Rachel Lindsay - Brazillian Affair

by Rachel Lindsay

  She stared at him dumbly and Maya stepped forward.

  "Poor girl, no wonder you're upset. Come with me. You need a hot bath and a good night's sleep!" She put out her hand, but Philippa hit it away, sending Maya reeling back against Lucas. He caught her to steady her, and the sight of his hands on the slender body acted on Philippa like a goad.

  "You bitch! How can you pretend not to know? Haven't you any feeling - any heart!"

  "Be quiet, Philippa." It was Lucas, his voice urgent.

  "Don't tell me to be quiet! I've been quiet long enough." She turned on Maya again. "You killed him, didn't you? Even if you didn't fire at the tyres, you killed him!"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Maya said.

  "Stop lying! You and Diegos killed Roland as surely as if you'd stabbed him."

  "Who's Diegos?" Lucas asked.

  The question took Philippa by surprise and she paused, wondering exactly what Maya had told him.

  "What did you tell Lucas ?" she burst out.

  With a sigh, Maya reached for a cigarette. "I knew you'd ask that. I'm sorry, Miss Smith, I didn't want to give you away, but when it looked as though Roily was going to get the contract I had to tell Lucas the truth."

  "What truth?"

  Maya's eyes widened. "That you'd been engaged to him, of course. And why he'd faked his death and come to Rio."

  "And what reason did you give Lucas for knowing that?"

  "The true one." A cloud of smoke hid the beautiful face for an instant, and as it cleared Maya could be seen looking at Lucas, her expression complacent. "Luckily he understands why I liked Roily so much." She looked at Philippa again. "I pretended to you that I didn't know him because I didn't want you to be hurt. I hoped you'd return to England before you found out what sort of person he really was. Unfortunately I didn't know he was going to ask you to spy on Lucas for him. If I'd had any idea of it, I'd have warned Lucas from the beginning."

  "So that's your story." Philippa turned to Lucas. "It's not true. Not one single word."

  "You mean you weren't engaged to Masterson?"

  "No, that part's true. We were going to be married when he - when we thought he'd been drowned." Haltingly, refusing to look at him, she recounted everything that had happened since she had arrived in Brazil and met Roland.

  "When I saw him at Rodriguez' party I wanted to tell you the truth, but he begged me not to. I agreed because I - I was scared you'd tell Rodriguez and that the English newspapers would find out."

  "So even if it meant my losing the contract you were prepared to go on protecting him?"

  "I didn't see that the contract had anything to do with it. I thought it was going to be a straight fight with the best bid winning. That's why I was so pleased when we went up to the site and you found a way of bringing the costs down."

  "And made quite sure that Masterson knew what those figures were!" he taunted.

  "No," she said loudly, "I didn't."

  "But you gave him my other costings. You won't deny that?"

  "Don't be hard on her, Lucas," Maya said gently. "She loved Roland. You mustn't blame her for -"

  "Will you be quiet!" Philippa shouted.

  "I'm only trying to help you."

  Maya advanced on her and as the smiling face came closer, Philippa was gripped by terror. She remembered her hours in the locked room, the nightmare ride to expected death and the feel of the sharp edge of the steel rail pressing into her legs as she had waited for the final push.

  "Keep away from me!" she screamed. "Lucas has got to believe me!"

  Without pausing for breath, regardless of whether or not she was coherent, she stumbled through the story, telling of her discovery of the photograph and the letter, her belief that Maya had taken the first costings and her visit to the beautiful house overlooking the beach to tell her so. Only when she came to her return to the hotel and the news of Mrs. Marsh's death did her voice break and for a moment she paused, fighting back the tears.

  "It was like a reprieve to me," she whispered. "It's an awful thing to say, but it's true. Knowing she was dead meant I needn't protect Roland any longer." Her voice grew stronger. "Stupidly I rang and told him so, and he must have called Diegos right away."

  Lucas went to interrupt, but she ignored him and went on speaking, knowing that if she stopped long enough to think, she would burst into tears.

  "I've no proof to give you that I was kidnapped," she finished, "and now Roland's dead I've no proof that Maya was involved either. But I give you my word - for what you think it's worth - that everything I've told you is true."

  Raising her head, she looked full into Lucas's face. It was pale and composed, giving no sign of whether or not he believed her, and she turned and found herself staring at Maya. If she admired her for nothing else, Philippa had to admire her for the composure she had maintained while listening to a re-enactment of all she had done.

  "You've not as naive as I thought," Maya said quietly. "Now that Rolly's dead I can't ask him for proof either! All I can hope is that Lucas will see your story for the disgusting lie that it is!" In one graceful movement she was by his side. "I won't lower myself by attempting to deny any of this. I'm going home, darling. If you feel like coming to see me later, call me. If not I'll see you tomorrow." She paused at the door and spoke to Philippa. "If I didn't dislike you quite so much, I'd feel sorry for you."

  Lucas, as though awaking from a dream, stood up.

  "I'll see you down to your car."

  "There's no need, darling. I think it would be better if you called a doctor to see Miss Smith."

  "I'll see you to the car first," he insisted, and walked out, closing the door.

  Philippa leaned against the arm of her chair, knowing her ace had been trumped. Fool that she had been to think she could win against such a subtle and cunning mind. No wonder Maya thought her naive.

  Painfully she went into her bedroom, staring around her as if she had never seen it before. She walked over to the dressing-table and picked up the photograph of her father taken in the garden of their home. Never had she longed for the comfort of his arms as she did now. "Daddy," she cried, sinking to her knees, and started to cry.

