Wicked Beauty

by Susan Lewis

  Sighing, and letting her head fall back against the seat, Laurie closed her eyes, and wished the journey could be over. All she wanted was to get home now, away from too much time to think and back to Rhona’s, where she might just creep under the blankets and never come out again. Chance would be a fine thing, for she’d already arranged to go and visit Katherine tomorrow, at the prison she’d been taken to, near Bristol, and as there was so much more to learn from her, she could see it turning into a fairly regular trip. What a horrible job she had, she thought, building her own success on the foundations of other people’s tragedies. Though after the talk she’d had with her, during the few hours before her arrest, she knew now that she had to start facing up to her own tragedy, for what she’d learned about Patrice Bombola had left precious little room for hope. He was as big an egomaniac as Franz Koehler, Katherine had said, and twice as dangerous. Remembering those words now, Laurie felt her heart burn with the pain of still not knowing for certain, and the dread of someone mentioning a memorial. Of course it was still far too soon for that, but the funeral today had started her thinking it, and now she just couldn’t get it out of her head.

  Deciding at least to try and get some sleep, she’d just curled up in the corner of her first-class seat, when her mobile started to ring. Checking the read-out to see if it was a call she wanted to take, her heart gave a lurch, and clicking on quickly she said, ‘Max. How are you?’

  ‘Cool,’ he answered. ‘How about you? How was the funeral?’

  ‘Gruelling,’ she answered, shifting to make herself more comfortable. ‘What’s happening your end?’

  ‘Things are starting to calm down a bit now,’ he told her. ‘About sixteen arrests so far, and more to come, they say. I don’t know if you’ve seen the news lately, but they’ve seized about forty mill, all in cash. Final destination still not known, but there’s a lot of speculation going on, as you can probably imagine. Where are you?’

  ‘On a train between Swindon and Reading. If you don’t know where that is, then I’m about an hour west of London. Where are you?’

  ‘A similar sort of distance south,’ he said.

  Laurie’s eyes widened. ‘You’re on your way back already?’

  ‘Yep. There’s not much more to be learned on the ground out there, at least not from my perspective, and after what you’ve been telling me about Katherine Sumner I’d kind of like to pay her a visit. Do you think she’ll see me?’

  ‘I’m sure she will,’ Laurie replied. ‘She’s given me the exclusive, but I think that extends to you.’

  ‘She could really help wrap this up for us,’ he said. ‘She’ll know more about Bombola than anyone else, which could help lead us to Elliot, but there’s some stuff I need from his computer before I see her. Is it still in his apartment?’

  ‘As far as I know,’ Laurie answered, bracing herself, for she knew what was coming next.

  ‘Can you meet me there?’ he said. ‘I take it it’s OK to go in now. Or is it still a crime scene?’

  ‘No, they’ve given it the all-clear,’ she told him, starting to sink back into despair. She didn’t want to go in there, she just didn’t. She was too emotional right now, and unable to cope.

  ‘So can you meet me?’ he said. ‘It shouldn’t take long.’

  ‘OK,’ she replied, reminding herself it was for Elliot. ‘Then I should give you your own key, so you can come and go as you like.’

  ‘Sure,’ he answered. ‘So I’ll see you in about an hour. Maybe an hour and a half.’

  As Laurie rode the lift up to Elliot’s flat so much gloom and tiredness was enveloping her that she knew once she got inside she’d just want to curl up in a corner and cry. She wondered how many more times she might take this lift before she was forced to start clearing everything out of the flat, the way Rachel was planning with her house, now she was coming back to London. She wondered if Elliot had made a will. If she should sell the flat. If she had any right to, even. He had no immediate family, but there was a cousin in Ireland, and a great-uncle somewhere up north. Would his ex-wife have a say? She doubted it, but she didn’t want to think about it; pushing it from her mind, she tried to concentrate on those blankets at Rhona’s that she was planning to disappear under just as soon as she could.

  As she stepped out of the lift, she looked along the hallway, and her heart sank. No sign of Max. She’d hoped he would get here first, so she could just let him in and leave. Now she would have to wait.

