Eye for an Eye

by Bev Robitai

  He looked away, showing a stern and slightly sad profile as he gazed out across the lake. ‘Actually Robyn, I recently lost someone very dear to me, and I’m not quite ready for another intimate relationship just yet.’

  ‘Oh dear, how very sad. Are you able to talk about it?’

  He smiled bravely. ‘I should try, I suppose. Acceptance is the first stage of healing, they say.’ He lowered his eyes and began to talk towards the floor. ‘She was a wonderful woman, full of life and vitality. Everyone said we were made for each other, the perfect couple. Then one day she found a lump… and three months later she was gone. It meant the end of all our dreams together, everything we’d planned.’ His voice caught. ‘I still can’t believe it.’

  Robyn found her eyes filling with tears despite herself. His grief seemed so real.

  ‘You’d think that with all the progress in medicine today that the doctors here would have been able to help, wouldn’t you?’ she said. ‘I mean, North America has all the latest facilities for that kind of thing.’

  ‘It was too late by the time she discovered the lump - there was nothing they could do.’

  ‘How long ago was this?’

  ‘Just last June. That’s why the emotion is still a bit raw.’ He brushed at his eyes impatiently.

  Robyn’s unshed tears evaporated in seconds as she thought about his answer. She knew only too well that last June, Colwyn had been in New Zealand, posting out the letter that had sent her father to his death.

  At that point, she was close to killing him with her bare hands.

  ‘Life can be so unfair, can’t it,’ she choked.

  She got up abruptly and walked to the bathroom, needing to put some space between herself and Colwyn before she did something hasty.

  She fumbled the door shut and locked it, aware that her hands were trembling with suppressed rage.

  ‘If this carries on I’m going to need a bloody anger management course,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Christ! What a lying bastard - and I almost believed him.’

  She forced herself to cool down, splashing cold water on her face and hands until she felt calmer. It was time to get back into her character and play out the rest of the scene.

  Colwyn was still standing on the balcony, a brooding silhouette against the fading sunset. Good pose, thought Robyn cynically as she joined him. She put her hand on his arm.

  ‘Forgive me? I had no idea. You must have thought me an utter pest.’

  He turned and smiled into her eyes.

  ‘Not in the least, I assure you. I only hope that one day I will be able to offer love again as freely as you do.’

  ‘Oh you will, Colwyn, you’re full of it,’ she assured him. She stopped herself then, realising that alcohol was loosening her tongue. They stared out over the city for a few quiet moments. ‘You must have had much more ambition than I ever had, to achieve all this.’ She waved her hand at the luxurious surroundings and the twinkling lights below. ‘Tell me how you climbed the ladder to this kind of success.’

  ‘Oh, a lot of it’s luck, really,’ he said modestly. ‘Knowing the right people, being in the right place at the right time, that kind of thing.’

  ‘No, there’s more to it than that, otherwise everybody would be doing it. You’ve got something extra, haven’t you?’

  She gazed into his eyes, hoping her flattery would get him to open up. It would really help if her head would stop spinning.

  ‘Well I suppose you could say I’m a people person - I know how to make people feel good about investing their money, how they need to feel secure and to trust that I’ve got their best interests at heart.’

  ‘But do things ever go wrong? Like, do investments that you’ve suggested fail and the people lose their money?’

  She tried to keep her tone casual, as if the inquiry meant nothing and was simply polite conversation.

  ‘Oh of course, nobody is right all the time - it’s a percentages game in the end. If you’re right more often than the next guy, you get a reputation for being better, that’s all.’

  ‘So all investments are something of a risk, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘All the ones that offer high returns are. If you want your money to be absolutely safe, you put it in the bank and accept whatever tiny interest rate they’re prepared to pay you. If you want to make bigger gains, you have to be prepared to take a gamble because the money isn’t as secure as it would be in a bank.’

  She took a large swallow of port, feeling that she was stepping out onto a tightrope.

  ‘Have any of your clients ever lost their money, through your actions?’

  He looked at her steadily.

