‘Not much to tell. You probably think I’m a spoiled brat. A trustfund kid, just floating through life without a purpose.’
‘I’m sure you have countless admirers.’
‘Not really.’ She sighed. ‘You could say I’ve not had much luck with men. I did have one proper boyfriend, but he suffered a serious breakdown. It wasn’t my fault, but … People need to be strong. What counts in life is knowing what you want and being determined to go out and get it.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Their eyes met across the table, and Jeremy realised that he did know what he wanted.
When he felt Georgia stir beside him the next morning, Jeremy’s limbs and muscles were aching in a thoroughly satisfactory way. Her hair was tousled and she looked more like a teenager than ever. He dropped a light kiss on her cheek, but when she tried to drag him back under the duvet he raised a hand in protest.
‘Whoa! I don’t have your stamina.’
She laughed, a musical sound. ‘I don’t believe you, not after last night. That was amazing.’
‘Really?’
‘Trust me.’
The sun was already blazing as, over an al fresco breakfast, they mapped out a plan to cram the day with sight-seeing. Georgia said she wanted to experience as much of the Emirates as possible, and when she asked if Jeremy needed to put in an appearance at the conference, he shook his head.
‘It was only ever an excuse,’ he said. ‘At heart, I’m a shameless tourist. Having heard so much about this part of the world, I wanted to see if it lived up to the hype.’
Her eyes shone. ‘And does it?’
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll say.’
She offered to organise their day out; it only took her five minutes with an app on her smartphone to make all the arrangements. He offered to pay for everything but she wouldn’t hear of it. Last night’s meal had cost him a fortune, she said, and in any case, she could afford it. It didn’t seem right to argue. To insist on footing the bill would make him seem old-fashioned as well as old.
She hired the services of a softly spoken Indian driver called Sunil for the rest of the holiday. The first stop on their itinerary was the Burj Khalifa, where the lift sped them to the viewing deck at the top. Next came a visit to the shiny new opera house, designed to resemble a traditional dhow. They snacked in the Dubai Mall and investigated the sea creatures in the aquarium, before sailing along the Dubai Canal in the afternoon. As Georgia took pictures of the flamingos on the bank Jeremy put his arm around her waist, the first time he’d really touched her since they’d climbed out of bed.
‘You’re captivating,’ he said.
‘You’re not in such bad shape yourself,’ she replied. ‘For an old guy.’
The age difference had become a joke between them. He’d managed to relax and forget all about Elaine. Anyway, Georgia was much better company. Last night, she’d confided that she was bored with men her own age. Did she see him as a father figure? Her compliments about his virility were so ardent that he didn’t really care. Thank God he’d kept going to the gym, even though the subscription cost a fortune.
It was too hot to walk anywhere during the day, but after Sunil dropped them off in the evening they wandered hand-in-hand through the spice and perfume souks, breathing in the exotic fragrances. The headiness of the rich aromas made him wonder, just for a moment, if he was dreaming. But there was nothing imaginary about the way she dug her fingernails into his arm before dragging him off to the gold souk. When she lingered in front of one of the shops, he said he wanted to buy her something, a souvenir of a marvellous day.
‘You’re sweet,’ she said, ‘but I’m the girl who has everything, remember. Keep your wallet in your pocket.’
‘But…’
‘OK, you can buy me dinner again. Deal?’
‘Deal.’
Her parents had been a money-no-object couple, and Georgia had grown up wanting for nothing. Except, he speculated, what she wanted most – love. She wasn’t exactly clingy, but even the most adoring middle-aged women of his acquaintance hadn’t hung quite so much on his every word.
They caught an abra and crossed the creek to take a look at the Bastakia Quarter before finding a place to have dinner by the waterside that was, to his relief, much cheaper than the revolving restaurant.
‘History fascinates me,’ she said, gazing out towards the abra station.
‘They don’t have too much of it in the Emirates,’ Jeremy said. ‘I admire their ambition. The largest this, the tallest that. A canal built in record time, the biggest shopping mall on the planet. It’s not just about vanity projects or making a statement to the rest of the world. They’re planning for life when the oil runs out.’
