Vengeance in the Sun

by Margaret Pemberton

  “That’s nice,” she said in a voice of intense satisfaction. “I like Steve. Will he have some candy?”

  “You don’t like people just because they give you sweets,” I said chidingly.

  “I don’t. I like him because he makes me laugh and he carries me on his shoulder and gives me swings.”

  “That’s all right then.”

  “I sat at the top of the stairs last night and watched some of the party.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have. You should have been tucked up in bed.”

  “But I wanted to see people and Mario sneaked me some trifle and cake and lemonade and sat with me and told me who people were. I had my dressing-gown on,” she added defensively.

  I smiled. “ You win. Did you enjoy it?”

  “I thought you looked super. Mario said you looked super too.”

  “Thank you,” I said gravely.

  “I saw the film star lady as well. She’s ever so beautiful. More beautiful than Miss Blanchard. I think I’d like to be a film star when I grow up and wear pretty clothes and have a famous husband. That lady’s husband is very famous. Mario said so. Mario said he was brilliant.”

  I decided it was time to change the subject.

  “How do you want your hair cutting? Your mummy said you could have it how you wanted as long as you had your fringe short.”

  “I wish my hair was curly,” she said with a sigh. “ Curly hair is very pretty.”

  “Straight hair can be pretty too.”

  Danielle brightened. “Janet had straight hair and hers was pretty.…”

  Janet. Janet. It was like being followed by a ghost. I wondered what Steve wanted with her photograph. From the suppressed excitement in his voice, it was more than just idle curiosity. I glanced at my watch. Half one. Another hour and a half and I would know. Whatever it was, I hoped it would be something that would take my mind off Max.…

  Chapter Twelve

  There was no sign of him when we arrived, but when we came out half an hour later he was leaning against the bonnet of his car.

  “Hello, little one,” he said, taking hold of Danielle’s hand. “You look rather special.”

  “I’ve had my hair cut. Do you like it?”

  “It looks great. How about an ice-cream?”

  “Oooh, super.…”

  “Don’t you ever think of anything else but eating?” I asked him.

  “Sometimes,” he said with a meaningful grin. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

  “Yes, but it’s a little difficult at the moment,” I indicated Danielle.

  “Don’t worry. There’s plenty of time.”

  We began to stroll down the sunlit street, “Have you seen anything of Katjavivi this morning?”

  “No. He and John Van de Naude flew to London at lunchtime.”

  “London?” Steve stared at me. “I thought they were going to Lusaka, and not until the end of the week?”

  “I know. Apparently they are meeting what Helena calls the rest of the support committee in London first and flying on to Lusaka from there. Why did you want to see Janet Grey’s photograph?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “I wanted to show it to a friend of mine.”

  “But why?”

  “There’s a paper seller outside the Ria Square flats. He’s there from early morning to late night. He says a powder-blue Cadillac used to park outside the flats regularly.”

  “I don’t understand. Why were you asking the paper seller about the car?”

  He shrugged. “Call it instinct. Whatever it was, it paid dividends. He also remembered the guy who drove it. He remembered him because of his hair.”

  I stopped dead, staring at him. “ What about his hair?”

  “It was red, interesting don’t you think?”

  “Red?” I repeated disbelievingly. “Are you trying to tell me it was Ian Lyall driving that car?”

  “No. You saw the driver and you said he was dark. It couldn’t have been Lyall.”

  “Well then.…”

  “But it does make me think Ian Lyall knows more about things than he’s letting on.”

  “I’m sorry, Steve. None of this is making sense to me.”

  “It’s not making much to me,” he said grimly. “But it will. Given time.”

  “Why do you want to show the paper seller Janet’s photograph?”

  “Instinct again.…”

  Despite the sun I felt suddenly cold. “You think it was Ian Janet was meeting?”

  “I don’t know. What I do know, is that Janet Grey died in Ria Square and that Lyall has been very silent about the fact that he was and is a visitor there. I know something else as well.”

  “What?” I asked, the nerves tightening unpleasantly in my stomach.

