‘I told you, he has no morals. It’s like Kathleen said, he believes he’s untouchable.’
‘I didn’t like him when I first met him. After Kathleen’s story, I can hardly bear to look at him. He disgusts me.’
‘Getting ideas for your article?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted candidly. ‘This is not exactly typical.’
‘You can say that again,’ Connor concurred. ‘The entire Dulac family are conspicuous by their arrogance. Most French Mauritians are warmhearted, genuinely friendly people.’
‘I’m glad you mentioned it,’ Holly said in an undertone, moving to join a nearby group. ‘I hope I can find some.’
As Sunday lunch parties went, this turned out to be a good one. Connor was right, most of the guests were friendly and interesting people. When it came out that Holly was putting together an article about Mauritius for an Australian publication, most people she spoke to appeared concerned that a French-only perspective would be misleading. When she explained that this was not the intention, they were keen to answer any questions or provide quotable anecdotes about life on the island. Several times Holly picked up on innuendo that the Dulac family were not particularly popular.
She was standing momentarily alone, when a young man, aged no more than twenty, introduced himself. ‘Welcome to the illustrious palace,’ were his opening words. ‘I’m Guy Dulac. Been watching you. You interest me.’
‘Holly Jones.’ He was immensely tall, not far short of two metres, and standing as close as he was Holly was forced to tilt her head back to look at him. ‘Are you Raoul’s son?’
‘Indeed.’ He smiled and his teeth were very white against the deeply tanned skin. ‘Who and what are you, Holly Jones?’
Unless Holly missed her guess, he was flirting with her. ‘I’m an Australian journalist doing a feature on Mauritius. Raoul thought I’d find a Franco-Mauritian angle interesting.’
‘And do you?’
‘Very. It’s an important part of something really quite complex.’
He turned his head to greet someone and Holly noticed he wore his blond hair long, like his father, and tied back with a strip of leather. When he looked back he made no attempt to hide the fact that he found her attractive. Holly might have been flattered if he hadn’t been so disturbingly intense. His blue eyes roved over her face and body and the smile on his lips was intimate and self-assured. His words could have been taken one of two ways. ‘This is your lucky day. I’m French-Mauritian and you are welcome to me. I can satisfy your every need.’
A younger girl might have been bowled over by his attention. He was certainly good-looking enough. ‘That’s very kind of you, but –’
‘But nothing.’ He bowed deeply, sweeping one arm across the space between them in cavalier fashion. ‘I insist you let me help. You will have my undivided attention.’ Straightening, he added, ‘All day and all night if necessary.’
Holly began to feel uncomfortable. He was charming, she’d give him that, but she had never felt at ease with men who said one thing with their mouth while their eyes advertised something quite different. Guy Dulac was making it very plain that he fancied her. ‘I’ll let you know,’ she said lamely.
He would not be fobbed off. ‘What are you doing later?’
‘Having dinner with a friend.’ The lie came easily enough.
‘Can’t you get out of it?’ Guy looked so disappointed she almost felt sorry for him.
‘Not possible, I’m afraid.’
‘Tomorrow night?’
‘I’ll be in Rodrigues.’
‘Tonight then. Call me after your dinner.’
Holly was starting to feel irritated. ‘It will probably be a late night.’
Guy sighed theatrically. ‘He’s a very lucky man.’
‘Actually,’ Holly said, smiling sweetly, ‘it’s a her. I’m gay.’ She wandered off, leaving Guy Dulac staring after her and fresh out of words.
Twenty minutes later, Connor caught up with her as she stood chatting to a neighbour from an adjoining estate. When they were alone he bent his head and asked quietly, ‘I’ve just been talking to Guy Dulac. Did you really tell him you were gay?’
‘Yes.’
His eyebrows were raised, dimples in place, and she didn’t know whether he was trying not to laugh or cover up surprise. All he said, however, was, ‘Charming!’ before moving off to circulate.
Holly had been aware that Madame Liang Song kept staring at her, so she crossed the room to find out why. ‘We meet again.’
Liang Song nodded briefly. ‘So we do.’
‘Forgive me for saying so, but at our interview the other day I rather got the impression that the Chinese community, especially someone of your background, didn’t mix socially with the French.’