‘You don’t think all this new architecture is a bit soulless?’
‘Things change,’ he said. ‘It’s natural. Life keeps moving forwards; you can’t live in the old days. Besides, what was here in the old days, before the oil? A few tents and the occasional palm tree?’
She pursed her lips. ‘But there’s history here too.’
‘Not as much as in Lancaster,’ he laughed. ‘Not to worry. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here in blingy Dubai, with you.’
The next day, Sunil drove them to Sharjah, though Jeremy wasn’t quite clear where Dubai ended and Sharjah began. They braved the heat for a short stroll along the promenade, before taking an air-conditioned break to look around an exhibition of Islamic art. After exploring the fort of Al Hisn, they emerged into the open again, pausing by a wooden post that rose up in the middle of the courtyard.
Georgia studied an explanatory plaque. ‘I told you there is history in the Emirates.’
‘Go on, then.’ Jeremy didn’t mind humouring her.
‘They call this the Repentance Wood,’ she said. ‘Before the oil, pearl fishing was the main source of wealth in these parts. The punishment for misbehaving divers was to be tied to their ship’s mast. One day, a blind man was cooking fish in a house made of palm fronds and he set his home alight. The wind spread the flames as far as the creek, and they destroyed a pearling ship at anchor. The mast was salvaged and placed here, in front of the old fort. Criminals were tied to it so people could see the consequences of flouting the law.’
‘It’s a sort of history, I suppose,’ Jeremy said. ‘But the fort was rebuilt a few years ago, and the post is a replica. That’s exactly my point. This place isn’t about yesterday, it’s about tomorrow.’
Georgia shrugged but didn’t argue. He liked that about her. She might be young but she was prepared to listen and learn. That night in bed, he began to teach her about compliance. She was very different from Valerie, but both of them had a submissive streak, and that pleased him.
‘Our last full day together,’ he said as the waiter poured their coffee at breakfast next morning. Today the sun was forecast to be fiercer than ever.
She looked at him. ‘Is it?’
‘Well…’ he speared a chunk of melon with his fork, ‘…you’re going back to Canada tomorrow, and I’m on a flight to Heathrow.’
‘Flights can be rearranged.’
He hesitated, not quite sure if he could believe his luck. ‘Are you saying you’d like to come to England with me?’
‘Would you like that?’
‘I’d love it,’ he said fervently.
She smiled. ‘Of course, you have a company to run.’
‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ he said. ‘We’ve never made a profit since the business started up. Our books are lovingly produced, they’re beautiful to have and to hold, but frankly, there’s not much demand for them. If I’m honest, the business leaches money. Any true, hard-nosed entrepreneur would have closed the firm down years ago. Or alternatively, gone bankrupt.’
Her eyes shone. ‘But it gives you pleasure. It’s a vocation.’
‘Precisely. You’ve already gathered that I love being in charge.’
She had this gift of empathy, h
e told himself. It came through in every conversation. It was as if she understood him intimately.
She hesitated. ‘I could help.’
‘You’re interested in publishing?’
‘You could show me the ropes. And I could put some money in, if things are really that tight.’
‘I couldn’t possibly let you…’
‘Why not? Didn’t your wife give you a helping hand? Surely she was willing to invest. You said she came from a wealthy family.’
‘It wasn’t quite the same,’ he said. ‘Valerie and I were married.’
She gazed into his eyes, and he realised that for once in his life he found himself blushing like a schoolboy.
Sunil took them out as far as Abu Dhabi, where they visited the Sheikh Zayed Mosque and the Emirates Palace. On the way back, Georgia told Jeremy she’d planned a special treat for their last night in Dubai: a traditional Arabian feast in the desert.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I know you don’t like to be bossed around.’
In the art gallery, he’d let slip that Valerie had accused him of being a bit of a control freak. This didn’t seem to bother Georgia, but he didn’t want her to think he was a bully. Someone of her age and background was bound to be independently minded. It would take time for her to grow accustomed to his ways. Though last night she’d once again proved to be a very apt pupil.