  He shook his head. “ Later. After I’ve shown Pedro the photograph.”

  Danielle was hopping on and off the kerb as cars and taxis hurtled by. I hurried forward and took her hand.

  “We can’t all go.”

  Steve looked at Danielle. “No, perhaps not. What about you two going for an ice-cream somewhere. I shouldn’t be more than half an hour, I’ll meet you back at the car.”

  He gave my hand a tight squeeze and then turned back, striding rapidly through throngs of strolling tourists. Danielle stared after him disappointed.

  “He didn’t stay very long, did he?” she asked, her mouth pouting a little.

  “He’s coming back in a little while. Would you like that ice-cream?”

  “Ooh yes,” she said, her face brightening immediately. “Can I have one with chocolate on please?”

  “Yes,” I said, wishing my own worries could be so easily forgotten.

  What Steve was suggesting was unthinkable. The paper seller had made a mistake. He must see hundreds of people. It wasn’t possible that he would remember one car and one driver. I persuaded Danielle to sit down at a street cafe and have a lemonade with her ice-cream, so that I could have a welcome cup of coffee. The heat was beating up from the pavement in stifling waves and I already had the beginning of a headache. I drank the coffee, convincing myself that Steve was on a wild goose chase. A dark shadow fell across the table, I looked up, expecting to see him, and Max said: “ Feeling in a more reasonable mood today?” His voice was tight, as if he were exercising great self control in keeping his temper. He took off his sunglasses and straddled an opposite chair. A nerve twitched at the side of his jaw, and even beneath his tan I could see he was unusually pale.

  “No,” I said, struggling to control my voice. “Is there any reason why I should?”

  “You’d try the patience of a saint, Brat.”

  “You hardly fall into that category!”

  His eyes held mine. “No. But I’ve done nothing to deserve this sort of behaviour.”

  Danielle was listening with interest.

  “Are you going to marry this boyfriend of yours?”

  “What I do in the future is my own affair.…”

  “Are you going to marry him?”

  “Yes,” I lied, wanting to hurt him as he had hurt me.

  He stood up abruptly. “Then there’s nothing more to be said, but I’m damned if I’ll wish you every happiness!”

  I stared at him, at the anguish in his eyes, the bitter lines of his mouth.

  “Max … I said uncertainly, then with growing conviction. “ Max!”

  But he was already striding away down the crowded sidewalk. Grasping a protesting Danielle by the hand, I hastily left some coins on the table and raced after him. The jostling tourists surged between us like a flood.

  “Max!” I shouted. “Max!” but the noise of the traffic and laughing, chattering holiday makers that thronged around me, drowned my voice.

  He stepped free of the crowds, crossing the road with rapid strides and scant regard for traffic. Tightening my hold on Danielle’s hand I prepared to follow. A lorry surged past, forcing me back on the pavement, and when it had gone, Max was already on the far side of
the road. I took a deep breath, my mouth framing his name, the sound dying on my lips.

  A familiar red Audi was parked at the opposite kerb. Leonie’s blonde head laughed provocatively up at him as he slid in beside her. Her hands tightened on the wheel and with a surge of dust the car swung out into the main stream of traffic.

  “I didn’t know you knew Miss Blanchard’s new boyfriend?” Danielle said solemnly.

  “Neither did I,” I said bleakly. “ Until a few minutes ago.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I wonder where his friends are? I’d like to see the film star lady again and her husband. He was nice. He sneaked upstairs to talk to me when I was sitting on the landing. He comes from Russia. That’s nearly as far away as Africa!”

  “Yes,” I said, still staring down the crowded street, the Audi no longer in sight. “ He would do. Fedor likes children.”

  “Mummy was awfully cross with Miss Blanchard for bringing her boyfriend to the party. I heard her saying that in the circumstances she should have told us who it was she was bringing. What do you think she meant by circumstances?”

  “I really don’t know, Danny. You listen to other people’s conversations too much. It isn’t polite.”

