Resort to Murder

by Glenys O'Connell

  Resort to Murder

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She walked briskly through the swirling wild carnival music and flashing colored lights of the funfair. She was alone. There was no one on the Drop of Death, no one on the Scrambler, no one rode the Teacups or even the old-fashioned painted horses of the carousel. Her breath came in painful spurts and her steps quickened because, hidden in amongst the flashes of blinding light and the intimate spaces of darkness, someone was watching—and he was coming after her in slow, inexorable pursuit. Out of the darkness an open door beckoned and, sobbing, she slipped inside—to be faced by her own image, repeated over and over again in grotesque form. The Hall of Mirrors. Each reflection showed her bloodless face, and in each image she clutched a blood red rose…

  Ellie catapulted into wakefulness, thankful to be out of the dream. But then reality rushed in on her. She’d spent the night uncomfortably curled on the settee instead of in her warm bed because someone had violated her home. How many nights had she sat like this, afraid to fall asleep because the unknown intruder who’d entered her apartment might return at any time? Ellie shivered, heavy headed from too little sleep, and realized that the pounding she’d thought was in her head was the beat of a fist on her front door.

  The door with its ruined lock sprang back on its hinges as she pulled the bolts, and Reilly stood there, his dark hair tousled but his brown eyes alert and bright, his fist raised for another hammering session on the already battered wood.

  “Whoa, there! Are you about to pound me, or have you already done enough to waken everyone for miles around?” Ellie questioned grumpily. The last wisps of the dream faded from her mind as she took in the comical look of him, his anxious expression and the fist clenched for another assault on the door.

  “God, Ellie, I thought...”

  “You look like crap, Reilly. What was it, a hangover? And what the hell are you doing here, anyway?” Ellie said, yawning hugely as she stepped back to allow him to pass her. Then another thought struck her, freezing her jaw in mid stretch. “Reilly, please...Jesus, tell me that there hasn’t been anything else...”

  “No - at least nothing I’ve been told about.” His calm had returned now that he was inside and knew she was safe. Never would he tell her of the fear that had lanced through him when for a few dreadful moments he’d thought that some intruder had slipped past into Ellie’s home while he’d dozed off during the long night. Nor would he ever tell her about the times during that night when he’d awoken filled with a burning need for her, nor how close he’d come to kicking open the broken door and carrying her to that narrow bed.

  Instead, he invaded her kitchen, uninvited, and filled the teakettle.

  “So, again, what are you doing on my doorstep at...?” Ellie paused to peer at the kitchen clock, “Good God, Reilly, it’s barely six o’clock!”

  “Yeah, well, I have an early meeting in Leeds, and I need to use your shower,” Reilly replied, as if dropping in on her for bathroom facilities was routine. He opened the cupboard doors, studying the contents, before shutting them in disgust. He repeated the process at the refrigerator. “Ellie, don’t you have anything to eat in this place?”

  She couldn’t help but smile as memories returned of Reilly, heavy eyed from a night of passion, climbing back into their love-scented bed with tea and toast as morning light filled the room. “You never were much good without your tea and toast.”

  “There was a time you thought I was pretty good.” His temper flared and she blushed. Giving her an evil look, he dropped two bags into the teapot; made a martyred sounding request that she make tea when the kettle boiled, and asked where she kept the towels.

  Ellie, about to snap a vitriolic reply, suddenly realized that if Reilly was here so early, it probably meant he’d spent the night in his car. She almost burst out laughing, except that a tiny core deep inside her bloomed with sudden tenderness. He stood watch outside, in the cold, damp, sea-seasoned night, to make sure my intruder didn’t return.

  A sensuous awareness snaked lazily from the pit of her stomach and Ellie swallowed on a suddenly dry mouth. Had she known he was there, so close, she would have felt so much safer, so much more secure. Would she have invited him in so that they could keep watch together? Ah, now, that would have been exposing herself to danger for sure. That hungry little quiver beat low in her stomach as her every nerve ending responded to feelings she’d thought had died of neglect. Regretfully, she pushed them away now. She’d need all her wits about her today—her first day back at work. Ellie had bigger fish to fry than Liam Reilly.

