Her Sister's Secret

by E. V. Seymour

  “Read but can’t nick.”

  “Maybe I should adopt something similar for the shop.” I squeezed his hand. “Best first date ever.”

  Rocco turned with a suggestive smile, drew me close. “Bit late for a first date, isn’t it?” Taking my face in his hands, he kissed me on the lips in full view of a bunch of Japanese tourists.

  “That was nice,” I said. “Fancy something to eat or coffee?”

  “I know exactly the right place.”

  We headed out of cathedral yard and down aptly named Church Street, a narrow-pedestrianised area with quirky independent craft, art, food and coffee shops.

  “I love it here,” Rocco enthused. “When I’m old and grey, this is where I’m going to settle.”

  “That’s some pre-planning. Seriously?” I teased.

  He turned, dark eyes fastening on mine. No smile. An emotion I couldn’t gauge travelled behind his eyes. The intensity freaked me out. Despite the easy-going veneer, Rocco had an iron will. Something about that didn’t stack with the rest of him.

  “Easy,” I said, squeezing his hand, “I get it.”

  He snapped on a smile and we headed into a cafe.

  In seconds, we were sitting in a walled courtyard amongst lavender-scented rockery, Cappuccinos and chocolate muffins ordered.

  I leant back, tipped my sunglasses onto my head and turned my face to a blaze of sunshine. Mellow, beautiful, at odds with the ugliness of another summer day. A simple moment in time, I longed to let go and enjoy it. If only.

  When I opened my eyes, Rocco was watching me. He did it a lot, I’d noticed, funny boy. “What?” I said.

  “I like looking at you.”

  He tipped forward, kissing me lightly. “I’ll have to ruin your view for a few seconds. Does this place have a loo?”

  “Bottom of the garden, I believe.”

  “Watch my bag?”

  “Won’t take my eyes off it.”

  So off I toddled, feeling warm and fuzzy with happiness however fleeting it might be.

  The loo was more potting shed than bathroom. I had to search around for loo roll. It took me an age to turn on the tap, and when I did, it gushed boiling water. Soap was a dried up sliver. There was no towel. None of this dented my mood, which was absurdly buoyant, bordering on rapturous. Halfway up the path, back to our table, cold fear settled in the centre of my chest. I stopped, blinked, looked again. What the hell?

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

  Rocco paused, looked up with a puzzled smile and broke off from his conversation. “Your phone rang.”

  “My phone.”

  “I thought it might be important.”

  “I asked you to watch my bag, not dive into it.” My voice was uncomfortably raised. Several people turned around.

  “But—”

  “You had no right.”

  “It’s Zach.”

  “What?” I could count on one hand the number of times my brother had phoned in the last ten years. Most occasions had been thinly disguised requests for money.

  “Your brother.”

  “I damn well know who he is.” I snatched my mobile out of Rocco’s hand, marched back down the path, out of earshot and into the shade.

  “Yes?”

  “Did I ring at a bad time?”

  Was there ever a good time? “No.”

  “Sounds as if you’re having a bundle.”

  “A misunderstanding.” Liar.

  “Nice guy, whoever he is.”

  I cast a long look back up the garden, my cold stare enough to drill holes in Rocco’s face. “How would you know?”

  “Because we just had a conversation.” He spoke in a ‘duh’ tone, vaguely reminiscent of my mother. In a bid to calm down, I attempted to count to ten. I managed five.

  “Zach, the last time we met you told me not to meddle in things I don’t understand.”

  “Ah, well, that’s why I’m calling. To apologise.”

  “Really.” Two tones underpin that word. The WOW, surprised ‘tell me more’ version and the cold sarcastic ‘you can’t be serious’ version. Mine fell into the latter category.

  “Honest.” An attribute I don’t normally associate with my brother. “Am I forgiven?” he asked, wheedling.

  Obviously, in an attempt to broker peace, Mum had put him up to it. “Easy, isn’t it? Shooting shit and then expecting one word to make it all better.” To be fair, Zach rarely said sorry because he considered it a weakness. It must have cost him, but my mood had swung to north of foul and I refused to cut him slack.

