Diamond Fire

by Anne Mather

  Camilla felt a prickling of gooseflesh over her skin. She wasn’t cold; how could she be in this climate? But something had sent a sense of chill over her bones, and it wasn’t the temperature. For a moment she was quite cold, and then it dispersed again, and she breathed more easily. Someone must have walked over her grave, she thought impatiently, recalling what her godmother had used to say on occasions like that. Either that, or she had imagined the whole thing.

  She came to a standstill and tipped her head back on her shoulders, allowing the heat of the sun to beat against her closed eyelids. How could anybody be unhappy here? she wondered, opening her eyes again and blinking at the view. Yards and yards of unblemished sand stretched in either direction, and, behind her, tall palms raised their branches to the blue, blue sky. Apart from a few seabirds she had the beach to herself, and, while she knew that that was because this whole promontory belonged to Alessandro Conti, she still found it amazing.

  She dropped her boots on to the sand and walked down to the water’s edge. Although she knew the water was warm, its initial feel was cold, and she retreated as a creaming breaker splintered on the sand at her feet. But its attraction was irresistible, and she half wished she had put her swim-suit on under her shorts.

  And then she sighed, and went back to pick up her boots again. She wasn’t here to have fun, she reminded herself severely. She had come in answer to Virginia’s summons, and just because she wasn’t here—no, particularly because she wasn’t here—she ought to be considering what she could do to help, instead of paddling in the ocean.

  The trouble was, she didn’t know what she could do. Alessandro seemed to have everything in hand, and if he couldn’t find his wife how could she expect to do so? It wasn’t as if these were familiar surroundings for her. She hadn’t even been all that confident about hiring a car, whatever Alessandro had thought to the contrary. Only Virginia had suggested in her letter that Camilla might pretend to be touring the island, and call at the Conti estate as if by chance.

  That it hadn’t happened that way was probably just as well, in the circumstances. And, when Camilla had discovered she needed an international driving licence to hire a car, she hadn’t hesitated before hiring a taxi to bring her to Kumaru. She had been worried about her friend, and with good reason as it turned out.

  It seemed further, walking back to the house, than she had thought. Or perhaps it was just that she was still tired. And although there was a breeze it was still very hot, and she simply wasn’t used to the enervating effects of the heat. Unlike Alessandro, she thought, his lean dark features coming rather too easily to mind. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, and this morning he had looked every bit as cool and businesslike as any of the partners in her office back home. Alessandro…

  She cut her thoughts off there. She was getting far too accustomed to thinking of him by his first name. If she wasn’t careful she’d use it when she was speaking to him, and that would be really embarrassing. It would be different if Virginia were here and she had introduced them. As it was they had no point of contact, and calling him Alessandro seemed too familiar.

  Of course, it shouldn’t be, she argued as she climbed the steps to the terrace. The Americans she had met had been generally friendly, and not at all formal. But these were not usual circumstances, she admitted ruefully. And, until Virginia was found, she had the feeling she and Virginia’s husband would remain on opposite sides of an invisible fence.

  The stone terrace was hot beneath her feet, and she was bending to put her boots on again when she sensed other eyes upon her. She straightened and looked about her but the terrace was deserted, and she frowned. Then, instinctively, she tilted her head. A man was standing on the balcony above. She guessed access to the balcony must be gained through one of the living-rooms on the main floor, and she couldn’t help wondering how long he had been standing there, watching her.

  However, the man seemed not at all disconcerted by her observation of him. He still leaned on the balcony, arms spread, the sleeves of the pale blue shirt he was wearing rolled above his elbows. ‘Hi,’ he said, inclining his head in her direction. ‘Enjoy your walk?’

  The sun was bright in her eyes, and, unable to sustain his smiling gaze, Camilla averted her head. ‘Yes. Very much,’ she replied, limiting her curiosity to an occasional darting glance. Who was he? she wondered. And what was he doing here?

  ‘You must be…Camilla, right?’ he declared, folding his arms together and bending until he was resting his chin on his wrists. ‘Are you coming up?’