  Deep in thought, she poured hot water on the tea bags in the pot. A shadow fell across the thin net curtains and, startled, she sloshed boiling water onto the counter. It took her a moment to realize the shadow was Brad passing her kitchen window en route to the patio. She flicked the lock up and slid the door open to let him in.

  “Must be my day for early visitors,” she commented, sniffing the air appreciatively as she saw the small white bakery box in his hands.

  “Thought I’d bring breakfast for us again– croissants fresh from the oven,” Brad said, his arms going around her and drawing her to him as his mouth sought hers.

  “Don’t let me interrupt anything.” Reilly sauntered out of Ellie’s bathroom, obviously naked except for the bath towel wrapped precariously around his waist. He rubbed at his damp hair with the end of another towel draped around his neck, the movement causing the towel around his waist to slip ever more slowly downward. Mesmerized, she stared at the tiny drops of moisture clinging to the fine mat of hair on his chest, her eyes following them downward. Once upon a time she’d have licked away those tiny droplets and he’d have…Ellie shook herself back to the present.

  Brad was staring, too, his face contorted with rage. Only Reilly seemed comfortable with the scenario as he took the bakery box from Brad’s hand.

  “Uhmm, are those croissants? They smell wonderful,” he said, casually helping himself to the pastries, then pouring a hot mug of tea, apparently oblivious to the way his presence had exploded into the room.

  Ellie had time only to register the scene herself, noting with a little shock the puckered scar, a flash of glossy pink snaking in a livid line from his upper arm across to Liam’s shoulder, before Brad, white-faced with anger, asked, “What the hell’s he doing here?”

  “Brad, there’s an explanation...” Ellie stammered.

  “Lord, Ellie, how you’ve changed. You know,” Reilly said conversationally, turning to Brad, “she never used to explain herself to me. Oh, no - she’d do the most outrageous things, and then fly into a rage, claim I was invading her space, if I questioned or complained...”

  “That’s not true, Reilly, and you know it,” Ellie spluttered - and realized too late that she’d fallen into his trap. Struggling to regain control of the situation, she turned to Brad, trying not to look into his hurt and angry eyes.

  “Brad...there was a break-in here, last night...”

  “Yeah, and Reilly spent the night to protect you?” Brad’s voice drawled dangerously. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “We were awake all night, too,” Reilly chimed in, sinking his teeth into the tender croissant. Brad gave him a murderous look.

  “Can we talk later, Brad?” Ellie said desperately.

  “Sure, Ellie. If you can find the time,” Brad snapped. He stalked out, slamming the patio door shut behind him. As soon as they were alone, Ellie turned on Reilly.

  “What did you do that for?” she demanded fiercely.

  “Do what?” Reilly asked, reaching forward to select another croissant, the towel around his waist threatening to slip at any moment. “These really are very good, by the way.”

  She wanted to slap the croissant from his hand, or better yet, ram it down his throat. She wanted to leap on him and pummel that smug look from his face. Only that would mean...color rose in her face as she thought of the times she’d straddled his lap, rubbing the soft wiry hair of his
chest, drying him after they’d showered together. As if he caught her thoughts, Reilly gave a low chuckle, and Ellie’s anger flared again.

  “You deliberately gave Brad the impression that you’d spent the night here. No, more than that...you let him think that we’d...”

  “That we’d what, Ellie?” Reilly said softly, his eyes trapping hers. A long moment ticked by before Ellie dropped her gaze, her skin tingling with the memory of their lovemaking. They’d been so very good together…

  “Brad was making up his own mind what to think. Never mind, you can call him later and explain everything,” Reilly added.

  Lost for words, Ellie flounced toward the bathroom. “Oh, by the way—I borrowed your razor. I hope you don’t mind,” Reilly called after her. He smiled as she replied by slamming the door so hard the cottage shook.