At the hotel, they had a couple of cocktails in the bar before separating to pack in readiness for the flight the next morning. Despite the short notice, Georgia had managed to find a seat in first class. Money talked, he thought; it spoke a special and rather wonderful language all its own.
At six-thirty, he found her waiting for him in the lobby. Tonight she was wearing a white dress, simply cut and yet, he felt sure, the work of some leading designer. He felt a proprietorial thrill as she took his arm. He liked women to look feminine and didn’t care for it when they wore trousers. Georgia seemed to be of the same mind. He liked that.
The sun was setting, but as they stepped out through the automatic sliding doors and onto the pavement beside the taxi rank, a blast of heat hit them.
‘Tomorrow is supposed to be the hottest May day since records began,’ Georgia said.
‘Pity we’ll miss it.’
She smiled at him, and tugged at his hand.
The traffic out of the city was always heavy, but once the skyscrapers were behind them, Sunil put his foot down, and the Lexus LX raced through the sandy wilderness.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked.
‘The Arabs call the area Rub al Khali. Miles from what you’d call civilisation. I didn’t want to sign up for one of those large-scale feasts they put on for tourists. Our last evening together in the Emirates has to be unforgettable.’
‘It will be,’ he muttered.
The cocktails were having an effect, she rested her head against his shoulder and they dozed. When she shook him awake it was pitch black outside the car and he had no idea how long he’d been asleep. Screwing up his eyes, he saw torches illuminating a small tent.
‘We’ve arrived.’ She was barely able to keep the excitement out of her voice as she fumbled with her seatbelt.
‘Where is this?’
‘Rub al Khali. Come on.’
She led him into the tent. It was still very warm. Two beautifully decorated satin cushions lay on the ground for them to sit on. As they made themselves comfortable they were joined by a tall man wearing a long beard and traditional Arab dress. He carried a tray with two cups full to the brim.
With a bow, he said softly, ‘A welcoming drink.’
‘Gahwa for you and karak chai for me,’ Georgia murmured. She drank tea but not coffee, whereas Jeremy was a caffeine addict. Raising the cup of tea to her lips, she inhaled the fragrance before tasting. ‘Mmmm, gorgeous.’
Jeremy took a gulp of coffee. ‘This will wake me up after my snooze.’
‘Shukran lak,’ Georgia said by way of thanks. The man bowed again, and left the tent.
For a minute or two neither of them spoke. The air was hot and dry inside the tent, and Jeremy couldn’t stop yawning. Once he’d drained his cup, he said, ‘You’ve organised a wonderful menu, I’ll bet.’
‘I try to think of everything.’ She smiled. ‘I wanted to ask about the publishing business. I gather a cash injection is required. How much, would you say?’
He blinked. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Say…’
‘Yes, Jeremy?’
He groped for words. ‘Well, perhaps … four hundred thousand.’
‘Isn’t that quite a lot of money for a company that only publishes half a dozen books a year?’
He brushed this aside with a wave of his hand. ‘Production costs are high, cash flow’s not what I’d wish. Anyway, we turn out more than six books. Lots more.’
‘Not according to your website,’ she said. ‘It’s not terribly informative. In fact, it doesn’t seem to have been updated since last summer.’
He strove for jocularity. ‘You’ve been checking up on me?’ His little laugh seemed false and nervous in the deadly quiet of the desert night.
‘As a matter of fact I have. Your creditors are becoming impatient all over again. You kept your head above water with the money you inherited from Valerie, but now things seem to be going from bad to worse.’
‘What … what makes you…?’
She leaned towards him. ‘How are you feeling?’
He mopped his brow. ‘Not too good, actually.’
She clapped her hands and the man in Arab dress stepped back into the tent. He must have been waiting just outside.
‘What’s going on?’ Jeremy asked faintly.
‘I didn’t introduce you, did I?’ Georgia said. ‘Darling, you’d better take off the beard. It doesn’t really suit you.’
The man peeled away the beard, revealing a clean-shaven jaw. He glared down at Jeremy.
