by Susan Lewis
‘I wouldn’t mind the sound recordist turning off the cicadas,’ Louisa remarked. ‘But anyway, as intangible and weird as it all seems, it is real and we are going to have to decide where we go from here.’
‘Well, if we’re going to try and get to the bottom of it then we’re going to have to reassess our tactics. It’s my guess that we’re asking the wrong questions, or maybe we’re asking the wrong people, probably both. The trouble is though, who else is there to ask? Danny’s not interested enough in anything or anyone beyond herself to want to get to the bottom of it and everyone else, it seems to me, is a part of the cover-up.’
‘She can’t be that wrapped up in herself not to be just a little bit curious,’ Louisa said. ‘And she did go snooping around the bathhouse.’
‘So what are you saying, Detective Kramer, that we should include her in the investigation?’
Louisa laughed. ‘I don’t know. Right at this moment I’m still too furious with her to want to include her in anything.’
‘I don’t blame you. And since we’re back on that subject I’m going to tell you what I really think. I think it’s you who’s the challenge here, not Jake. It’s you she wants to beat, not him. Don’t ask me why I think that, I just do. You’re probably right when you say that she can’t stand it because he wants you and not her, but I reckon it’s the fact that it’s you that’s really bugging her. She’s always seen herself as your great protector, you know, picking up the poor little matchgirl and making the world all bright and wonderful for her. She saved you from Bill and gave you Simon …’
‘Yes, what was that about Simon? I never knew she was involved with him.’
‘Yes, she was. Only superficially, well you know Danny, nothing ever goes much deeper than the surface. But yes, she was sleeping with him.’
‘Then why didn’t he ever tell me?’
‘Probably because it was no big deal to him either. Or because he assumed you knew and never thought it was important enough to bring up.’
‘And now she’s convinced herself that she got me to the top by agreeing to do Private Essays when you and I both know that the budgets were already in place and the time slots had been allocated long before she was cast, and she was second choice.’
‘Third,’ Sarah corrected. ‘But for God’s sake don’t ever tell her that. And besides, it’s all water under the bridge now, because she did a fantastic job as we both well know. But I reckon this is where all the resentment comes from, in that she sees herself as your Svengali and you’re showing your appreciation by snatching, as she so eloquently puts it, the screw of the century, right from under her nose.’
‘Well at least she’s slept with him, because even he admits to that. And how, I ask myself, does she know I haven’t if he didn’t tell her himself?’
‘Lucky guess?’
‘Or he really is making sport of me and going back to the Valhalla to entertain his crew with tales of my puppy dog eyes and pathetic determination to get him into bed.’
‘Does he strike you as that type?’ Sarah said sceptically. ‘Because he certainly doesn’t me. Even if he does turn out to be married, a blackmailer, a charlatan, a liar, a God only knows what else, I still don’t see him as someone who’d entertain his crew like that.’
‘Then why would Danny say it?’
‘Why does Danny say anything?’ Sarah responded unhelpfully, taking a mouthful of wine. ‘Anyway, if I were in your shoes I’d be inclined to give Jake the benefit of the doubt. You can always reassess the situation later if we find out he really is lying, but in the meantime there’s no logical reason in this world why he would be wasting his time trying to mess up your head and get you panting for his body just to entertain his bloody crew, for God’s sake!’
‘What do you think of what Danny said about his relationship with Consuela?’
‘Mmm, that’s a tricky one. There’s obviously a lot more to Consuela than meets the eye. In fact, she’s so whiter than white with all this charity stuff and grieving widow bit that it wouldn’t surprise me at all to discover that she’s the villain of the piece here and that Jake and Morandi and, for all we know, Erik, are the ones being blackmailed rather than doing the blackmailing.’
Louisa gave a wry grin.
‘Yes, I thought you’d like that scenario,’ Sarah laughed. ‘So you see, you’re not the only one with sixpenny novel fantasies.’
‘But even if it is they who are being blackmailed it still means they have something to hide,’ Louisa pointed out.