  Ellie was still seething when, showered and dried, she stood in front of her small wardrobe, glumly surveying the contents and wondering what to wear. She had to keep her anger hot because, deep down inside, her feelings for Liam were struggling for resurrection. Feelings she’d assumed were dead and buried, that had died of grief because of his betrayal. She had no time for that now. And as for Brad - he could choose to think what he liked. If he didn’t trust her, then there was no point in going any further. To hell with them all.

  So it was a militant, hard-shelled Ellie who strode out of her bedroom, dressed in a smartly tailored black pant suit and white silk shirt, black court shoes on her feet.

  “You look very businesslike,” Reilly said, his eyes skimming lazily over her in a way that made her knees tremble despite the little lecture she’d given herself in the bedroom.

  “I’ve a meeting in town, and my car’s in for service. If you have to leave early, you can give me a lift,” she said crisply, pouring herself tea and enjoying Reilly’s injured look as she snatched the last croissant from under his hand. “I’ll wait while you dress.”

  “Yes, your ladyship,” Reilly said meekly. Ellie was suspicious—Reilly compliant was not to be trusted. But Ellie took satisfaction from knowing she’d disconcerted him with her cool approach, and smiled to herself as he walked obediently into the bathroom.

  ****

  Brad walked along the beach, too blazing mad to even countenance the thought that he might be jumping to the wrong conclusion. How dare she? They’d been dating almost six months now and she’d never let him past first base, but Reilly walks back into her life and he’s in her bed before sunset. Then she tried to deny there was anything going on, when it was as obvious as hell. Did she think he was stupid? He’d walked in to find her, all mussed up and sleepy-eyed, with her ex-lover prowling around naked as a jaybird but for a towel. For a few moments there, as he’d stood in her kitchen and witnessed her betrayal, he’d been angry enough to snatch up one of those wickedly sharp kitchen knives he had bought for her, or wrap his hands around her slender neck, and kill her on the spot.

  ****

  The drive to Leeds took almost two hours, and they traveled mostly in silence. Liam seemed preoccupied and didn’t inquire as to where Ellie was going in Leeds. Which as far as Ellie was concerned, was a good thing. She was sure if that old fox Chief Superintendent Harris had told Reilly he was not only bringing Ellie back on the force, but that he was putting her on the Special Task Force, Reilly would have let her know he knew. In no uncertain terms. He would be furious, she was sure of it.

  And that made it all the sweeter, anticipating the expression on his face when he walked into the briefing room and saw her there. Saw her there but couldn’t say anything before his staff, until he could get her alone when the meeting was over. Now that would be an interesting chat! Ellie gave a little shiver, part anticipation, part fear.

  Tired from the previous day and the early sleepless night, she fell asleep as the car sped through the countryside. Wild moors and small villages, rocky sheep-dotted hills and the encroaching modern housing estates flew by unremarked by either of them. Ellie’s last thought as she fell asleep was how good it felt to be safe in Reilly’s hands.

  They arrived at police headquarters and Liam turned to watch Ellie for a few moments, enjoying the peaceful look on her face and struggling not to give into the temptation to lean down and plant a kiss on her soft, full lips. Eventually, when she wriggled sleepily in the seat and a lock of blonde hair fell onto her cheek, the temptation became too much and he gently brushed his lips against hers—and was shocked and delighted when she responded.

  At least, she responded until she came fully awake, then she pushed him away as hard as she could, her hands splayed across his chest. “What the hell…Reilly, you can’t do that. We can’t do that!”

  “I’m sorry, you looked so tempting while you were asleep,” he said with a lazy honesty that annoyed her even as it excited her.

  “Is this close enough to where you wanted to go?” he asked, becoming businesslike again.

  “It’s exactly where I wanted to go,” she replied sweetly, brushing the hair from her eyes before opening the door and stepping gracefully from the very masculine SUV.

  Reilly watched with shock as she walked into the police station.

  But that was nothing to the shock he experienced when the Chief Super finally dropped his bombshell on him. Ellie Fitzpatrick was not only back from suspension, but she was to be an active member of Liam’s own team.