  ‘Sadly, yes - it does happen occasionally, despite the best of intentions and the most thorough research. Sometimes outside factors affect parts of the economy in sudden and unpredictable ways. If there’s a dramatic downturn in the one particular sector where you’ve put all your funds, and you can’t get them out in time, you can lose the whole lot very rapidly.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘I always try to advise my clients about that, but some are so optimistic, or so desperate, that they don’t believe it can happen to them.’

  He reached across the table and took her hands. She blinked, trying to assess his expression, but his eyes were unreadable.

  ‘I need you to believe in me, Robyn. Would you trust me?’

  ‘Are we talking money, or something else?’ She struggled to avoid slurring her words.

  ‘It’s all the same. Either you trust me or you don’t - whether it’s to handle your money or,’ he paused, and his voice hardened. ‘To tell me who you really are.’

  Her eyes shot wide open. ‘Wow, that’s a strange question. What’s making you ask that?’

  ‘I need an answer, Robyn. Who are you and what are you doing here? The way you’ve been asking so many questions, I’m wondering if you just might be a journalist. Is there anything you’d care to tell me?’

  Her brain was whirling horribly. What did she say now? If he knew her real identity, he might guess she was behind all the recent nasty accidents in his life. Who knew what retribution he might exact? Being a journalist would actually be better cover than the truth.

  ‘A journalist?’ She tried for a casual laugh. ‘I can neither confirm nor deny that, Colwyn. And I certainly wouldn’t reveal my sources.’

  She drained the rest of her port in one go. ‘If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I must just get a glass of water, OK?’

  Colwyn watched her walk slightly unsteadily towards the kitchen.

  He frowned as he recalled what Harry had told him that afternoon.

  Harry’s shirt had had large damp patches under the arms when he’d returned to Colwyn’s apartment.

  ‘Well? What have you got for me?’

  Harry shifted from foot to foot. ‘That girl…’

  ‘Yes? Come on!’

  ‘Didn’t you say her name was Robyn Heverill? Only, she had some airline tickets in her stuff and they was under a different name.’

  ‘Excellent! I knew she was playing some kind of game. So what’s the little bitch’s real name and where is she from?’

  ‘The ticket said “Robyn Taylor”, and it was issued in some place called New Zealand. Is that even a country?’

  Anger flickered across Colwyn’s face. ‘Never mind that. What else did you find?’

  She has a T-shirt with your picture on it.’ Harry’s fat face creased in a smile. ‘That’s kinda cute, isn’t it?’

  Colwyn frowned. ‘What’s the picture of, exactly? She’s never had the opportunity to take a photo of me. Where did she get it?’

  ‘It was a real nice shot of you by the boat. Shows the Angel Lady off pretty good.’

  ‘Oh really? OK, what else?’

  ‘She’s got a job, I think. There was payslips from Prince and Bond, that swanky photography studio over by the Parkway. I’ll go check it out later if you want.’

  ‘Photography? Interesting. Yes, all right. D
id you find out who else lives at the apartment?’

  Harry looked worried. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ He twisted a ring on his pudgy finger. ‘Ah, I think it might be the guy that was here last night.’

  ‘Which guy?’ Colwyn’s face darkened.

  ‘The phone guy. Maybe. There was some disguise-type stuff in a case. Some wigs and some glasses - one pair looked like the ones he was wearing.’

  ‘Christ! Can’t you be sure? This is vitally important! If those two are working together then I may be in serious trouble. Get over there and make sure for God’s sake. If it is the same guy, take him out of circulation for a while until I decide what to do. We may need to figure out a way we can get rid of both them that will look like an accident. For God’s sake move fast on this, Harry.’

  ‘I’m already gone, Mr. Symons.’

  Colwyn had smiled coldly. When it was a matter of brawn instead of brains, Harry could be almost reliable.

  Now, an hour after sunset, all the colour had faded from the lake. Lights twinkled below. Cars drew red and white lines through the night streets. Colwyn gazed at the night sky and planned his next move.

  Robyn came back to the balcony with her glass of water. Colwyn smiled at her warmly.