  A long while later, dry-eyed and numb, she took off her torn clothes and went into the bathroom. Only as she soaked in hot water did a semblance of feeling return, and with it, fresh tears. Her life was over. The sooner she accepted it the better.

  Wrapped in a dressing-gown she returned to her room and lay on the bed, too tired to pack, too tired to phone the airport to see if there was a plane leaving for London tomorrow. Not that it mattered if there wasn't; she would take a plane anywhere - to Paris, New York, Mexico - anywhere as long as it would take her miles away from Lucas.

  A knock on the door made her sit up sharply, tense and trembling.

  "Philippa," Lucas called, "I want to see you."

  She refused to answer, and he spoke again. "I know you're in there, and whether you're fit to be seen or not, I'm coming in!"

  She lay back against the pillows, eyes tightly shut, hands clenched. The door opened, there were soft steps and one side of the bed sagged as he sat down on it. For what seemed an eternity, she remained still, knowing he was looking at her, but refusing to open her eyes.

  "It's no good pretending you're asleep," he said conversationally, "because I know damn well you're not." There was a pause. "Philippa, look at me." Another pause, and this time her clenched hand was taken and covered by both of his.

  She forced herself to remain supine, though with every part of her she longed to throw herself into his arms and beg him to believe she had told him the truth.

  "If you're always going to be as obstinate as this," he went on, "I can see we're going to have some pretty awful rows when we're married."

  Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. "Married?" she whispered.

  He regarded her gravely. "From what you said when I told you I loved you, I got the impression you didn't fancy liv
ing in sin!"

  "Oh, Lucas!" Her voice quavered, and she found it impossible to go on.

  But further words were unnecessary, for he lifted her up and cradled her in his arms, tenderly stroking her hair and the nape of her neck.

  "Hey," he said after a little while, "I don't fancy having my shirt washed with tears."

  "I'm not crying because I'm unhappy," she sobbed, "but because I can't believe it."

  "That I love you?"

  "No," she said, keeping her face hidden against his shoulder, "that you believe me and not Maya."

  "She told a pretty good story," he admitted, "but when it came right down to it I only had to make one decision."

  She moved back and looked up at him. "What was that?"

  "Whether you were a liar or whether she was. In point of fact, there was nothing to choose between either of your stories, so it boiled down to a question of character."

  "And you believed me ?" she said shakily.

  "Naturally." His tone was matter-of-fact. "I've always prided myself on being a good judge of character." She started to cry again and he took out his handkerchief to stem the flow.

  "I'm sorry," she gasped, "I never thought… When I came in and saw Maya here I didn't even want to tell you… With Roland dead I had no proof…"

  "You were my proof," he answered. "I didn't waste time asking myself whether you loved Master- son or whether you wanted him to get the contract. All I asked myself was whether you could be persuaded into stealing from me. Whether it was in your character to be a thief. And the answer was no."

  The telephone rang and she started to shake. "It's all right," he murmured. "There's nothing to be afraid of any more." He gently placed her against the pillows. "I'll take it in the other room," he said, and went out.

  She closed her eyes and relaxed. From the moment she had left Roland on the mountainside her one thought had been to see Lucas and tell him the truth. Not even the discovery that Roland was dead had made her realise there was no longer anyone to corroborate her story, and not until she had entered the sitting-room and seen Maya had her true position dawned on her. But by then it had been too late to run away. Which was a good thing, she thought with a sigh of happiness, for had she been able to think clearly, she would never have believed Lucas would accept her word.

  The telephone outside tinkled and she tilted her head as Lucas came back.

  "That was a Dr. Lopez," he explained. "He owns a nursing home on the outskirts of Rio. It seems that - that Masterson was taken there." He caught her hand and held it close. "He wasn't dead when he got there," he said slowly.

  "I must go to him." She struggled to sit up, but he pushed her back.

  "No, darling, it's no use. He died a few moments ago. Just before Lopez called me."

  "How did he know to ask for you?'

  "Masterson told him. He told him everything before he died. About Maya and Diegos and you."

  She closed her eyes, but even so the tears forced their way out and trickled down her cheeks. "Poor Roland," she whispered.

  "He was only poor when he lived," Lucas corrected. "In dying he became rich."

  Philippa placed Lucas's hand against her mouth and held it there. "I'm glad you said that. It doesn't make me feel so stupid for having loved him."

  "I wish I could say the same about myself and Maya." Lucas drew his hand away and went to stand by the window. "I was crazy about her years ago. I would have married her if we hadn't quarrelled, and before I could cool down she had married someone else. When I saw her again here it seemed to me that fate had brought me to Rio. I tried to make myself believe nothing had changed between us, but I knew it wasn't true." He turned and looked at Philippa lying on the bed. "You came between us."

  She held up her arms and he came over and buried his head against her breast. "I was so jealous of Masterson," he said huskily, "that I tried to make you jealous of Maya. Doesn't that show what a fool I am?"

  "I think we've both been fools," she murmured, stroking his hair. "The sooner we leave Rio the better."

  "We might have to come back again," he said, straightening. "I don't like disturbing our first bedroom idyll with more mundane things, but I thought you'd like to know Rodriguez gave me the contract this afternoon."

  She gaped at him and he laughed. "When I got back to the hotel there was a message asking me to call him. I did so and he told me the news."

  "Then your bid was the lowest?"

  "I don't know. All I know is that the contract's mine. It means I'll have to come here to supervise the beginning of the job, but you needn't come with me if you don't want to. I can understand why you'd hate to see this place again."

  "I'd hate it even more if I were left alone," she whispered, and pulled him back against her. "Besides, I'll only trust you with a secretary in the office! When you need one on your travels, it'll have to be me!"