‘Mmm, yes well, sadly I didn’t major in sleuthing so that’s the best I can come up with.’
‘Which, if I’m reading you correctly, is giving us the green light to get ourselves involved with two men who are highly likely heading straight for jail and for all we know could end up taking us with them.’
‘I’m glad you can see the positive side of this,’ Sarah remarked cheerfully. ‘For a minute there it was looking all gloom and doom.’
‘Anyway,’ Louisa laughed, ‘let’s not forget that Aphrodite actually accused Morandi of being a blackmailer.’
‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten about her,’ Sarah said, suddenly depressed again. ‘And I have to confess that the thought of Morandi’s fluctuating personality is making me dizzier than his God-awful paintings. Did I tell you about them?’
‘No.’
‘They’re absolutely, categorically, without any exaggeration whatsoever, terrible. So, where do we go from here? You make the decision, because since I’ve never yet managed to win a game of Cluedo … What’s the matter? Who are you looking at?’ she said, craning her neck to look in the same direction as Louisa.
‘What I’m looking at,’ Louisa said, ‘is an extremely expensive, wonderfully chic, silver Jaguar pulling into Jean-Claude’s drive.’
‘Erik?’
‘Who else? And what was that you were saying just now about having no one else to ask?’
‘Of course,’ Sarah cried. ‘Jean-Claude.’
‘And where are we going for dinner tonight?’
‘Jean-Claude’s. Brilliant. Except, we can’t ask him anything while Erik’s there, can we?’
‘No, but you could always ask Erik where he was this afternoon when he was supposed to be meeting you.’
‘I stand about as much chance of getting a straight answer to that as Morandi does of selling his paintings,’ Sarah responded.
‘But you can always try.’
As it turned out Erik had already left by the time Sarah and Louisa had showered and changed and got themselves across the road for dinner in Jean-Claude’s wonderful garden overlooking the staggered, red roof tops of Valanjou – or Happy Valley, as Sarah had now taken to calling it. Danny had gone with Erik, having once again apologized to Louisa for all she’d said that afternoon. She’d promised to make it up to her by taking her out later in the week for a slap-up meal somewhere. Since Louisa couldn’t afford the really expensive restaurants, she’d said, it would be nice for her to have a treat. That had annoyed Louisa every bit as much as what Jean-Claude was telling them now was making her uncomfortable.
‘… and so I told Erik,’ he said, his gentle brown eyes as grave and as meaningful as the throaty timbre of his voice, ‘that I don’t want to become involved with what ’e is doing. ’e came ’ere tonight to ask me to keep money for ’im, and I said I would not unless ’e told me what it was for or where it was from. ’e wouldn’t do that, so I told ’im to take it away again and go to a bank.’
‘How much money was it?’ Sarah asked, her eyes flicking towards Didier and back again.
‘I don’t know, but it was a lot. I saw it. It wasn’t francs, but in any currency the caseful ’e ’ad was a lot of money.’
‘You didn’t see what the currency was though?’
‘No. And I also told ’im that I thought ’e should not be involving either of you in whatever is going on with ’im and Jake Mallory.’
‘What did he say?’ Louisa asked, the succule
nt gambas before her for the moment forgotten.
‘That Jake was a rule for himself and that ’e couldn’t tell Jake what to do. ’e also said, by the way, that ’e was going to ask Danny to marry ’im.’
‘Who? Erik or Jake?’ Louisa breathed, her face starting to drain.
‘Erik is going to ask ’er. ’e says ’e loves ’er, but Erik ’e is a fool for a pretty face. Always ’e ’as been that way.’
To Louisa and Sarah’s frustration Jean-Claude very skilfully managed to steer the conversation in another direction after that, and before they could get around to their dessert they had to move inside, for the storm that had been threatening to break all day suddenly boomed its arrival with a great, deafening crash of thunder and a downpour that was so fierce and so dense it wasn’t possible to see even as far as the end of the garden.