‘I never said that.’
‘No, but the implication was clearly there. It’s something I’ve included in the article and I’d hate to be wrong.’ Holly looked guilelessly at the Chinese woman.
‘I’m a business acquaintance. There’s a difference.’
‘That explains it then,’ Holly said softly.
Liang Song changed the subject. ‘You seem to be keeping quite regular company with Mr Maguire. I gather he’s changed his mind about an interview.’
‘Connor Maguire is news. He accepts that.’
A smile, or was it a sneer, crossed Madame Liang’s face. ‘He won’t find any treasure.’
‘Perhaps, but he sure as hell is going to try. Anyway, it’s for a good cause.’
Raoul joined them. ‘I see you two have met. Good.’ He looked across at his wife. ‘Solange, chéri,’ he called, loudly enough for most of the room to hear. ‘Do come and talk to us.’
Solange Dulac, with apprehension written all over her face, obeyed. She was charming, gracious and as drunk as a lord. Holly found herself in complete sympathy with the woman. Not that she allowed it to show. Madame Dulac was the kind of person who would despise sympathy when sober. Inebriated, she’d more than likely make a scene. Anne-Marie joined the group.
Great, Holly thought. Now all we need is the amorous son.
As if on cue, Guy Dulac appeared at her side.
From the conversation that followed it was obvious that these five people had very little time for each other. Holly endured a few minutes of thinly disguised hostility before excusing herself with polite words and moving away.
The buffet lunch was late but well worth the delay. White-coated servants glided in with silver platters loaded with hot and cold food. Holly remembered Kathleen saying she had waited at table in the old house. Somehow, she couldn’t picture the serene little nun in a place like this. Guests piled their plates high and found somewhere to sit. There was nothing formal at this gathering. Holly perched on a sofa and was joined by a portly gentleman who introduced himself as Francois Prost. He turned out to be the acting police surgeon, out from France to do a locum and due to fly home in about a month. Holly wanted to find out about his work but Anne-Marie arrived and sat on his other side. The Frenchman’s attention wavered, switched allegiance, then galloped away, leaving Holly to silently wish him the best of luck. Whether it was Anne-Marie’s beauty or obvious wealth that had attracted Prost’s interest she didn’t know, but if the woman’s expression and lacklustre responses were anything to go by, Francois Prost’s time and energy were being seriously wasted.
Deciding to skip coffee, Holly went in search of a bathroom. There was one off the entrance hall but it was occupied and two people were waiting. Coming back into the crowded reception room, she saw Solange Dulac sitting alone and asked if there was another that she might use. Solange pointed upwards. ‘Upshtairs, shecond door on the left.’ Holly climbed the curved staircase to the first floor, located the door and opened it. She was in a bedroom. It was large, light and airy with French doors opening on to a balcony. No personal belongings. The room appeared unoccupied. An equally uninhabited bathroom opened off it. Relief! She shut and locked the door behin
d her.
Holly had only seen such luxuriously appointed bathrooms in the pages of magazines. Toilet and bidet, spa bath, shower raised on a dais, twin vanity basins, mirrors everywhere, floor to ceiling marble, gold taps, exquisitely monogrammed towels – it was almost decadent. She loved it! About to flush the toilet and leave, Holly heard conversation coming from the bedroom – male voices. She hesitated, recognising Raoul’s. Making a noise to announce her presence was the logical thing to do, but instinct told her that whatever had brought these two upstairs for a private chat might be interesting. So she did what any self-respecting journalist would – eavesdropped. It took only seconds to discover that the other man was Justin Parker.
‘You weren’t there long enough to know that,’ Raoul barked, sounding angry. ‘You knew I wanted you to stay there.’
‘I’m telling you, Rodrigues is not the place. Nothing matches.’
‘So why is Maguire going there tomorrow? He must have a good reason. And he’s taking that reporter girl.’
Raoul was getting closer to the locked bathroom. He went past the door.
‘You’ll have to go back. You were a fool to leave. I told you to wait for Maguire.’
‘I thought I would be of more use back here.’ Justin sounded sulky.
