Craig was not much pleased at being described as her new lover. How many others had there been? He said sharply:
‘Get to the point. What was stolen?’
‘A diamond necklace. Worth maybe a million dollars.’
Craig gave a low whistle.
‘As well as a few thousand dollars in cash, which we’re not so interested in,’ Gomez said.
‘And you’re accusing Miss Lacoste of stealing all this?’
‘Sure, we are.’
‘She stole it from you?’
‘No, not us. From Señor Marquez, our employer.’
Craig spoke to Adelaide. ‘Is this true?’
She seemed inclined to deny it; but then she gave a shrug. ‘It was not stealing. It was owed to me.’
Villa gave a harsh laugh at that. ‘Whores expect high wages these days.’
The word struck Craig like a blow. ‘Whore!’
‘That surprises you?’ Gomez spoke sneeringly. ‘Didn’t you know? Didn’t she tell you? Well, maybe she wouldn’t.’
Craig looked at Adelaide, questioning.
‘It isn’t true,’ she said.
But he could see that she had flushed, as though the word had got through to her too.
‘So,’ Gomez said, ‘it is not true that you went to certain men when Señor Marquez, who you were living with, wanted to oblige his business friends with sexual favours. Are you telling us that?’
Craig saw that she had flushed more deeply. It was apparent that she was embarrassed by Gomez’s words. She said:
‘It was not quite like that. You are twisting things, making them sound bad. Anything I did I was forced to do.’
It was noticeable, Craig thought, that she was excusing herself rather than making an outright denial. It was a confession of a sort that what these men had said was true. And he heard it with shock and dismay. He began to understand now why she had been so reticent concerning that part of her life which had been spent in Argentina. There were dark secrets she had not wished to reveal.
Gomez said: ‘I see this has made you think, Mr Craig. And what you are thinking is that the lady is not quite what she would have had you believe. You took her at face value; which is a dangerous thing to do. So now you see why it would be putting the value of her services a bit high at a million bucks.’
Craig was silent. What could he say?
‘And there’s something else I guess she didn’t think to tell you,’ Gomez said. ‘She killed Señor Marquez.’
This statement brought an instant and vehement denial from Miss Lacoste. ‘It isn’t true. I didn’t kill him. I just knocked him out with a paperweight and tied him up and gagged him. But he wasn’t dead. He was alive when I left him. He’d come to and his eyes were open.’
‘That’s your story. So how did he get to be dead when we found him?’
‘I don’t believe it. He couldn’t have been.’
‘He sure was. But don’t let it bother you. We got rid of the body. And we spread the rumour he’d gone away for the sake of his health. Nobody’s looking for you. Bar us.’
Adelaide had to adjust her thinking after this. She had imagined that Gomez and Villa were still working for Ricardo; but if he was dead, the fact could only be that they were working for themselves. And then another thought came to her: it was they who had killed Ricardo to serve their own ends. If they took the necklace from her it would be theirs; it would probably never go back to Buenos Aires. Yes, that was the way of things; she had no doubt of it now.
‘You killed him,’ she said. ‘He was alive when you found him, but you killed him and got rid of the body for your own sake.’
‘Now why would we do that?’ Gomez asked.
‘So that you could get the necklace for yourselves, of course.’
‘You believe that?’
‘I’m damned sure of it.’
‘Well, think what you like, it makes no difference now.’
Craig was feeling pretty sick. What he had heard had dispelled any illusions he might have had regarding Adelaide Lacoste. She had apparently been acting as a high-class prostitute in Buenos Aires, whether she had been coerced into doing so or not. And then it appeared from her own admission that she had beaten this Señor Marquez, with whom she had been living, into unconsciousness with a paperweight, before tying him up and robbing him. Even if it was true, as she said, that Marquez had been alive when she left him, he might have died later from the effect of the blows to the head; though on the whole it seemed more likely that Gomez and Villa had finished him off. But either way, Miss Lacoste did not come out of the affair with any great credit. He was disenchanted with her, and was beginning to wish that he had never allowed himself to become involved with her activities.
‘And now,’ Gomez said, ‘don’t you think it’s about time you told us where the necklace is?’
She answered defiantly: ‘No. Why should I?’
‘I’ll show you one good reason why,’ Gomez said.
He reached into a pocket and pulled out a large clasp-knife. He opened the blade, which was about six inches long, curving to a point at the tip. It looked a very lethal weapon, and she eyed it with evident apprehension.
Gomez made a sign to Villa, who promptly seized the woman, pinning her arms behind her back with a grip of iron. She struggled to free herself, but it was no use; she had not the strength. Gomez advanced on her with the knife.
‘No!’ Craig shouted. ‘Don’t touch her. Let her go.’
He might as well have saved his breath. Neither man took the slightest notice of him. He might not have existed as far as they were concerned.
Gomez seized the woman’s hair with his left hand and forced her head back. He touched the underpart of her chin with the point of the knife. She gave a cry and a spot of blood appeared as he drew the blade away.