It was just as they were leaving that the topic was touched upon again as Jean-Claude hugged Louisa warmly and told her that if ever she or Sarah needed a friend in this country that wasn’t their own, then he would be there for them and would try to help them in any way he could. And when Louisa tried to take the edge from his unsettling concern by laughing and asking why on earth he should think they would need help, he told her that he knew she was seeing Jake, that he’d seen the Mercedes several times during the past week.
‘I know I’ve had too much to drink,’ Louisa said, taking a towel from Sarah to dry herself off after their quick sprint through the rain, ‘because right now all I want to do is call the number Jake gave me and talk to him.’
‘Then do it.’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he told me not to unless it was an emergency. And besides, what am I going to say? Jake, I think Danny’s got some weird obsession with me and that’s why she’s telling people she’s sleeping with you. Oh yes, and by the way, my neighbour is making me paranoid by telling me that he’ll be there to help me in any way he can because he knows I’m seeing you.’
‘You could always try asking him why Erik turned up at Jean-Claude’s with a case full of dosh this afternoon,’ Sarah suggested helpfully.
‘Very funny.’
‘OK, why not try asking him how, what did Danny say her name was? Martina? How Martina is these days? Or maybe more to the point, where Martina is.’
Louisa jumped as a sudden bolt of thunder crashed overhead. ‘I wonder what all that money was for, or where it was from?’ she said, pensively. ‘He won’t have got it from a bank, will he, not on a Saturday. Although some are open Saturday mornings, aren’t they?’
‘Then surely that would have been the safest place to leave it,’ Sarah responded. ‘And do you know what I’m thinking now? I’m thinking about Morandi driving into Consuela’s this afternoon as Danny was leaving.’
Louisa’s eyes opened wide. ‘You mean you think he was going to pick it up?’
‘It makes sense to me, doesn’t it to you?’
Louisa nodded.
‘When are you seeing Jake again?’
‘I don’t know. He said he’d call today, but he hasn’t.’
‘Mmm, well I reckon it’s time we went into action and stopped shilly-shallying around trying to guess at what’s going on and letting them off the hook every time we ask a question they don’t want to answer. So, the very next time we see either of them I think we should confront them with what we’ve heard and see what they have to say about it. And if we don’t get any straight answers, if they start messing us around with stuff like it’s not safe for us to know and all that garbage, then we’ve got to tell them that in that case we don’t think it’s safe for us to carry on seeing them.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ Louisa said. ‘You’re definitely right, because I don’t know what the statistics are for blackmail leading to murder, but my guess is they’re pretty high. And I just can’t forget what Jake said about some people being likely to lose their lives before all this was over.’
Both of them suddenly swung round as another deafening crash of thunder blasted overhead at the same time as flashing forks of lightning daggered over the pool.
Sarah turned to Louisa who was staring blindly out of the window and looking as shaken by the storm as Sarah felt. But what Louisa couldn’t hear that Sarah could, was the echo of a crazed and portentous organ booming its baleful din from the portals of a neo-Romanesque cathedral in Monaco.
As Louisa’s eyes came slowly round to Sarah’s they both started to laugh, each knowing what the other was thinking, that this really was like a film set, a film set with everything, right down to the immaculate timing of the special effects.
16
OVER THE NEXT few days, following the storm, the temperature dropped to a more bearable eighty-five degrees, before shooting back into the mid-nineties and seeming hotter and more stifling than ever. During the relatively cooler spell, though the atmosphere between Louisa and Danny was still at times fractious, the animosity was on the whole kept to a minimum. But now that the mercury was rising towards an all-time high it was not only shortening tempers, it was making the smugness of Danny’s pleasure in Erik’s recent proposal seem all the more galling. There was such a de-energizing sluggishness to the humidity that Danny’s excitement was as exhausting to watch as it was to contend with. She hadn’t given Erik an answer yet, and secretly she was intrigued to know what Jake’s reaction was going to be, but she didn’t mention that to either Sarah or Louisa. She simply swanned around the house and garden, naked but for her G-string, admiring herself in passing mirrors or lovingly massaging herself with suntan oil while flicking through magazines, filing her nails or talking to Erik on the phone.