  “Molly, please don’t be cross.”

  I pictured him hopping from one foot to the other; sweat gathering underneath his arms, exploding across his brow, fingernails scratching at itchy druggie skin. “I’m not cross. I’m confused. What did you mean when you told me to back off?”

  “I didn’t mean anything. Angry words. Heat of the moment. Jesus, after what happened to Scarlet, what do you expect?”

  “Don’t use Scarlet as an excuse for your behaviour. You threatened me.”

  “I didn’t, but if you think I did then I’m sorry.” After that, he shut up.

  “Okay,” I said finally. “Let’s draw a line underneath it.” Mine was extremely squiggly.

  Off the hook, Zach became almost chatty. “Dad told me they have a house guest.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “How long is Dusty staying?”

  “’Till the funeral, whenever that is. You will be there, won’t you?”

  “Yeah. Course.”

  “Only—”

  “Gotta go. Tanya needs me. Emergency.”

  I stared at the phone for several seconds then returned to cold coffee and what I thought would be chilly conversation. Wrong. Rocco’s face was a picture of contrition.

  The second my rear hit the seat, he said, “I shouldn’t have picked up your phone.”

  I felt my spine stiffen despite him looking genuine enough. I barely knew Rocco and already he was asking a ton of questions and helping himself to the contents of my handbag. “Privacy is something I treasure.”

  “I know. It won’t happen again.” He reached across, placed a warm hand over mine. “Are we good?” A smile broke across his face so mesmerising it could give the sun a run for its money.

  “Okay,” I said, relenting. “We’re good.”

  Chapter 36

  Maybe Scarlet’s sudden violent death had made me paranoid. Maybe I was thin-skinned, yet I was consumed with the fact that Rocco had answered a call on my phone, which had been tucked into my bag, and spoken to my brother. At some length, it would seem. After our date, Rocco dropped me back to my place, I hadn’t asked him in for a late lunch or anything else.

  Still bruised by the incident the next morning, I went to the shop.

  ‘Flotsam’ is a labyrinth of landings, staircases and dead ends. Oh, and a dirty, dank cellar, barely ventured into. You couldn’t pay enough to get me down there. Big pieces of furniture and large paintings are on display downstairs. Upstairs: vintage clothing, china, chairs, cutlery, occasional tables and what could only be described as bric-a-brac. Locked display cabinets contain vintage toy cars, medals, jewellery, knives and swords.

  Lenny eyed me over the rim of her Royal Doulton coffee cup – no point in having classy stuff if you’re not going to use it. “How did it go with your Mum and Dad?”

  “Fine.”

  They were all looking at a picture from the wrong angle and I couldn’t find the focus. I shrugged and clammed up, further conversation not up for grabs. Shrewd enough to catch on, Lenny steered the conversation onto a different footing.

  “Seen anything of Mr Noble?”

  “Spent the morning with him yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “It was nice.”

  “Nice?” Lenny uttered it in the same way she says ‘Fuck’.

  “You need to stocktake the china upstairs.”

  “Don’t change the subjec
t.”

  “I’m not. It’s long overdue.”

  “Lover’s tiff already?”

  “Shut up, Lenny.” Spying a customer, who’d taken an obvious liking to a French cherry wood set of drawers with bowed legs, I headed off in her direction.

  “Would you do a deal on this?” the woman asked.

  “Could let you have it for eighty-five.”

  “Seventy-five?”

  “Eighty.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Will you need help to your car?”

  I looked pointedly at Lenny. “Hand Lenny your car keys, while I take the payment.”

  Diversionary tactics lasted as long as it took for Lenny to step out and back in. “Rocco not quite so rocking?”

  Heat flooded my chest, and sprayed up my neck, collecting on both cheeks. I swear ‘Boris’ the stuffed bear smirked at my obvious concern and, yes, disappointment. “Drop it, Lenny. Please.”