  ‘Robyn, don’t mind my little outburst just then – I’m a bit shy of reporters, that’s all. I didn’t mean to sound so abrupt with you and I’m really sorry. Tell you what, let’s go up to the roof where there’s a rather nice garden and recreation area. I’ll show you an even better view than this one.’

  ‘Out in the open? In the middle of the city? How super! Let’s go!’

  She lurched against him in the lift, staggered a bit as they climbed the stairs, and he took her arm when they were out on the roof itself. The view towards the lake was the same as from his apartment, but up here they could see 360 degrees around them with all the noises and breezes from the streets drifting up to meet them.

  ‘Wow, it’s magical!’ breathed Robyn. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. Listen to the roar of the city, isn’t that just so cool!’

  ‘You like that, do you? Come round here, Robyn, I’ll show you the hot tub.’

  He guided her to a screened-off space, unlocking the door to reveal a covered spa pool in the middle.

  ‘How’s that for a pool with a view? Why don’t you try it out, Robyn, the water’s just right. It’s like taking a hot bath out in the open air.’

  ‘Oh but we haven’t got our togs,’ she giggled. ‘Oops, I mean bathing suits. Is it all right to skinny-dip? Suppose we get caught?’

  ‘I tell you what, Robyn, if you dare to get in naked, I will too.’ Colwyn took the cover off the pool and challenged her with a look. He suspected she’d be easy enough to manipulate in her woozy state.

  ‘Damn, I could never resist a dare! OK, here goes! Last one in is a ratbag!’

  She peeled off her clothes and dropped them beside the tub, hurriedly sliding over the edge and into the water.

  He waited till she’d sat down, then caught her under the chin.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute, Robyn, I’ll just go down and get some towels. Don’t worry, nobody else has a key.’

  Ignoring her exclamation, he ducked back down the stairs to his apartment where he could rifle through her purse in well-lit comfort.

  He found her passport, opened it to her information page, and studied the name beneath her photo. Robyn Taylor, not Robyn Heverill. Born in Blenheim, passport issued in Christchurch. Profession: photographer. Yes! A bloody journalist just as he’d suspected. So Harry was right, and his own suspicions had been correct too. She had let slip far too many details that marked her as a New Zealander. Obviously another damned reporter trying to spread the word about his business activities.

  Harry would have to arrange one of his little accidents, along with whoever it was she was working with.

  His lips thinned in a cold smile. Or perhaps a perfect opportunity was unfolding right now. Robyn was up on the roof, with a lot of alcohol in her bloodstream - nobody would be surprised if she happened to stumble and fall from the building. Then her story would be killed with her, and life could go on as he’d planned. All he had to do was to give her a little nudge. Harry could take care of the rest.

  He replaced all her belongings exactly as he’d found them, grabbed a bottle of champagne from the fridge, a couple of towels, and hurried back up to the roof.

  ‘Where were you, you’ve been ages,’ complained Robyn drowsily. ‘This hot water has just about put me to sleep. Are you getting in or not?’

  He debated what would look most convincing for a police investigation, and decided he’d better appear to be a full participant. ‘Of course I am, Robyn. As if I’d miss an occasion like this!’

  He kicked off his shoes and socks, slipped out of his shirt and pants, and briefly admired the silvery play of the city lights on his naked body before easing himself into the water.

  ‘Aaahh, you can’t beat that, can you? It’s so relaxing. Can I offer you some champagne?’

  ‘Not if you want me to stay conscious. I’ve had a bit too much to drink already I think.’

  Colwyn smiled to himself. Everything was going his way, as usual.

  ‘Just a little drop won’t hurt - the hot water counteracts the effect of alcohol. You won’t notice a thing.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t know that. But then I’ve never been in a hot tub before, especially with a naked man.’

  ‘That’s funny, I’d have thought you’d have been in lots of them.’

  ‘Oh dear, you’ve got me. I’m not saying any more on the grounds that I may incrim..., incrin..., get myself in trouble.’

  He moved closer and put his arm round her wet shoulder.