  “But it’s the only way I get to know anything,” Danielle said practically. “ Mario said it was because of you. That you were going to marry him and that you changed your mind. Is that true?”

  “Yes … no.…”

  “Gosh, I think you were awfully silly. I’d have married him. Do you think Miss Blanchard will marry him now that you won’t?”

  “Not,” I said with frightening intensity. “ If I can help it!”

  She skipped along beside me, holding my hand and chattering, but I was no longer listening. I had to find out where Max was staying. I had to see him. Somehow I had to explain.

  “Look, there’s Steve!” Danielle called out happily. “And he’s got a doll. Do you think it’s for me?” and she darted towards him. He swung her up in his arms and gave her a hug before setting her on her feet and giving her an old-fashioned rag doll.

  “Ooh, isn’t she lovely?” Danielle was squealing. “ Thank you ever so much. I shall call her Emmeline. She looks like an Emmeline, doesn’t she?”

  “If you say so.” Steve took my hand. His eyes met mine, grimly triumphant and I was aware of a sickening sensation deep in the pit of my stomach. He said, lowering his voice: “ The paper seller says he saw her visit the flats twice. Once with the red-haired man. Once on the day of her death.”

  “But that doesn’t make any difference to the way she died. Ian wasn’t there then!”

  “To the best of my knowledge Ian Lyall has never admitted ever going to the Ria Square flats.”

  I thought back over the scraps of conversation I had had with Peggy. It was true. Ian’s name had never been mentioned, and Peggy wasn’t one to leave a detail like that out.

  “And he denied being there the other night when we saw him.” Steve said flatly.

  I nodded unwillingly. “ He was quite emphatic about it. He said we had made a mistake. That people often make mistakes about him.”

  “I bet they do!” Steve said.

  We walked on in silence for a little while, and then I said: “ What was the other thing you were going to tell me?”

  He breathed in deeply, staring straight ahead of him to where Danielle skipped happily along on the pavement.

  “I went to the police to tell them the car they were looking for had, in the past, been regularly parked outside the Ria Square flats.”

  “And?”

  “They didn’t know what I was talking about. No incident involving a powder-blue Cadillac has been reported to them. They have no record of Helena Van de Naude ever telephoning them. If they had, they would most certainly have wanted to speak to you themselves.”

  “But why.…” I said, completely bewildered.

  “That,” Steve said, “is what I’d like to know. Why indeed?”

  The heat didn’t help me think any clearer. It beat out of the ground in relentless waves.

  “No matter how I try I can’t think of a logical explanation,” I said as we crossed the street and entered a small square, gay with flowers.

  “There isn’t one that exactly hits you between the eyes,” Steve agreed.

  “But there will be one,” I insisted. “At least where Helena is concerned.”

  “And Ian Lyall?”

  I remained silent, pondering on the puzzle that was Ian Lyall. We walked on for a little way beneath the welcome shade of lime trees, and then he said quietly: “Has it occurred to you that she may have known the car was one Ian had the use of? That it belonged to a friend of his? If that’s the case she may well have been reluctant to telephone the police and get Ian involved.”

  “But she knew it wasn’t Ian driving! I would have recognised him!”

  “But if it was a friend of his?” Steve persisted.

  “Her only child was nearly killed!” I said, feeling again all my rage at the unknown driver. “ Dear God, it wasn’t a minor traffic offence! Even if it was a friend of Ian’s she would have still wanted him caught!”

  “But she didn’t report it.”

  “Then she must have had a reason.”

  “Like Lyall has a reason for saying he isn’t in Ria Square when we both clearly see him? Like he has a reason for not admitting to the fact that he, too, often drives a powder-blue Cadillac?”

  “Stop it!” I said, my nerves stretched to breaking point. “We’re just going round in circles. The only thing to do is to ask Helena why she didn’t report the accident to the police, and ask Ian outright about the car and the visit to the flats he made with Janet!”

  Steve’s mouth was set in a tight line. “Not yet, Lucy. I don’t want you to say anything to either of them just yet.”