  Lenny’s soft blonde eyebrows drew together in dismay.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to snap.”

  “You look as if you’re going to cry.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Don’t tell me, you thought he was caring and compassionate. And now you think he’s sketchy.”

  I think he’s suspicious, but I could hardly tell Lenny this. I forced a smile. “My own fault. I should never have tumbled into bed with him.”

  “Your timing could have been better.”

  “Serves me right for sleeping with a stranger.” I swear the shop filled with the scent of Scarlet’s perfume, one of the Dior’s. I dragged myself back to the here and now, the visible, as opposed to the invisible, the unknown and unseen. “Things are moving way too quickly.” It sounded like a confession because it was a confession.

  “So, slow them down.”

  “You don’t understand.” I told her about the phone incident.

  Lenny crooked a knuckle under her chin and for once didn’t interrupt or pull an extravagant facial expression.

  “Is it such a big deal?”

  “You think what he did was okay?”

  “Not really but, if as Rocco says, he thought he was doing you a favour, maybe that’s all it was. Taking a liberty, granted.”

  “And talking to Zach?”

  Lenny shrugged. “Rocco’s personable and socially at ease. He likes to gas.”

  “You think I’m overreacting?”

  “Molly, I don’t blame you. I’d be fuming, but don’t let it stress you out. If Rocco Noble is what you need right now, who am I to argue?”

  “You’ve changed your tune.”

  “People do,” she said, with a wink designed to cheer me.

  “You’re a good pal.”

  “Why don’t you give him a ring?”

  “No way.”

  “From what you said, you were pretty frosty.”

  “We left things on an awkward note. I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

  I retreated to the back room, which doubled as a place to make drinks and sat down at the desk, a lovely nineteenth century twin pedestal number with a green leather top. With the intention of gathering my thoughts, I reached for a pad and pen and drew a diagram, in which Scarlet sat at the centre, the other names and players circling her like planets around the sun. I hadn’t got very far when I heard voices, one louder than the other.

  “Molly,” Dusty said, her greeting carrying over Lenny’s shoulder as if she were speaking via Tannoy. I flipped the pad face down, shoved it in a drawer, and returned to the showroom. “What a lovely shop, darling. I could spend a fortune in here.”

  “We’ve no problem with that, have we?” Lenny said.

  “Not at all, although you might need a home first. My aunt is always on the move,” I explained to Lenny.

  “And that’s part of the reason I’m here.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m booking into a hotel in town for the foreseeable future. Understandably, the atmosphere at home is highly charged. This way I can be on hand without—” She petered out, fluttering her fingers as if the right words were waiting to be snatched out of the ether. I felt for her. There were no right words for a time like this, only wrong ones. “Anyway,” she said, brightening. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Molly?”

  “Lenny meet Dusty, Dusty, Lenny,” I said mechanically.

  “Be a sweetheart, Lenny, and give me a guided tour. Oh Molly,” Dusty said as she sashayed past. “A good-looking man dropped by first thing this morning with flowers for you.” Straight out of the Chancer school of charm, I thought with warmth. “He said his name was Noble.”

  Lenny caught my eye. “Peace offering,” she said with a grin.

  Chapter 37

  “STOP”.

  I’d never read Fifty Shades of Grey, or seen the film, but I felt sure that Rocco Noble had. From the second I walked through the door; I was in thrall. Every cell in my body wanted him.

  You’re weak and pathetic, Molly Napier, I told myself.

  In the past I’d had bad sex, fast sex, cheap sex, drunken sex, good, maybe even thrilling, sex. Not in huge quantities like Lenny, with numerous partners, but I generally thought I recognised what pleased me and turned guys on. I knew my way around a man’s body. But I’d never felt such abandon, such intensity, never ever surrendered myself in that way. But I had my limits. After we disappeared into the void together, I wondered, not for the first time, who the hell Rocco Noble was. What was he trying to prove? What was his game? Why were we going at each other as though we wanted to kill? I understood where I was coming from, but the oddball guy with clever eyes and dazzling smile defied me.