‘Well don’t think.’ The voice kept moving. Obviously Raoul was pacing. ‘Just do as you are told. And don’t come to the house again. What if Maguire, or the girl, had seen you?’
‘What if they did? You might have invited me.’
‘I’d prefer it if Maguire doesn’t connect the two of us.’
Justin’s voice sounded puzzled. ‘Look, I appreciate you don’t want him horning in on the treasure but your need for secrecy over our association is bordering on paranoia. What’s the harm in anyone finding out we know each other?’
‘Maguire is tough,’ Raoul snapped. ‘The less he knows the better.’
‘What’s he going to do?’ Justin mocked. ‘Kill us?’
‘Don’t be stupid. And don’t underestimate the man. I’ve done business with him. He’s good. Do it my way, Justin, and keep our association to yourself.’
The voice was still moving.
Holly tensed. Please don’t let either of them decide to use the bathroom.
Justin spoke again. ‘I’ll get the morning plane. Maguire and Holly will be on it but she thinks I’m looking for dodo eggs.’
‘No. Better they don’t know you’re there. We might need that element of surprise. I’ve got some business to attend to on Rodrigues. We’ll take the boat. Get yourself up to Cap Malheureux. Wait for me on the jetty. I’ll be there as soon as I can decently leave here.’
‘How long will the trip take?’
‘About twenty-four hours.’
‘Then we won’t be there ahead of Maguire.’
Raoul’s frustration was obvious. ‘It’s the best we can do. If the treasure is on Rodrigues he won’t waste time, he’ll go straight for it. Dammit, Justin! Why didn’t you stay there?’
Justin’s voice turned nasty. ‘I’ve already told you, there is nowhere on Rodrigues that matches the map.’
‘Then there must be more.’ Raoul sounded puzzled. ‘I know the man. He’s got information that we don’t. Maguire plays the odds. Doesn’t mind risk but he’s methodical, leaves little to chance.’ Holly heard him snapping his fingers as he spoke. ‘Maguire knows something else. There was rumour of a journal. He might have got his hands on it, or some other piece of evidence. Maybe he’s found a copy of the map.’ Raoul sighed heavily. ‘No matter. You just have to find him and observe, understand?’
‘What if he finds it?’
‘Let me know. Do not approach him.’
‘But half of it’s mine.’ Justin was sulky again. He didn’t like being told what to do.
‘Half of nothing, my friend, is nothing. And that’s precisely what we’ll end up with if you’re not careful. You’d do well to remember that. Now, unless there’s anything else, I’ll see you tonight. I must return to my guests.’
Holly heard the two men leave and blew out a shaky breath. Waiting a good five minutes, she flushed the toilet, quickly crossed the bedroom, cautiously checked the passage beyond and set off in search of Connor. She did not notice Raoul narrow his eyes when he saw her coming back down the stairs.
Connor looked relieved to see her. ‘I was just thinking of a search party. Where did you get to?’
‘Let’s take a walk in the gardens.’
‘Nothing I’d like better.’ His voice was dry.
She waited until they were well away from the house before relating all that had happened. Connor didn’t seem unduly worried by confirmation of Justin’s association with Raoul. He was more concerned that Holly might have been discovered eavesdropping on their conversation. ‘Did they mention anything other than William’s treasure?’
‘No.’ Holly leaned towards him and lowered her voice. ‘You don’t think that Justin is involved with that D-word you hate me to mention?’
‘It crossed my mind but no, I don’t.’ His eyes warned her to say no more.
Holly ignored him. ‘Then what’s going on?’
‘Two things. They’re not connected.’
‘But, if . . .’
Connor turned her to face him, his hands holding her arms. ‘Woman, don’t you ever let up?’
Holly shrugged. ‘There’s a story on the wind. It’s like –’
‘The scent of blood to a hungry lion,’ he finished for her, letting his hands drop. ‘Are you about finished here? I’ve had the social scene in chunks.’
‘But we’re supposed to be the Dulacs’ special guests. It’s too soon for us to leave.’
‘I don’t know how to break this to you,’ Connor told her heavily, ‘but you and I could spontaneously combust in front of Solange and Raoul and neither of them would give a monkey’s.’