‘Jeremy, this is Darren Critchley.’
Jeremy tried to say something but wasn’t able to form the words. Critchley?
‘Yes, that’s right. He’s my partner. And also the neurotic brother of the woman you abused for years prior to murdering her.’
When Jeremy came round he was aware of tight cords cutting into the flesh of his wrist and ankles. He was tied up and couldn’t move. Blinking, he saw the moon and stars. There was no sign of the tent, or of Sunil’s land cruiser. He seemed to be in a hollow in between sand dunes. On the horizon he thought he could see the outline of mountains in the moonlight, but it was impossible to be sure.
Slowly he took in what had happened. That bitch and her lover had drugged him. When he was groggy and unable to defend himself, they’d bound him to a thick wooden post. The post, about six feet high, had been driven firmly into the dusty ground.
His throat was parched, and several minutes passed before he managed to shout her name.
‘Georgia!’
He kept shouting but his voice was weak, and nothing happened until eventually he became aware of two shapes detaching themselves from the shadows. A torch beam blinded him.
‘So you’ve woken up?’ Georgia hissed. ‘Took you long enough.’
‘Where am I?’ His voice sounded scratchy, like an old and infirm man’s.
‘I told you: Rub al Khali. It’s a vast desert of sand, covering a huge area. I didn’t mention before, it’s also known as the Empty Quarter. Look around when the sun rises and you’ll see why.’
‘You betrayed me.’
‘As you betrayed my sister.’ Opening his eyes a fraction, Jeremy saw that Critchley had discarded the Arab dress. ‘All she was looking for was tenderness and affection. The sort of woman you specialise in preying on: rich and vulnerable. Elaine Klein fitted the bill too, but we made sure she got wise to you.’
‘Just as well,’ Georgia said. ‘When you and she got together, I was afraid it might be harder to insinuate myself into your life than I’d expected.’
‘You plann
ed … everything?’
‘Like you planned Valerie’s destruction,’ Critchley said. ‘Our father was a tyrant, and she thought you offered a chance of escape. You seduced her, and when you had her under your thumb, you persuaded that poor, infatuated woman to hand over a king’s ransom to keep you in the lap of luxury. You isolated her from her friends and family. She and I were always very close, but she never even got in touch when I had my breakdown. You forbade her to contact me. All you wanted was to control her and every aspect of her life.’
‘Even that wasn’t enough,’ Georgia said. ‘You got bored with her and were desperate to get your hands on her capital. The easy solution was to kill her. So you used your expertise to poison her and pass it off as death by natural causes.’
‘No…’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘There’s a template for murder in one of the books you published eighteen months ago. Perfect Poisons, remember? The coroner was satisfied about the supposed heart attack, but we reckon you killed her with digitalis.’
‘You’ll never prove…’
‘And we’ll never need to,’ she said. ‘At long last we have you where we want you.’
‘What are you going to do?’ It was barely a whisper.
‘In five minutes Sunil will drive us away,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow the temperature will peak at one hundred. This place is far more remote than the lonely country house where you made Valerie’s life a living hell. Not a soul, not even the hardiest nomad, will pass by. If the sun doesn’t do its work first, the jackals and hyenas will enjoy themselves. The scorpions, too.’
‘You can’t,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll give you whatever you want.’
‘We want justice.’
‘But … have mercy.’
‘What mercy did you show Valerie?’ Georgia asked. ‘You took her life, and, indirectly, came close to taking David’s.’
‘You can’t … You won’t get away with it.’
‘David and I booked into the hotel as a married couple. Didn’t you notice how careful I was not to invite you to my room? In his company, I was a well-upholstered redhead. Her wig is quite striking, and so is all the padding in her bra. If anyone tries to trace your movements and studies the hotel CCTV, they won’t make the connection between a busty older woman with flaming hair and your skinny blonde girlfriend. They might suspect the girlfriend of having tipped off some local bandits, who then stole your wallet and abandoned you to die here, but they’ll never find her. Because Georgia from Seattle doesn’t exist.’
Mystery Tour Page 16