  “Hell,” Rocco said, throwing himself off me stoked and slick with sweat. We both were. “Got carried away.”

  “Is that what it was?” My voice rasped. I was spent and there was a dull ache between my legs. I’m sure I had a love bite on my neck. I reached over, grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table. My hand was shaking so much it nearly slipped through my fingers. Taking a greedy gulp, most of the liquid dribbled down my chin. At least we’d made it to bed. Eventually. The room looked like it had been trashed. Christ knows what the rest of the cottage looked like. My knickers were torn and the remnants clung for dear life to the bedpost. Rocco’s shirt lay ripped on the floor. Several buttons had popped off my shirt and littered the carpet. If we kept this up, we’d both need new wardrobes.

  He stretched out, hands above his head, hair damp at the temples, muscles in his torso rippling. Gym-bunny, I thought and said so.

  “Weights when I can be arsed. I’m not one of those guys who’s religious about it.”

  ‘Religious’ was not a word I’d associate with Rocco Noble. Despite his superficially clean-cut persona, there was something strange going on underneath, some of it positively Heathen. What demon drove him? Instinctively, my thoughts returned to Scarlet and to a contract killing in the mean streets of the capital.

  Familiar with the hollows and flat planes of his body, the fine line of hair running from his navel, I was surprised I’d missed a small tattoo high up, on his inner left arm.

  “That must have hurt.”

  “Yup.”

  I studied it inquisitively. Looked like a Japanese style temple. Inside, in classic script, the letter ‘D’. Intrigued, I asked Rocco what it signified.

  “Someone I knew.”

  The closed expression on his face gave him away. “Who was she?” I teased.

  Unclasping his hands, his arms dropped back to his sides. Not amused.

  “Must have been special.” I felt awkward, like I sometimes did when I said the wrong thing to Mum.

  Rocco turned towards me, smoothed a lock of hair away from my face. I looked at him intently. “Cute move to bring me flowers.”

  “It was meant as a genuine apology.”

  “I’m astounded by your detective skills.”

  Rocco tapped the side of his nose.

  “Why not go to the shop? It would have been
simpler.”

  “Your parents and where you come from are part of you.” He didn’t smile. It wasn’t said to flatter. He appeared to be serious about me. Muscles in my stomach contracted. “I like your mum. She isn’t what I expected.”

  “Funny observation.” And distraction.

  “She seemed quite a character—”

  “Tall, blonde, big eyes?”

  Rocco nodded.

  “That’s my aunt Dusty, my mum’s sister.”

  “Right,” he said, eyes alive, as if putting together my family tree. He ran an index finger along my ribs, tracing the hollows and curves of my body. “You’re very tense.”

  “It’s nothing.” I rolled away, reached for my underwear.

  “It clearly isn’t.”

  He crooked himself up on one elbow. Interest sparking.

  “I did something ridiculous,” I said, “and I wished I hadn’t because now I don’t believe the police. I don’t believe my brother. I don’t damn well believe anyone or anything.”

  “Do you believe me?” he said.

  I didn’t answer.

  Chapter 38

  Rocco leant back on the pillows; hands tucked behind his head. “There’s one thing you have faith in.”

  “What’s that?” I said, hooking up my bra. I was annoyed at being put on the spot.

  “You. Every instinct tells you that Scarlet was not depressed. Perversely, you also believe that she meant to do what she did. Except you don’t understand why and, sure as hell, you can’t understand why the police have wrapped it all up. In fact, you think it’s a whitewash.”

  I stopped getting dressed. How had he intuited that much from the little I’d said, or had I revealed more than I thought? Pillow talk was a dangerous activity.

  “I follow the news, Molly,” he said, rolling his eyes, pretending to be exasperated.

  Did this explain how he could read me so well?

  He reached up and pulled me back down on the bed with a thump. When he reached for and gathered me close, I felt the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath my ear. “So, what’s this ridiculous crime you’ve committed?”

  I pulled away a little. “I haven’t broken the law.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” He gave my arm a playful squeeze.