‘That,’ he said, ‘is just to show you how sharp this knife is. Later, if you are obstinate, I will slice your face. I will make a pattern of cuts on it, one after another; and if that is not enough I will move on to other parts of your body. You will live, but it will be in extreme pain, and you will be disfigured. Do you think it is worth while being obstinate at such a price?’
Craig broke in: ‘For God’s sake, Adelaide, tell them what they want to know.’
‘Now that,’ Gomez said, ‘is very good advice. You should listen to Mr Craig. He does not wish to see you cut to pieces.’
She gave in. The alternative was too horrific. She knew that Gomez would not have hesitated to carry out his threat.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I will tell you. It is in London.’
Gomez said: ‘You are not going to tell us it is in that house? We searched it, and the necklace was not there.’
‘Of course not. It’s in a safe-deposit box in a bank.’
The bulk of the money was in the bank too. She had opened an account and had put the necklace where it would be safe from theft.
Gomez told Villa to let her go, and he did so. She dabbed at her chin with a handkerchief and glared at the men, hating them.
‘So,’ Gomez said, ‘we shall have to go back to London and take you with us. And if this is a trick, so much the worse for you.’
‘It’s no trick. What would I gain by lying to you?’
‘A little time perhaps. But no; I think this is the truth.’
‘Do we go now?’ Villa asked.
Gomez shook his head. ‘No. There would be no point. The bank will not be open until morning; and maybe the weather will be better for driving.’
It was certainly not good at that time. The storm had come up and thunder was rattling the windows. Rain could be heard pattering on the roof. Very soon it might increase to a deluge.
Gomez closed the knife and put it away.
‘Now we all understand one another. Soon we shall reach a satisfactory conclusion of this business. That is the way things should be done.’
‘Are you going to set me free now?’ Craig asked.
&nb
sp; ‘Well, no,’ Gomez said. ‘I don’t think that would be wise. You might take it into your head to do something foolish; like trying to get away and call the police. We’d rather not have any complications while we’re waiting for morning.’
Craig was far from happy about that. It was very uncomfortable being tied to a chair; and his head was throbbing and his mouth was dry. He would have liked to lie down on a good soft bed, but he saw that he was not going to be granted that privilege.
The two other men sat down in armchairs and kept an eye on the woman, in case she tried to get away and make a run for it. They might have trussed her up too, but apparently they thought it was unnecessary. She would soon have been drenched to the skin if she had ventured outside, for the rain was really bucketing down now and the thunder was almost continuous.
After a time she said she had to go to the toilet. Gomez told Villa to go with her and see that she got up to no mischief; but Villa seemed disinclined to stir from his comfortable armchair.
‘If you want her watched, you go.’
Adelaide said tartly: ‘I don’t want anyone watching me when I drop my knickers. Though I suppose it might give you bastards a cheap thrill.’
Gomez laughed. ‘Ah, go and do your business. But don’t take long about it or we’ll come looking for you. Maybe I’ll do that anyway. You and me, we could amuse ourselves for a while on the bed. What you say?’
She said nothing; she just gave him a scathing look and went out of the room.
The bathroom was at the far end of a passageway, but she did not go as far as that; she had never intended to. Instead, she went into the room where the shotgun was kept in its steel cabinet. She was glad that Craig had left it unlocked. She took the gun out, and she did not even have to load it, because he had done that already. All she had to do was to release the safety-catch.
She stepped out into the passageway and walked back to the sitting-room and kicked the door open. Gomez and Villa were sitting on the opposite side of the room, and she put the gun to her shoulder and took aim in their direction.
They did not move.
She said: ‘I think it’s time you got to hell out of here.’
Gomez said: ‘Don’t be a fool. We all know you wouldn’t use the gun. Maybe it’s not even loaded. Put it down.’
‘Like hell!’ she said.
Gomez took the knife from his pocket and opened the blade. He stood up. Villa got up too.
‘Keep away from me,’ she said.
Gomez started to walk towards her. He had got to within two paces of her when she shot him in the chest. He was thrown back as if a gale of wind had struck him. A moment later he was on the floor and there was blood coming out of him and he was never going to get up.
Villa made a crouching rush at the woman and got under the barrel of the gun and hit her with his shoulder. She went over backwards, but she kept her grip on the gun. She brought the barrel down and he was on the end of it. She shot him under the jaw and blew off the top of his head.
She dropped the gun and got to her feet, and she was shuddering uncontrollably as if with an ague. She looked at the dead men and turned her eyes away. She had to hold on to a chair to avoid falling down again. She felt sick, and she had to get out of the room and run to the toilet and vomit. And all the while the storm was doing its worst, with thunder and lightning and torrents of rain hammering on the roof.
She was thinking: Oh, my God! What have I done? What have I done?
She had killed two men, and she had never meant it to happen like that. But when you had a gun in your hands it was as if the weapon took control, whatever you might have intended. It was as if the tragedy had become inevitable the moment she had removed it from the cabinet and released the safety-catch.
It needed an effort of will to return to the sitting-room. She had to steel herself to do it. The dead men were lying on the floor and Craig was still on the chair, unable to move. He looked at her with concern.
