her hand shook over the coffee pot, and he stilled it with his own.
‘What happened, sweetheart?’
‘Nothing, and I’m just being stupid, but I suppose I might as well tell you. There was this woman — a clairvoyant by all accounts. I hardly spoke to her, but she gave me the creeps. And I had my suspicions that she might have been a con woman. There was no real reason for it, just an instinct. You know me and instincts! And I’m talking too fast, aren’t I?’ she finished abruptly.
‘What made you think she might have been a con woman?’ Nick said, ignoring everything else, and getting to the important bits.
It was part of his stock-in-trade. It was what made him a good copper. A suspect could ramble on for hours, and in the end, Nick would question him on the one point that might have got lost in anybody else’s conversation.
‘I really don’t know,’ Alex said more slowly. ‘There was just something about her — the ability to merge into the background most of the time, and then becoming animated when she was in conversation with some elderly lady. Not with me, though. She hardly said a word to me, except once.’
‘She must have been a good one then,’ Nick said lazily.
‘A good what?’
‘Clairvoyant. She probably saw right through you, darling, and wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with a private eye.’
‘Now you’re worrying me even more,’ Alex snapped. ‘I never asked her about herself, either, and it was somebody else who told me about her being a clairvoyant.’
‘So perhaps this other person told her about you too. Look, forget her and tell me about the rest of the cruise. Or better yet, let’s get horizontal instead. I really did miss you, Alex. I missed you like hell.’
He could be very persuasive, and when his voice deepened to a more seductive tone it was enough to make her toes tingle. She was lying half under him on the sofa and before she could gather her senses, his mouth was possessively on hers.
She kissed him back, breathing him in, tasting him. She liked him a lot. More than that. She loved him, in the way you loved your best friend, but not as a lover. He knew that. They both knew it, and after a moment or two she struggled out of his embrace, laughing to take the sting out of her words.
‘For God’s sake, Nick, I haven’t got my breath back yet, and I need some sleep. Go home, and call me tomorrow.’
‘And is that your final word?’ he said, in his best quizmaster voice.
‘Believe me it is!’
***
She was still smiling after he had gone, but she really was extra-ordinarily tired. She felt as if she had run a marathon, which was a laugh in itself, and she silently resolved to get more exercise. She needed to work out at the gym — or maybe just a run around the park, she amended.
She hadn’t forgotten any of her karate skills, but a fat lot of good any of it would be if she had to chase after a suspect. It was time to think about work, and she could already feel the surge of anticipation at the thought of tackling a new case.
But when she finally tumbled into bed, she couldn’t sleep. In the end she decided to give up and open some of her mail. So far she had managed to ignore it. There was the usual collection of junk mail, a few bills and enough cheques to counteract them, and several letters. One envelope had a Yorkshire postmark, and after a few moments she vaguely recognized the childish handwriting of Rose Harding.
She opened it quickly. She hadn’t heard from her in years, and she would decide whether she wanted to pursue the acquaintance after she had read the letter — or to see if she could possibly get out of it. The mild guilt at the thought was magnified as she read the letter, written in one long, non-stop paragraph, the way Rose used to talk.
…You were always so sensible, Audrey — or do I have to call you Alexandra now? Anyway, I’d just like to talk to you, and if you’d come to the clinic with me, I’d be ever so grateful. Auntie’s too nervous to come with me, but I need somebody to hold my hand, and I don’t know anybody else in London. Oh, but you don’t know, do you? After Dad left me all his money, I moved in with Auntie Ruth in York. Then I got this illness, and I can afford the best treatment, but I’ve already tried everything. I’ve been to America to see a top specialist, and tried crank diets, and crystal healing, and paid the earth for pills that are still on trial. I’ve had chemotherapy that made me sick, and I don’t want any more, thank you very much. I even went to a psychic in York who was on a tour, but it didn’t do any good. None of them did. These people think they know everything, don’t they, but they can’t cure the common cold, let alone cancer. Then I heard about this clinic in London, and it’s just about my last hope. I’m told I’ve only got weeks rather than months, so I have to get on with it, don’t I? I thought you’d have called me back by now, which is why I’m writing to you instead. I have to go to the clinic tomorrow.
Your old friend, Rose.
By the time she had finished reading the rambling letter, Alex was sitting bolt upright up in bed, rigid to her toes, and with tears of shock in her eyes. She felt terrible, knowing she had been trying to get out of meeting this girl at all.
Rose had spoken on the answering machine on the day Alex’s cruise began, and the letter was dated nine days ago.
There was no way Alex could sleep now. It was nearly midnight, but she had to find out what was happening. She dialled the telephone number at the top of Rose’s letter, and after a considerable time, she heard the flat, rasping Yorkshire tones of an elderly woman. She remembered Rose’s formidable Auntie Ruth, and for a moment she quailed.
‘I’m sorry to bother you at such a late hour,’ she stammered, thrown right back to her childhood days. ‘But may I please speak to Rose?’
There was silence at the other end, and then the voice spoke harshly again.
‘Who is this, please?’
‘It’s — Audrey — Audrey Barnes, Mrs Harding,’ Alex gulped, furious to realize she was lapsing into her own natural dialect, but knowing it was the only way the woman would believe her. ‘Rose wrote to me, but I’ve been away—’
‘You don’t sound like Audrey Barnes, and we’ve had enough cranks around here lately.’
‘I assure you that I am,’ Alex said desperately, considering the years she’d denied her own background. ‘And what do you mean about cranks?’
‘Oh, all that psychic healing nonsense she was getting into and suchlike. But ‘tis all too late for that. Rose passed over last week, so you can’t talk to ‘er, anyway.’
The phone went dead, and Alex stared at it in disbelief. Until today she had forgotten Rose’s existence, and now she was dead, and it was hitting her as hard as if she had just lost her best friend.
It was crazy... but before she could stop herself she was dialling Mrs Harding’s number again.
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Harding,’ she babbled. ‘But this psychic that Rose consulted. It wasn’t someone called Leanora Wolstenholme, was it?’
Illusions (Alexandra Best Investigations Book 2) Page 2