Occasionally Danny took herself off on long, solitary drives never saying where she was going or when she would be back and, as difficult as the situation was between them, seeing her go off alone touched Louisa’s heart with sadness and regret that the rift between them was widening and there was nothing, it seemed, that either of them could do about it. Were it not for the capricious delight Danny appeared to take in never saying where she was going Louisa might have tried a bit harder to repair things, but as it was Jake stood between them like an immovable mountain and any sympathy Louisa might have felt for Danny’s isolation was swallowed by the sickening suspicion that it was him Danny was going to see when she disappeared for hours on end. It clearly wasn’t Erik, because he often rang when she was out, and the fact that Jake had neither called nor sent Marianne to pick her up as he had on a few occasions the previous week only served to convince Louisa further that now Danny was back his attention was elsewhere.
Sarah hadn’t heard from Morandi either, though she’d tried several times to call him both at the office and at home, but all she got was the answer phone. The frustration they were both feeling very nearly erupted in an argument between them when, one afternoon while Danny was out, Sarah angrily referred to Jake as the bastard who was fucking up all their lives. Louisa, without thinking, leapt to his defence, but then realizing that there really was nothing she could say to dispute that she reluctantly backed down. Sarah apologized and went off to her darkroom while Louisa settled down beside the pool to try for the umpteenth time to tie a subplot to the main plot without its seeming too contrived.
The trouble was, she realized irritably as the sun beat relentlessly down on her and she let her pen and pad slide on to the pale stone tiles, so much of her own life seemed so implausible that she was losing her grasp on reality.
A few minutes later she heard the sound of a car pull into the drive and felt herself tense. Quickly she turned her face towards the woods at the end of the garden deciding to feign sleep rather than have to put up with Danny’s exultant strut towards her and half-apologetic, half-triumphant manner as she tried to goad Louisa into asking where she’d been. Louisa had only fallen for it once and wasn’t going to make the same mistake again because she’d come very close to slapping Danny’s face when, having given Danny the satisfaction of asking, Danny ha
d merely drawled, ‘Really, you wouldn’t want to know.’
‘Louisa?’
Louisa’s head spun round, her heart lurching at the sound of Marianne’s Australian accent.
‘Jake would like to see you,’ Marianne said.
Louisa would have dearly loved to be able to say no, wanted desperately to tell Marianne to tell him she was sorry, but she really didn’t have the time, but as she sat up, removing her sunglasses and covering her breasts with a towel she heard herself say, ‘Where is he?’
‘Not far from here,’ Marianne answered, showing her perfect white teeth in a smile that seemed even more dazzling than the sun.
Louisa stood up. She could wish that Jake had chosen someone a little less glamorous as his runaround since beside Marianne’s oozing voluptuousness she felt gawky and skinny. ‘I’d better get some clothes,’ she said.
Ten minutes later she was beside Marianne in Marianne’s white convertible Golf, speeding through the winding forest roads towards Opio where the occasional glimpses of the alps shimmering in the heat haze were quite breathtakingly lovely. As usual Marianne was asking about Louisa’s new series, telling her how much she’d loved Private Essays when it went out in Australia and generally enthusing about a talent she longed to have herself.
Despite feeling ordinary and rather overshadowed by Marianne’s shining blonde beauty, Louisa liked her, and generally enjoyed the brief conversations they had when on their way to meet Jake. Today, however, Louisa was in such a turmoil of nerves she was barely listening to what Marianne was saying.
It wasn’t until they took a sharp turn from the main road and started to climb the hairpin bends to the top of a hill that Louisa realized where they were heading. A ripple of unease coasted over her heart, for this road led to only one place, the village that, despite its quaintness and hilltop splendour, she and Sarah had found so strange and so stolidly unwelcoming when they’d first arrived on the Côte d’Azur. Why, of all places, she wondered, had Jake chosen to meet her here, in what surely must be the only village in the whole of France that had no café, no restaurant, no amenity or attraction to entice the outsider?