  In spite of her earlier ambivalence at the lack of informality, Camilla found she resented the familiar way he used her name. After all, he hadn’t even told her who he was, and the look she cast up at him was not encouraging.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she responded now, completing the fastening of her boots but making no rush to do so. Instead, she lingered for several minutes after she had finished, just staring at the view, before turning, reluctantly, in the direction of the house.

  He didn’t speak to her again, but he was waiting at the top of the half-spiral staircase when she reached the landing. ‘At last,’ he said without rancour, a half-smile playing about his lips. ‘Let’s go into the living-room. I’ve asked Mama Lu to bring us some coffee.’

  Camilla gave him another uncompromising stare, but she accompanied him across the hall and into the high-ceilinged room that gave on to the balcony she had seen from below. It was a room she hadn’t entered before, but that was hardly surprising, she acknowledged. Apart from the parlour, where she had met Alessandro the previous afternoon, and her own bedroom, of course, she was unfamiliar with the house, but she made no comment as she followed him inside.

  Her immediate impression was one of light, and comfort, and superb decoration. The patio doors, which opened on to the balcony, were closed now, allowing the air-conditioning to work unhindered, and Camilla appreciated the change of temperature. It had been so hot outside, but in here it was refreshingly cool.

  She stood on an enormous circular carpet that was patterned in muted jewel-like colours, looking at long, inviting sofas made of squashy cream leather. There were oases of smaller chairs and tables, with flowers set in vases, and exotic oriental bowls, and lots of pictures on walls that were otherwise quite plain. It was a lovely room, Camilla thought; a family room; and, as if to emphasise the point, an exquisite doll’s house stood in one corner, with a row of dolls propped on the floor beside it.

  It was the first indication she had seen of the child she had previously only heard of, and Camilla knew an instinctive feeling of remorse. She would have liked to have met Virginia’s daughter, she thought ruefully. She pondered who she was most like: her mother, or her father?

  ‘I guess you’re wondering who I am,’ the man said now, and although she was tempted to deny it Camilla looked at him and raised enquiring eyebrows. ‘The name’s Grant Blaisdell,’ he went on, exhibiting the kind of brash self-confidence that Camilla had always found most tedious. ‘Alex’s cousin.’

  ‘Al…Mr Conti’s cousin!’

  Heavens, she thought, she never would have guessed. Although both men were tall and broad-shouldered, there was no family resemblance that she could see. Grant Blaisdell was fair, whereas Alessandro was dark; his eyes were blue, whereas Alessandro’s were brown; and his softer, admittedly more handsome features lacked the harsh masculinity of his cousin’s.

  ‘Mr Conti!’ he was saying disparagingly now, not giving Camilla time to worry about the fact that she seemed to have studied Alessandro’s face rather too thoroughly, and she lifted her slim shoulders in a dismissing gesture. ‘Don’t tell me you call him Mr Conti! I thought Ginny was a friend of yours.’

  ‘Ginny? Oh, you mean Virginia.’ Camilla could be excessively pedantic when she chose. ‘Yes. We are friends. But Mr Conti and I had never met before yesterday.’

  ‘No kidding?’ Grant Blaisdell was unimpressed. ‘Well, why don’t we sit down and talk about it? That way you can t
ell me when you last saw…Virginia.’

  Camilla hesitated, but she was tired, and the sofas looked very appealing. However, she eschewed their comfort in favour of one of the smaller armchairs, thus preventing Grant Blaisdell from sitting too close beside her.

  She suspected he recognised the ploy, but he made no comment. Instead, he seated himself in another of the armchairs, and when Wong Lee arrived with the tray of coffee he was obliged to set it on the inlaid chest that stood near by.

  ‘Would you like me to pour the coffee, signora?’ he asked, looking at Camilla and not at his employer’s cousin, and she took a moment to appreciate the fact.

  ‘We can do it, Lee,’ Grant declared, dismissing him, but Wong Lee didn’t move.

  ‘I…yes…that’s all right, Mr Wong,’ Camilla agreed quickly. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Thank you, signora; signore.’