  “But why? The sooner we find out the better!”

  “No. There’s something else. Something I haven’t told you yet.”

  People brushed past us but I was hardly aware of them. The tone of his voice froze me.

  “Will you trust me, Lucy? Go back to the villa and behave as if nothing has happened. I’ll come out tomorrow afternoon and we’ll speak to them together.”

  “And the thing you haven’t told me yet?”

  He breathed heavily, the corners of his mouth pinched and white.

  “That can wait till tomorrow as well. After all, I could be wrong. I want to make sure first. Quite, quite sure.”

  “And you’ll know by tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  We carried on walking in silence till we came to the car. Then he took both my hands in his.

  “I’ll be over tomorrow afternoon. We’ll speak to Helena Van de Naude then. Okay?”

  I nodded. He bent his head and kissed me gently. “Take care, Lucy.”

  With my headache raging worse than ever, I drove through the busy streets of Palma and onto the mountain road home. For once Danielle was quiet, Emmeline hugged close to her chest, her breathing deepening as she fell asleep.

  It wasn’t only Steve’s mystery that was causing the blinding pain behind my eyes. It was the thought of Max. The air of cold finality as he had walked away from me. The minute I reached the villa I would telephone all the leading hotels in Palma. It wouldn’t take long to find him. To explain what a fool I’d been. And then … and then.…

  The image of Leonie, silken-haired and softly laughing, made me bite my lip till I tasted blood. It was Leonie who had told Ian Max had married Claudette. Leonie who had deliberately lied, calculatingly making her entrance with him at the party in the company of Claudette and Fedor, knowing full well what I believed and letting me go on believing it. Leonie who wanted Max for herself.…

  The car slowed as we climbed up the jutting headland to the villa. The courtyard gates were open wide and Mario, white-faced, was standing agitatedly by the fountain, waiting for us.

  “Mario! What is it?” I asked alarmed, as
he ran towards us.

  “Peggy wants you,” he said tautly to Danielle. “Be a good girl and run in and see her.”

  “Has she made a cake?” Danielle asked as she began to run towards the archway. “ There wasn’t any yesterday, and.…”

  “Mario! What’s happened?”

  “Mr Van de Naude has had a heart attack. Mrs Van de Naude is leaving immediately. We were frightened you wouldn’t be back in time for her to say goodbye to. Danielle.”

  He was already striding beneath the colonnades. I hurried after him, the late afternoon sun flooding the villa a soft gold. Peggy came running from the direction of the kitchen, her plump face tense and strained.

  “Thank goodness you got back in time. How we would have explained to Danielle if she had come back and found her mummy gone I can’t imagine!”

  “Does she know what has happened?”

  “She knows her daddy isn’t very well.”

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Helena, an overnight bag clutched in her hand, said breathlessly: “ Can I have a few words with you, Lucy?”

  She was wearing a beige linen suit, her hair hastily scooped back into a french pleat, tendrils escaping wispily around her face. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and the usually laughing mouth was slack, making her look suddenly old.

  “I don’t know when I’ll be back. I can’t tell till I know how bad John is. I want you to take full responsibility for Danielle while I am away.” Her eyes held mine, the expression tigerish. “I can trust you, can’t I, Lucy?”

  “Yes, of course.…”

  Her naked intensity alarmed me. I took her hand. “I’ll look after Danielle. She’ll be perfectly safe till you get back. Please don’t worry.”

  Her eyes were suspiciously bright. “I’m sorry. I’m a fool. Of course you’ll look after her, and Ian will be here.” Her grip on my hand tightened. “If there should be any more accidents.…”

  “There won’t be,” I said firmly. “Please stop worrying. Everything will be all right.”

  “I hope so. Dear God, I hope so. I’ve left the telegram for Ian to see. Tell him I’ll telephone the minute I can.”

  “Doesn’t he know?”

  “No. He’s not expected back till tonight and I can’t get hold of him anywhere.…” There was a break in her voice. “ Danielle is in her room. I’ve tried to explain to her. Would you go to her?”