  ‘Don’t worry Robyn, you can trust me, you know that. Nothing you can say would make me feel any differently about you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  After a while, she hiccuped gently. ‘Oops, pardies. Oh dear, I don’t think I’m talking very clearly. Look, Colwyn, I really should go home to bed and sleep it off. Is that all right?’

  ‘Yes of course it is. Let me give you a hand.’

  ‘Oh you’re so sweet.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome. Come on, let’s get you downstairs.’

  He wrapped her dripping body in a towel and helped her to step out of the tub.

  ‘Whoops! I almost slipped!’ She was giggling helplessly under the influence of the champagne on top of the wine she’d had earlier.

  He steered her towards the edge of the roof where a waist-high parapet skirted the building. She leaned heavily against his arm, blinking at the city lights. The wind lifted her hair and tugged at the towel around her body.

  ‘Look at that fabulous view, Robyn. Isn’t that amazing?’

  He braced himself to give her a strong shove.

  ‘Oh yes, and look, the guy in that office building is standing right by the window. I wonder if he’s going to jump!’ She waved vigorously. ‘Cooee! Don’t do it!’ She dissolved into laughter as the man waved back to her.

  Colwyn’s heart pounded. He’d been about to commit murder right in front of a witness! What was he thinking? No more spur-of-the-moment decisions. He’d drive Robyn to the cottage in the morning and Harry could take care of the rough stuff there, keeping it all at a safe distance. The solitude of the Kawartha Lakes would be a much better location for it than his own apartment building. The further away from his home turf the better. And if the fake phone guy really was part of the problem, he could be ditched there too.

  He carefully escorted Robyn back to his apartment.

  Despite her murmured protests, he settled her on the couch, and a sleeping pill dissolved in some hot chocolate soon had her snoring gently while he made an urgent phone call.

  ‘Harry? Things are moving faster than I thought. I’m going to take the girl up to the cottage tomorrow. Have you got that so-called phone guy she’s living with? Bring him along and you can deal w
ith the pair of them up there. She has no idea. It’ll be a nice surprise for her to spend some time with lover-boy for their last few moments.’ His mouth curved cruelly. ‘You can make it as slow as you like - I know how much you enjoy that. See you tomorrow.’

  CHAPTER 11

  Robyn woke next morning feeling dry-mouthed and thick-witted. It took her several minutes of staring to figure out that she was in Colwyn’s apartment, lying on his couch with a quilt covering… she risked a quick peek underneath… nothing but a damp towel! She racked her fuddled brain for clues as to what had happened the previous night but could only remember glimpses of bubbly wine and bubbling water. What the hell had she done? Surely she hadn’t allowed herself to get drunk? Had she given herself away?

  She levered herself upright with a groan and started searching for her clothes. After several circuits of the living room she found them neatly folded on the floor at the end of the couch, along with her purse.

  She could hear the sound of the shower running, so she took the opportunity to call Mike to see if he’d got the information he’d needed. The phone rang and rang until at last the answer-phone picked up. Robyn made a face and hung up.

  Before she had the chance to get all her clothes on, Colwyn came out of the shower looking immaculately well-groomed with every false hair in place. His stylish pants were well-pressed and his casual shirt emphasised the colour of his eyes, which narrowed at the sight of her hopping about tugging up her jeans. He smiled.

  ‘You’re awake then, Sleeping Beauty? How do you feel?’

  ‘Like I was run over by a truck while I was asleep,’ she complained. ‘Sorry if I passed out on you last night. Haven’t done that for years. I hope I didn’t disgrace myself?

  ‘No, not at all. Don’t worry about it, I’ve got the perfect cure for what ails you, Robyn. We’re going for a nice drive in the country to get lots of fresh air.’

  ‘We are?’

  ‘Yes, I thought I’d take you up to my cottage for the day. It’s right beside a small lake, in amongst the trees, you’ll love it. Lovely scenery, perfect peace and quiet, just what you need after a hard night out in the city. Get yourself dressed and we’ll have breakfast on the way.’