  Putting her heavy bag down as she reached the door, she rummaged for the key, then let herself in. The familiarity of it all, the feel, the smell, the early evening sunlight pooling on the sofas, engulfed her, as though it had been waiting, almost expecting her to return. She looked around and almost couldn’t stand it, for it all seemed so normal, so back together now the police had gone, that the past few weeks might never have happened – though she knew that a lot of the damaged furniture was piled up in the spare bedroom, awaiting repair. She’d hidden it there herself, after being allowed to clean the place up. She’d tried to arrange it just as he’d left it, ready for when he came back.

  Leaving her bag by the door, she took a couple of steps into the room, then found she could go no further. It still smelt of him, and the ache in her heart was so huge, she just couldn’t bear it. She took a breath, and tried to push herself on, then a jolt of fear caught at her heart, as someone stepped into the sunlight that was streaming in through the kitchen door.

  ‘Hello,’ he said.

  Her heart stopped beating.

  Folding his arms he leaned against the doorframe, moving out of the sunlight.

  She continued just to stare at him, taking in the wonderfully familiar features, his amusement, his uninjured body … Joy and disbelief collided in her heart, while the rest of her seemed unable to move. Then it was just too much, and covering her face with her hands she started to sob.

  Laughing, he came to her and pulled her into his arms. ‘Sorry, I should have given you some warning,’ he said, holding her tight. ‘I just wanted it to be a surprise.’

  She carried on crying, shuddering and gasping, as he stroked and kissed her hair, and gently shushed her. She didn’t even try to speak. All she wanted was to stay right here in his arms and forget that the rest of the world even existed.

  But at last she turned her ravaged face up to his and felt her heart melting all over again as his smile faded and his eyes darkened with love. Then his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her tenderly, then passionately, then lingeringly and lovingly. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said gruffly, when finally he let her go.

  She was still slightly blurred from the kiss. ‘I thought you were dead,’ she said. ‘We all did.’

  ‘You were supposed to,’ he responded. ‘It was part of the deal, and I had to go along with it.’

  She blinked. ‘What deal?’

  He looked at her dubiously. ‘Are you up for this now?’ he said.

  ‘Elliot!’ she cried. ‘I want to know what’s been happening. Where you’ve been.’

  He took a breath, then still holding her about the waist said, ‘OK, well, when the SIS set me up with an entry into the Phraxos Special Project, I swore I’d go along with whatever they said. I had to for my own safety, as well as for those who were already in there, under cover. I didn’t even know until after I’d been whisked out of Paris that Koehler had managed to find out who I was, or that Patrice Bombola had promised to ‘take care’ of me, which he did, splendidly, at a rather palatial home in Botswana, which is where I’ve been all this time.’

  She gaped in astonishment. ‘You mean Patrice Bombola is working for the British Government?’ she said incredulously.

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ he responded.

  She looked at him.

  He winked, then laughed as she crossed her eyes.

  ‘Details later,’ he promised, ‘but for now all you need to know is that Bombola saved my life after Franz Koehler gave the order for it to be ter
minated, and that in order to maintain Patrice’s cover, I had to stay out of sight and incommunicado, until I was given the all-clear.’

  ‘Which they presumably gave because Franz Koehler’s dead?’

  He nodded.

  ‘So how much of what you found out are you going to be able to use?’

  ‘I still don’t know. There’s a lot of sorting out to do, and the operation’s not over, so I’m still bound by the Official Secrets Act – and you should consider yourself bound with me.’ Tilting her chin up he kissed her again. ‘Max told me all about Katherine Sumner,’ he said. ‘So it sounds as though you’ve been busy too.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘There’s obviously so much overlap in our stories,’ she went on, loving the feel of the kisses he was planting all over her face and neck, ‘that I won’t be letting you out of my sight too often over the next couple of months.’

  ‘Mm, I could be happy with that,’ he murmured, moving his hands to the buttons at the front of her shirt. ‘In fact, I’m in need of seeing you fully in my sight right now, because of all the things I missed while I was at the luxury gaff, you came out on top every time.’

