Good Deed Bad Deed : A Novel Mystery

by Marcia Morgan

  Sensing that his thoughts were elsewhere, Olivia said, “Is there something wrong? You seem to be miles away.”

  He took an obvious deep breath and answered, “I was, but it has nothing to do with you. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here—right now—with you.”

  “Can I help? Is it something about your office that has you stressed?”

  “No. No. It’s not that—just some business stuff. But I’ll do better. My eyes and thoughts will be on you for the rest of the evening. That’s how I like it.”

  “Hmmm—I don’t think you should stare at me during the set at the club. The musicians might be insulted. You should stop when you cross the street too. You might get hit.”

  He chuckled and smiled at her. Noticing the time, he signaled for the bill and they were soon on their way to the jazz club. About two hours later, having enjoyed the music and the stroll back to her flat, he asked to see her the following week. As they climbed the stairs to her flat, she told him about her plans and that she would be out of the country for about ten days. His disappointment was evident, either because he couldn’t see her, or because the plan he was ordered to carry out could be impossible and could put his brother in more danger. At that moment he couldn’t think of himself as Clive. He was Gareth Logan, an innocent weekend rugby player and employee of a technology services company who had been coerced into taking part in a crime about which he was being kept in the dark.

  He told himself to suck it up and do what he had to do, so he thought quickly and asked if he could take her to the airport. She declined, saying that she and her friend had booked a car service to pick them up. In an effort to glean more information he offered again, saying that if the taxi didn’t show up, she should call and he would hurry over. But he would need to know the time of her flight, and the airline—just to make it easier in a pinch. She didn’t quite understand his request, but saw no reason not to share the information, including the layover and arrival time at San Sebastián. Then he asked about their accommodations. Olivia was happy to talk about all of it— about her connection to Pamplona through her grandparents, about the guesthouse, its name, and that it was inexpensive. He suggested that due to his selective memory, he should write down the information—just in case of any problem they might encounter where he might be of help. Then he held up his phone and took her picture. He said it would help him not to miss her too much. She found his concern unnecessary, but found it all flattering. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a notepad and pen.

  They were still standing outside Olivia’s door when she told him she should go inside. The two stood face to face in the deserted hallway, each feeling self-conscious for a different reason. Gareth wanted desperately to kiss her, but the situation he was in made him doubt the wisdom of that choice. Olivia wondered in that moment what his kiss would be like—whether it would be tentative or passionate. Her preference was a kiss that began as tentative, its sweetness promising an explosion of passion to follow. She looked up and their eyes met. Neither said a word. He realized that this could be his only chance to kiss her. What was to come was still an unknown. What he wanted to do was to tell her everything, to appoint himself her protector, and for them to run far and fast. Instead, he leaned down and took the kiss. Standing on her tiptoes she met his lips halfway. The first kiss did begin tentatively, and he resisted putting his arms around her. Each backed off and looked into the other’s eyes again. Before either could take a second breath, he reached for her, his arms pulling her close to his chest. His open mouth devoured hers, and she returned the pressure. She felt his tongue slide into her willing mouth, and for as long as the exploration lasted she was lost in the idea of a romance with this rugged looking yet gentle man. They bid each other good night, each a little shaken by the unexpected intensity of their first kiss. Olivia went inside and just stood in her dark flat, reluctant to turn on the lights that would bring her back to reality.

  Kissing Olivia had left him too distracted to remember there was a lift. He took the two flights of stairs to the street very slowly, and once outside he began to wrestle with what was required of him. He stood on the sidewalk, leaning against a streetlight, wondering what to do next. He took out his phone and then hesitated. But there was no escaping his involvement, so he took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and dialed the number written there. The person who answered Gareth’s call had the same altered voice as the man that had recruited and threatened him, issued instructions, given him an alias, and was now generally in control of his life. With much reluctance he relayed the information regarding Olivia’s plans and whereabouts for the next week or so. The voice then ordered him to book any airline in whatever class available for a red eye flight to Madrid and on to San Sebastián. If a red eye flight wasn’t possible, he was to fly out early the next morning in order to arrive at least a day before Olivia and her companion. The ticket was to be paid for in cash. He had to be in Pamplona before they arrived, but he didn’t know why. Before leaving the airport he was to call the same number and tell whoever answered his flight number and arrival time. If no one showed up to get him at the airport, he was to hire a taxi to drive him from San Sebastián to Pamplona, where he was to book a cheap hotel, call the same number to report his whereabouts, and then stay put until he was contacted.

  Gareth sat before his computer, an assortment of flights showing on the screen. He made a decision on which to book and held it with a credit card, intending to pay cash at check-in. However, the flight would leave before dawn, before he could make a stop at the bank. The cash point wouldn’t give him enough for the ticket, and he had to have sufficient cash to pay for a taxi to Heathrow and Euros to get to San Sebastián. He rifled through the pockets of his jacket and pants, hoping to find something to put toward his expenses. His wallet held less than a hundred pounds. The evening with Olivia had taken the rest. Then he remembered the small envelope of cash that had been pushed under his door the week before. The note inside had said “for unexpected outlay in pursuit of your assignment.”