  It took Superintendent Reilly all his self-discipline not to ask if his boss had gone stark raving mad.

  Resort to Murder

  CHAPTER SIX

  “She’s going to want watching, that one,” Chief Superintendent Harris said mildly, casually opening another packet of mints as though he hadn’t just dropped an unpinned grenade into Reilly’s lap. “But at least while she’s here, we can do that. Mind, I don’t want any repeat performances of the screw ups that went on six months ago. We still don’t know who, or why—and we don’t know which side Fitzpatrick is on.”

  Reilly’s mouth tightened whitely. “Then why are you putting her in this position? Aside from possibly putting her in danger, aren’t you coming close to entrapment?” His voice was harsh in the quiet room.

  “Maybe we are, but it’s the only way. I’ll bet you any money that girl won’t be able to resist opening the protection racket files on the sly. If she is involved, this way it will all be over, once and for all. If not, she gets what she wants. Either way, we get a mess cleared up.”

  The room was suddenly possessed by the silence that had been nibbling at its edges ever since Harris had announced that Ellie Fitzpatrick was to join Reilly’s Special Task Force murder investigation team. Harris eventually broke it.

  “You’re not happy about this, are you, son?” he questioned mildly, popping another mint into his mouth. Giving up smoking had led to an addiction to strong mint candies.

  “No, sir, I’m not.” Reilly thought ‘not happy’ was putting it mildly. “Fitzpatrick is a liability. She’s bright, don’t get me wrong—but she’s volatile and she’s been away too long. And she’s got an emotional investment in the Slasher case. We’ve already seen once how it played on her nerves. It could happen again,” Reilly replied, not bothering to hide his disapproval.

  “Well, so long as that’s the only emotional investment we have to worry about,” Harris said pointedly, his direct look sending Reilly the clear message that he knew about the relationship that had existed between the two, and was not happy about it.

  Reilly’s mouth tightened, but he said nothing. There was nothing to say.

  ****

  Ellie calmed herself with a deep breath, smoothing down her suit jacket, before entering the briefing room and facing the rest of the team. She took a few moments to stand by a sun-flooded window in the corridor and watch the busy street outside. Clouds were gathering low on the horizon, promising rain. It did not seem like a cheerful omen.

  “Well, well, Fitzpatrick. You look like a naughty kid standing outside the headmaster’s office.” There was no
mistaking the sneer in Sergeant Jay Richards’ voice. “Got called in for a good telling off at last, did you?”

  “Get lost, Richards,” Ellie said, not even turning from the window. It was harder to ignore him as he stepped so close behind her that she could feel the tension in him. “And it’s Inspector Fitzpatrick to you.”

  “Now that’s not nice, darlin’, and here was I about to suggest that we play hooky and be naughty together. I’d even let you spank me, if you like.”

  Ellie had to fight an urge to turn around and slap the silly grin she knew was there right off Richards’ face. But she knew instinctively that he was trying to get her to lose control and lash out. Assaulting another officer. Why Richards would want her further discredited, Ellie could not imagine. Except for the fact that he had never liked her. For as long as she had known him, the man had made her life difficult. Finally, with a long-suffering sigh, she turned around, refusing to cower backward even though the movement brought her nose to chest with him. “Okay, Richards, what’s your problem?” she asked.

  “Yeah, Richards, what is your problem?” Reilly’s deep voice cut like a saw blade through softwood, and Ellie saw a brief flash of some emotion—anger—fear—flit across Richards’ face at the sound of his superior officer’s voice. But his grin barely wavered and he said blandly, “Oh, hello, sir. Just having a quick chat with Ellie—not often we see her in town—especially alone. How’s the old guy I saw you with in the pub, Ellie?”

  “Don’t you have work to do?” Reilly’s voice was ice-cold, but Richards only grinned nastily at Ellie, sketched a brief, mocking salute at Reilly, and strode away. They all knew his barbed remarks had hit their targets.