  She could already feel the heat of her own desire, as she lowered her head to watch his fingers slip each button free. Then after pulling the hem from the waist of her jeans, he pushed the shirt down over her arms and let it fall to the floor. She looked up at his face, then her eyes fluttered in a wave of pleasure as he unhooked the front fastener of her bra and peeled it from her breasts.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he murmured, and scooping their fullness in his hands, he stooped to kiss the hard buds of her nipples.

  ‘Elliot,’ she said breathlessly, lifting his mouth back to hers, ‘aren’t we missing something?’

  ‘Do we need it?’ he asked, kissing her.

  ‘I’m talking about an opera.’

  ‘I know. But are you up to it, because the way I’m feeling right now it won’t stop at the Ride of the Valkyries, it’ll be the whole damned Ring.’

  With a splutter of laughter, she said, ‘Then since I’ve just got off a train, I’ll go to the bathroom for a moment, and let you decide whether you really think you can live up to that.’

  A few minutes later, after taking the fastest shower of her life, she was drying herself down and smiling as the opening bars of Wagner’s masterpiece began filling the flat. It was still incredible to her that he was actually here, and alive, though in spite of the euphoria, she remained ludicrously close to tears. But that was tiredness, and nerves, because she desperately didn’t want anything to spoil this homecoming, especially not her own urgency to get everything properly sorted. There would be plenty of time to deal with all the issues they still had, so she would just make herself forget them for tonight, even though it would make everything so utterly perfect if it did work out, and now she’d made up her mind to do it, did she really want to delay?

  The bedroom was in semi-darkness when she stepped out of the bathroom, wearing no more than the perfume he liked best. He was lying on the bed, apparently naked, though a single sheet covered him to the waist and he had one arm thrown over his eyes. She waited for him to look up, but obviously the music had drowned the sound of her entrance, so she walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. To her surprise, he still didn’t move, so sliding a hand across his chest, she leaned down to kiss him. When he didn’t kiss her back she sat up again, and stared down at him in amazement.

  ‘Are you asleep?’ she demanded.

  There was no reply.

  ‘Elliot Russell, I don’t believe you!’ she laughed. ‘The whole Ring indeed! You couldn’t even make the overture.’

  Still he didn’t move, and as his lips parted, indicating that he’d just sunk to an even deeper level of sleep, she lay down beside him and snuggled in close. Then after a while, keeping her voice low, she decided to have a practice. ‘Elliot. Will you marry me?’ she whispered. Then, ‘Will you marry me, Elliot?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he replied.

  She froze, then drew back to look at him.

  He raised his arm, and cast her a roguish look.

  ‘I thought you were asleep!’ she cried.

  ‘I was, but now I’m engaged.’

  Laughing, she collapsed back on to the pillows. ‘You know, I love you so much that I just can’t find the words,’ she said, as he turned on his side to look at her.

  ‘You know, I was having the same problem,’ he responded, reaching past her to the nightstand, ‘so I thought this might do it for me.’

  She looked down at the little box he was holding, and a shock ran through her. ‘Is that what I think it is?’ she said, turning to look at him.

  ‘No,’ he answered. ‘And you only get one guess.’

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ she cried, grabbing his hand, as he started to put it back.

  Letting the box go, he watched her as she opened it, then felt an enormous swelling in his own heart, as hers obviously overflowed because she was crying again.

  ‘Oh, Elliot, it’s a diamond,’ she wept.

  ‘Is it?’ he said, sounding surprised.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ she laughed, lifting the small, perfectly round stone with its plain gold band from the velvet crease. ‘Just perfect.’

  Taking it from her, he waited for her to hold out her left hand, then sliding it on to the third finger he said, ‘I love you, Laurie Forbes, and yes, I think it’s about time you made an honest man of me.’