  At that time he had expected he would find a way out of the mess and wanted no part of owing these people anything. But following the daily threats made to his brother, he knew he was in it to whatever conclusion was in store. A short time passed before he remembered where he had hidden the envelope. His fear and disgust had kept him from opening it or counting the contents, but now there was no choice. A rush of adrenaline shot through him as he finished the tally. It held over two thousand pounds. He pulled his duffle bag from under the bed and stuffed it with enough clothes for a week or so, almost forgetting his razor and toothbrush. He rifled through several drawers for his passport, finally finding it when he dumped contents of the third out onto the bed. He put it on the table beside his bed, along with his watch and the roll of cash. Although he was plagued by anxiety and doubt, he laid down on his bed, hoping for a little rest before the taxi he had scheduled arrived to take him to Gatwick for his dawn flight to Madrid and on to San Sebastián. Emotional fatigue overwhelmed all thought and anxiety, and he fell into a restless sleep.

  It seemed the middle of the night when the alarm on Gareth’s watch startled him away from the meager three hours of sleep he had been able to manage. He sat on the edge of the bed, for a moment disoriented, and then, wishing it had all been a bad dream, got up and walked to the bathroom. At the sight of himself in the mirror—face drawn, eyes bloodshot— he knew it wasn’t a dream. Once resigned to the reality of the task at hand, he splashed cold water on his face and decided not to shave. He pulled on some clothes and then his old brown suede jacket. As he scanned the room he remembered the things on the nightstand and stuffed them into his pockets. He slung the duffle bag over his shoulder and headed for the door, stopping for an instant to look back at his cluttered apartment. He wondered if whatever lay in store would keep him from ever seeing it again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The McKinnons returned from London in the early evening. Th
ey entered the house and immediately began to look for Ben and Ana. The two were discovered relaxing in the small room that held the only television set in the house. Hugh asked them to come into the sitting room so he could explain what had happened at the museum. Paris asked Hugh for a drink, the day having taken its toll on her. Ben jumped up, offering to get it for her, and asked if anyone else would like something. Ana had no idea what news there was, but the seriousness of Hugh’s tone made her nervous with anticipation. Her day had seemed long, with only a few minutes respite playing with Sir Freddie on the kitchen step. Ben was preoccupied, picking up a book and putting it down again within minutes. She felt best if she stayed physically close to him, not letting him out of her sight. The need was illogical. They were safe, or relatively so, seemingly hidden away in the country. But she didn’t trust anything anymore. Watching Ben being beaten on the sidewalk had forever changed her.

  Ben returned to the sofa, sat down beside Ana, and gave her hand a squeeze. His touch sent warmth flooding through her body, and when he turned toward her, his deep blue eyes focusing on hers, the urges she felt seemed very inappropriate in a setting where his parents sat directly across from them. He had come up behind her while she was at the sink tidying up after lunch. He leaned in close, bringing his head over her shoulder to see what she was doing. She caught the scent of his cologne mixed with clean sweat. In her imagination he had turned her around and planted a decisively lusty kiss on her enthusiastic lips. Ana sensed his interest, sensed the pleasant tension in the room whenever they were together. She wondered what he was waiting for… the right moment perhaps? She had been lost in thought while the three others were talking, and soon she heard Ben saying her name once, then again.

  “Ana … Ana … Mum asked you a question.”

  Flustered by her poor manners, Ana said, “Oh, please forgive me. I was distracted—lost in thought. Please… what had you asked me?”

  “With all of us talking at once I’m not surprised you were distracted. What I asked was whether you have everything you need. I know that you weren’t planning on an extended stay. I thought you might need some clean clothes, or to have Edith do some laundry for you. You’re welcome to anything I might have as well.”

  “You’re very kind. Perhaps I can organize that in the morning.” She quickly changed the subject, turned toward Ben, and said, “Do you think we should tell your parents the whole thing about the dead rabbit?”

  Ben looked at his parents and began to give more of an explanation. “Sir Freddie brought us an offering this afternoon. He was scuffling in the bushes and came out with a rabbit—shot clean through with a handgun. It definitely wasn’t a shotgun. The whole thing was very disturbing to Ana.

  Ana chimed in, her face as sad as if she had been related to the creature, “How could anyone just use the little thing for target practice.”

  Paris chose to answer her question and spoke very gently. “Dear, here in the country we find rabbits to be pests, cute as they are. They are prone to destroy gardens, help themselves to the vegetables, and they proliferate at an alarming rate. Someone may have thought they were doing us a favor.”

  Ben tried to lighten the conversation, as well as bring it to an end. “True, it was an unpleasant sight, but it sure made Sir Freddie’s afternoon.”