  The latter was said almost as an afterthought, but Grant didn’t look put out. ‘I guess Lee and I aren’t the best of friends,’ he remarked, waiting rather impatiently for Camilla to pour his coffee. Then, ‘Thanks. No one makes better coffee than Mama Lu. Don’t you think so?’

  Camilla shook her head, still absorbing the fact that Wong Lee had deferred to her and not Grant. ‘I don’t suppose I’m as familiar with it as you are,’ she murmured after a moment, and Grant gave a snort of agreement.

  ‘Oh, right,’ he said. ‘You’re English, aren’t you? I guess you prefer tea to coffee, yeah?’ He grimaced. ‘I don’t blame you. I’ve never met an English person who could make a half-decent cup of coffee anyway.’

  Camilla sat back in her chair, taking her cup of coffee with her, wondering how one man could be so insensitive without apparently being aware of it. How could he sit here, discussing the merits of tea or coffee, when his cousin’s wife was missing, and he hadn’t even said he was sorry?

  ‘So,’ he continued, evidently unable to sit silent for long, even though he was munching his way through the assortment of biscuits Mama Lu had added to the tray, ‘how well do you know Gi…Virginia?’

  Camilla pressed her mouth closed. ‘We went to school together.’

  ‘You did?’ He sounded surprised, and she wondered why. ‘I’d have said you were a good five years younger.’

  ‘Oh.’ Camilla should have recognised the line when she heard it, but her mind had been diverted by his question. ‘Well, we’re the same age,’ she replied evenly. ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

  ‘Hey, it’s no disappointment.’ Grant’s eyes were annoyingly intent. ‘Women are like wine, I always say: the older the year, the better the vintage.’

  Oh, really! Camilla didn’t say the words out loud, but she wanted to. She couldn’t believe she was sitting here, listening to such a load of drivel, and she wished he would get to the point of his visit—if he had one.

  ‘Mr Conti—that is, your cousin—is not here, you know,’ she volunteered steadily. ‘I believe he said he was going to his office. If you want to see him—’

  ‘Sure. I’ll see Alex later.’ Grant leaned across to pour himself more coffee, and she noticed, with distaste, the circle of sweat that dampened his shirt beneath his arm. She was surprised, too. It was still fairly early in the day, and if Grant had come here by car—which seemed reasonably certain—he was bound to have been sitting in an air-conditioned atmosphere for most of the morning. And yet…

  She shrugged. It was of no interest to her anyway. Grant Blaisdell was of no interest to her. She knew plenty of men like him in London, and she had never been attracted by their unsubtle initiatives.

  ‘Alex and I work together,’ Grant was explaining now. ‘His father and my mother are brother and sister, so we both have a stake in the Conti Corporation’s future.’

  ‘I see.’

  Camilla wasn’t interested in his relationship to his cousin, but she had to admit that anything that concerned Alessandro—Alex…she tried the name out on her tongue, and found she liked it very much—anything concerning Alex did intrigue her.

  ‘I run the place when he’s away,’ Grant added expansively. ‘I guess you could say I’m his vice-president.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Yes, I think that describes my position very well.’ His face sobered. ‘What do you think?’

  Camilla shook her head. ‘I’m sure you know your own worth best, Mr Blaisdell,’ she responded coolly. ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t comment.’

  ‘Mr Blaisdell!’ Happily, her use of his surname diverted him from any closer examination of her words. ‘The name’s Grant, Camilla. I don’t believe in wasting time with formalities. Any friend of Ginny’s is a friend of mine. Didn’t she ever mention me to you?’

  ‘No.’ Camilla finished her coffee and bent forward to replace the cup on the tray. ‘It’s…some years since we were last in touch.’

  ‘But she wrote to you, didn’t she?’ Grant had leaned forward too, and when Camilla would have drawn back his fingers curled about her forearm. ‘When I phoned Alex last night he said she’d invited you here.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Camilla answered him, but her eyes were dark with anger at his presumption, and, as if realising he was being too intense, he released her again. He spread both hands then, palms outward, towards her, and gave a rueful little grimace as if begging her indulgence.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But we’re all pretty desperate to know where she is,’ he excused himself. ‘And…Maria, of course. It’s a bloody situation, and we’re all worried sick!’