‘Are you okay?’
She answered faintly: ‘Yes.’
‘Get me out of this.’
The knife had rolled away from Gomez as he fell. She picked it up and cut the bonds holding Craig to the chair. Her hands were shaking as she did it, but she managed.
He stood up, stiff and sore; exercising his limbs to get them back into working order.
‘This is a mess,’ he said. ‘This is one hell of a mess.’
It was worse than anything he could have imagined. He would not have thought her capable of shooting the two men; but you never knew about people; you never knew.
She was gazing at him; looking to him for guidance. ‘What do we do now?’
To him the answer seemed obvious. ‘I shall have to go to the police.’
She seized his arm, as if to prevent him by force from doing so. ‘No, no, no! Not the police!’
Her reaction to the suggestion amazed him; but when he came to think about it he could understand why she would be reluctant to have the police brought in. She might be held for murder. Her only hope would be to plead self-defence, and that plea might not hold up. Besides which, there were other matters that might be looked into; matters which she would rather not have investigated. Taking all things into account, she was in a pretty sticky situation.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘do we have to tell the police? It’s going to make trouble for you too.’
He could see that she was right about that. He might be in the clear himself, but would the police see it that way? At best there would be no end of hassle; awkward questions to answer; publicity; pictures in the press; television cameras poking into your face; reporters probing every corner of your private life. It was going to be hell.
‘Couldn’t we get rid of the bodies?’ she suggested. ‘Nobody’s going to be looking for them.’
Craig thought about it. There was something in what she said. He didn’t give a damn for the dead men. They were villains and maybe deserved to be killed. And who would know that they had ever been down there? The private eye perhaps, the man named Sharpe. But if they never reappeared would he give a second thought to it? He had done his job and had no doubt been paid, and that would be all that concerned him.
Adelaide was looking anxiously at him. ‘It would be the best way, wouldn’t it?’
He gave a sigh. ‘Maybe it would at that.’
Chapter Nineteen – Home
The storm had passed and there was some faint moonlight showing through the drifting clouds when they carried Gomez’s body to the boathouse.
Gomez was wrapped in a rug and there was a concrete gnome lashed to his body with a length of wire. When he had been placed in the boat they returned to the bungalow for Villa, who also had a gnome attached to his body. The gnomes had stood at the foot of the steps to the verandah; now for the first time they were going to serve a useful purpose by weighting down the bodies of the two dead men to ensure that they did not rise again after they had been sunk in the deep water.
Craig and Adelaide spoke little as he rowed the boat to the centre of the broad. There he shipped the oars and the two of them tipped the bodies over the side. They sank immediately.
‘How deep is it here?’ Adelaide asked.
‘Deep enough,’ Craig said. ‘There’ll be mud at the bottom and they’ll sink into it. They’ll have the gnomes for company. The damned things were here when I came and I’m glad to be shot of them.’
‘And I’m glad to be rid of the men.’
It was a load off her mind. She had a sense of freedom; she was no longer under any threat from them. Or from Ricardo either, since she knew now that he was dead also. The necklace was hers and she could start life anew.
And there was Brian to share it all with. He had acted splendidly; she was so grateful for what he had done. And she loved him; she was sure of it. How could she not love him after the way he had helped her? From now on they would have a wonderful life together. Perhaps they would travel; go to France; call on Raoul . . .
‘There’s the car to get rid of,’ Craig said.
He had broken in on her thoughts. She failed to understand what he was talking about.
‘What car?’
‘The one they came in. It must be parked somewhere on the access road. Can’t leave it there. This is how we’ll do it: I’ll drive it to some place well away from here and dump it. You’ll follow in the Rover, and then we’ll both come back in it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘We can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t drive.’
It was something she had never learned to do. She had never owned a car and had never felt any urge to get behind the wheel. She had been content to let other people do the driving for her.
He could hardly believe it. He had taken it for granted that someone like her would be able to drive. But if she could not, he would just have to change the plan.
*
He left her in the bungalow. She would have plenty to do while he was gone, scrubbing away the blood. It would be impossible to remove it all from the floorboards, but a great deal of it had been soaked up by the rugs in which the bodies had been wrapped. And who would come looking for bloodstains anyway?
It was getting light when he found the car, halfway up the road through the wood. It was a green Vauxhall. It was not locked, and the key had been left in the ignition. Gomez and Villa had been very careless in that respect; but no doubt it had seemed to them improbable that anyone would steal the car; it was, after all, invisible from the other road.
Craig was wearing cotton gloves as a precaution against leaving fingerprints. He started the car, drove it on to the tarred road and was on his way. It looked like being a fine summer’s day after the storms of the night, and in different circumstances he might have enjoyed the drive. But he had too much on his mind for that. Had he acted stupidly in letting himself be persuaded by Adelaide not to go to the police? In the cold light of day he feared that he had. But it was too late to think of that now; he could not go back and dredge up the bodies; he had to go through with the whole wretched business to the end.
Lady From Argentina Page 16