  Petey was leaving in three days for Hollywood! He’d have gone sooner, but ever since the funeral the world had been calling him morning, noon and night to discuss all the rumours that were flying around, so he’d just had to delay his flight in order to assure them all that yes, of course he was utterly devastated, and no he didn’t believe she’d committed suicide … Though actually, yes, he did think there was a teensy little chance she might just have been pushed. Well, no, it was true, he hadn’t thought that until a couple of days ago, but since her husband had been arrested, OK, for currency smuggling, not murder, but really, it was enough to make anyone have second thoughts …

  ‘After all, sweetie,’ he said to Gloria when she called, ‘we always knew he was up to no good, so heaven only knows what he’s capable of.’

  ‘So you do think he did it?’ Gloria replied eagerly.

  ‘How would I know, sweetie, I wasn’t there. I’m just saying, anything’s possible.’

  ‘And what about the rumours that he was having an affair with Rachel Hendon? Are they true?’

  ‘Well, darling, you saw them at the funeral. Closer than the cheeks of a virgin’s bum, I’d say. So draw your own conclusions.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Gloria murmured. ‘It makes you start wondering about all sorts of things that, doesn’t it? I mean like Tim Hendon’s death, and whose baby she’s carrying. And then we get back to what really happened on those cliffs.’

  ‘Ah well,’ he chirruped, ‘maybe we should be adhering to the sublime advice of the bard when he says, “Things without all remedy, should be without regard: what’s done is done.”’

  Gloria hesitated.

  ‘Lady Macbeth,’ he told her, rolling his eyes.

  A few minutes later they rang off, with Gloria for once having forgotten to mention the fire, and why Stacey might have started it; so he hadn’t brought it up either. Indeed he was more than happy to forget that curious little part of the puzzle, which was really only a mystery to everyone else. However, provided no one ever told what they knew about those pretty little hand-made boxes and their precious sweet cargo, he would never tell what he knew about Anna.

  Chapter 31

  THE TRAFFIC WAS always bad trying to get out of London at Christmas, even in the mornings, and today was proving no exception as Rachel battled her way down towards the M3, hoping to get at least as far as the Devon/Cornwall border before nightfall. With Beanie driving they’d almost certainly make it, but Rachel wasn’t prepared to take the risk. So Beanie had been relega
ted to the back seat, along with the carrycot, nappies, sterilizing units and all the other paraphernalia no modern baby would dream of travelling without.

  ‘Still asleep?’ Rachel said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

  Beanie peeled back the edge of a downy white blanket, and melted. ‘Still asleep,’ she confirmed. ‘What time’s his next feed?’

  Rachel grimaced; the weight of her breasts might suggest it was overdue. ‘Another hour or so,’ she answered. ‘We can stop somewhere around Salisbury Plain. By the way, did you remember to call Dick at the farm, and ask him to keep us a Christmas tree?’

  ‘He’s staying open till we get there,’ Beanie told her. ‘Don’t matter how late, he said. He’s got us a nice one.’

  Rachel’s pleasure was stolen by a wave of sadness as she thought of Tim, and how very different this Christmas was going to be without him, yet with his son who had captured her heart in a way she simply hadn’t been prepared for. Of course she’d often heard mothers talking about how a child changed their lives and perspective completely, but she’d never really understood then just how profound the change could be. It was as though nothing had the same importance any more, old grievances seemed petty, and ambitions necessary only to the extent that they would enrich and protect her son. He was so utterly and completely the focus of her life that even to think of him, with all his raspberries, fist boxing, kicking and peeing into the air, filled her heart with so much love she couldn’t begin to contain it.

  Pressing hard on the accelerator to get them past a slow-moving lorry, she turned the radio on low to listen to the news. The struggling economy was still holding the headlines, with the National Health Service making it to second place, while the Prime Minister’s plans for Christmas ended the short bulletin. Turning it off again, she sped on down the middle lane, and wondered if the small role she’d played in recent events would ever be revealed. She hoped not, for certain elements of the press would almost certainly turn it into something salacious and self-serving, the way they’d turned her friendship with Chris Gallagher into a full-blown affair. Even worse had been the shameless media trial they’d conducted when Chris had failed to achieve bail: they’d found him guilty of all charges, including some he hadn’t even been arrested for.