  ‘Mmm.’ Camilla made the required sound of endorsement, but she couldn’t help thinking that Grant Blaisdell’s sympathy had come a little late. She had the feeling that he was unlikely to worry about anything that didn’t affect him directly, and if she was being uncharitable she couldn’t help it. She didn’t like him. She didn’t know why, but she just had a gut feeling about him. It was probably due to the fact that she resented anyone treating her as a sexual target first, and a woman second.

  ‘Well…’ Evidently he had decided it was time he was leaving, and he pressed down on the arms of his chair and got to his feet. ‘I’d like nothing better than to spend the rest of the morning here with you, but I guess I ought to at least show my face downtown. It’s been a real pleasure meeting you, Camilla, and if you’re spending any time on the island perhaps we can get together again real soon.’

  Camilla looked up at him, her face composed into a polite mask, but she didn’t say anything to encourage his attentions. ‘Goodbye, Mr Blaisdell,’ she said, making no move to get out of her chair, and, with a final considering appraisal, he nodded his head and left her.

  After he had gone, Camilla waited until she heard the unmistakable sound of a car’s engine before getting out of her seat. Then, when she did get up, she stood for a moment with her arms crossed over her midriff, rubbing her elbows with the palms of her hands. It was a defensive gesture, and she didn’t really know why she should feel that way; but she did. She was glad he had gone, and she hoped she would not have to see him again before she left the island.

  And yet he had said he was a friend of Virginia’s, or words to that effect anyway. Perhaps she should have asked him where he thought her friend had gone. He was probably party to any information Alex had. Alex. She tried his name again, and decided it was a lot easier to handle than Alessandro. Whatever, he was bound to have kept his own family in touch with any developments. And, while she suspected she knew as much as he did about Virginia’s current whereabouts, Grant might have been willing to speculate about her reasons for running away.

  Mama Lu’s appearance, ostensibly to collect the tray, interrupted this train of thought, and, feeling obliged to say something, Camilla thanked her for the coffee.

  ‘Mr Grant’s gone, then, has he?’ the housekeeper responded, bending to pick up the tray, but Camilla guessed Mama Lu knew exactly when he had left the house.

  However, ‘Yes,’ she answered, pushing her hands into the pockets of her shorts. ‘About five minutes ago.’
/>   ‘Mmm.’ The housekeeper straightened, the tray in her hands. ‘I thought so.’

  Camilla’s tongue came to moisten her lips. ‘You—er—I suppose you know the family very well,’ she ventured, and Mama Lu nodded, her dark head bobbing affirmatively.

  ‘As well as I know my own,’ she agreed, evidently more prepared to be friendly today. ‘I’ve been around since before Vito and Sophia got married.’

  ‘Vito…and Sophia?’ Camilla frowned. ‘Would that be—Mr Conti’s father and mother?’

  ‘His father and his aunt,’ corrected Mama Lu patiently. ‘Miss Sophia is Mr Grant’s mother.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Camilla acknowledged her mistake. ‘So…Mr Blaisdell is Mr Conti’s cousin.’

  ‘Did you doubt it?’ The housekeeper arched dark brows, and Camilla was hard-pressed not to abandon this conversation here and now. But desperation drove her on.

  ‘He just seems…so different from…from his cousin,’ she murmured lamely, and Mama Lu shrugged.

  ‘Isn’t that the truth?’ She lifted her fleshy shoulders. ‘I guess he’s more like his daddy than Miss Sophia thought.’

  ‘His daddy?’ Camilla knew she was being unbearably nosy, but she couldn’t stop now. ‘Do—er—do his parents live on Oahu, too?’

  ‘His mommy does,’ replied Mama Lu, adjusting the cups on the tray. ‘No one knows exactly where his daddy is.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, I see.’

  ‘Cal Blaisdell left his wife and son when Grant was little more than a baby,’ the housekeeper explained indifferently. ‘Only married her ‘cause he thought he’d inherit her daddy’s business. But Alex’s granddaddy died, leaving all his stock to Vito. Kinda sudden it was, and I guess he didn’t have the time to include Cal in his will.’