Holly knew he was right.
They made their farewells using the early flight to Rodrigues as an excuse. Raoul managed to appear disappointed that they were leaving so soon, Solange didn’t even know, having already retired. Anne-Marie stood in for her. ‘So nice to meet you,’ she murmured, offering one perfumed cheek and then the other. Guy Dulac watched them leave with brooding eyes but made no attempt to come and say goodbye.
‘Whew!’ Connor breathed, as they drove away. ‘I just can’t believe that she’s Kathleen’s daughter.’
‘What is it you Catholics say?’ Holly asked. ‘Give a priest a child for the first five years and he’ll be a Catholic for the rest of his life.’
‘I’m not a Catholic.’
‘With a nun in the family and a name like Maguire! Who lapsed?’
‘God knows.’
‘He’s probably the only one who does.’
Connor ignored the comment. ‘There has to be something inherited from her mother.’
‘If there is, it’s well buried. Or, more likely, it died a long time ago.’
*
At the hotel, Holly was surprised when Connor parked the car and came with her. She expected him to simply drop her off. ‘Going somewhere?’
‘Your room.’
‘Any particular reason?’ Damn! Her heart started hammering.
‘We haven’t discussed Rodrigues.’
‘That reminds me. Give me the ticket details and I’ll see that Out of Focus repays you. Ditto the accommodation.’
‘I’m not worried about that. We need a plan.’
‘A few days ago you said that there’s one place on Rodrigues that sort of matches the map. Surely that’s it? Our plan, I mean.’
Connor didn’t answer.
There were no messages at reception when she picked up her key.
‘Help yourself to a drink.’
‘No thanks.’
Holly shrugged out of her jacket, threw it over a chair and kicked off her shoes. Connor had crossed to the sofa. ‘Come and sit down.’
She joined him.
‘I haven�
�t been entirely honest with you.’
Holly grinned. ‘Surprise, surprise! I have to tell you, Maguire, that I find your lack of interest in finding buried treasure outstanding in its intensity. You barely avoid yawning whenever the subject comes up. It’s a cover for something else. That D-word keeps popping into my head.’
‘And you said it was too risky to do a drug story without back-up security.’
‘True.’
‘So? What keeps you here? If you don’t believe I’m looking for treasure, why stay?’
Holly chewed her bottom lip while she thought about it. ‘For some reason better known to yourself, and my father no doubt, you have to appear as if you’re up to another newsworthy charity stunt. And, in your own inimitable style, you are doing just enough to give it credibility. The uncharacteristic lack of publicity is to make sure nobody looks too hard and discovers another agenda altogether. With your luck, you’ll probably find the bloody treasure, but whether you do or don’t doesn’t actually matter. The mere attempt will make fascinating reading. You are the news, Maguire, not the treasure. The Australian public love you to bits. Anything you do is okay by them. That’s the bottom line and the reason I’m still here.’
Connor made no comment. She was stating fact, nothing more. Instead, he picked up on his concerns for her safety. ‘Then you’ll drop all this hidden agenda stuff?’
She couldn’t fathom him. ‘Why should I? You’re the one who wanted to avoid the subject.’
‘I do. It’s just that . . .’ he looked away, his voice soft. ‘It’s just that I’m a bit concerned you are getting mixed up in something about which you know nothing and which could prove dangerous to you, or me, or even both of us. That’s why.’
‘I’m extremely touched.’
His voice hardened. ‘This is not a game, Holly.’
‘What are you really, Maguire?’ When he didn’t answer, she went on. ‘Because you’re sure as hell not the adventurous playboy you pretend.’
He turned back and grabbed both her arms. His eyes glittered with emotion – frustration, anger? Holly stared back at him, unflinching. She saw his look, almost of despair, as one hand reached for her face and his finger gently traced a line around her jaw. With a shuddering breath he pulled her to him, his lips seeking hers. There was passion and a kind of desperation in the kiss, as though afraid of whatever lay ahead. Through the thin material of his shirt she could feel him shaking. ‘Holly!’ His voice was hoarse. ‘You are the most exasperating woman I’ve ever known.’
The Forgotten Sea Page 22