  Everyone chuckled at the thought of the dog prancing proudly to the kitchen door, an offering held softly in his mouth. Hugh got up, walked to the fireplace and put his drink on the mantle. “There are much more important things to talk about. Let’s get back to the matter at hand. It requires some organization. Paris now has instructions that she must be in the office tomorrow—that all will be revealed. She will stay in her office while I go into Lloyd’s for a meeting. That’s a better choice because I can’t be seen walking into the building where Interpol has its offices. I’ve arranged for two agents to meet with me at Lloyd’s.” Then he was quiet, for a moment deep in thought and tapping his fingers on the mantle. He turned to them and continued. “Hopefully, by the time of the meeting at Lloyd’s, Paris will have received the information about what is required of her.” He shook his head in disgust. “How did this family ever manage to get tied up in what looks like a ridiculous caper?” He picked up his drink and downed it in one gulp, placing the empty glass on the mantle rather loudly. He then returned to his chair and let himself all but fall into it, the fatigue of day suddenly hitting him.

  “Hugh, I think you should tell them about your ‘arrangement.’ Otherwise they’re likely to call the police and report an intruder on the property.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” he said, the fatigue showing in his voice. He turned toward Ben and Ana then sat forward, his hands folded, elbows resting on his knees. “I called in a favor. There’s someone watching the house and property— just as a precaution.”

  Ana shared that when she sneaked a walk to the gate, she had seen a car parked across the road and a man leaning against a tree, talking on a mobile phone. For a moment she had been frightened and returned quickly to the house. When she went outside about an hour later the car was gone. She hadn’t mentioned it to Ben because she knew he’d be annoyed, and she feared that he might go out into the road and confront the man. She wasn’t taking any more chances with his safety. When she stopped talking, Paris gave her a tender and appreciative look, then glanced at her son to see his reaction. A different kind of smile crossed his face, one that she couldn’t remember seeing before. He rarely smiled while he was married to Valerie. There seemed to be a special brightness in his eyes and his cheeks were slightly flushed. She recognized the signs and was delighted.

  Hugh asked for everyone’s attention, and when all eyes were on him, he said, “Tomorrow is the day we get answers. I think you, Ben, and of course Ana, should come with us to London. I can keep an eye on you, and we’ll all be together when we find out what’s coming.”

  Paris chimed in immediately. “Yes, your father’s right. And I’ll feel more relaxed if we’re together.”

  “I’ll have to leave for a while, to meet with the agents. Ben—listen to me. You and Ana absolutely must stay at your mother’s office, both for your own safety and for hers. I don’t like having her out of my sight, but plans have to be put in motion.”

  Ben nodded his head in agreement, adding, “Good plan, Dad. But I have to say again how much I hate that you’re now involved in this. Besides, I want to have my eye on Ana too. We all need to stay together as much as possible.”

  Paris interrupted. “I’m the one who’s gotten everyone involved. I’m the one who’s getting the calls— the threats— and I’m the one who’s being manipulated— undoubtedly to break the law. At least that’s what I’m expecting.”

  The room was quiet for several minutes before Ben suggested that they try Olivia again. She was bad about answering her phone, or responding to texts and voicemail, but they needed to talk to her. He checked his pocket for his mobile, stood and pulled it out, and then went out into the hall. Not three minutes later he was back. “No joy… again.”

  “In the morning we’ll call her boss.” Hugh paused, an expression of annoyance rather than concern on his face. “He should know what she’s up to. I’m sure he can cajole her into getting in touch.”

  “I haven’t talked to her since that dinner we had weeks ago. She ended the evening abruptly. I must have done something wrong— who knows with Olivia. She can change moods in a heartbeat. I’ve left a few voice messages, but no response. I figured she’d get in touch when she was ready.” Ben got up and walked to the window and gazed out into the approaching darkness. He turned back, put his hands in his pants pockets, shrugged, and looked squarely at his parents. “Do you suppose you’re being punished too—by association?”

  Ben’s parents looked at each other and shrugged as well. Hugh said, “Stranger things have happened. We are talking about Olivia, bless her heart. We’ll find out eventually. It won’t be the first time. All three of us share the responsibility for
spoiling her.”

  Paris countered with a defense for her daughter. “Olivia’s not a self-centered girl— she’s just rather mercurial. She cares about world situations, children and poverty. I know from what she’s said— that she has favorite charities and contributes what she can.”

  “We’re not putting her down, Mum. We men just have a hard time figuring her out. She’s a unique soul. I knew that by the time she was ten— even before. Maybe it’s the creativity that sets the marching tune for her particular drummer.” His comment lightened the mood and the three shared the humor, not at Olivia’s expense but because they realized how much they loved her. Edith had left them a light supper, and following that, all agreed that it should be an early night.

  Ben followed Ana upstairs, while his parents let Sir Freddie into the pantry to sleep and then secured the house. Ben walked Ana to the door of her room, where they stood talking a bit, Ben standing close to her as she leaned against the door. She impulsively looked up at him and found his remarkably blue eyes looking straight into hers. Without touching her Ben leaned down, lightly brushing his lips across hers before kissing her cheek. His lips lingered there, and again Ana was overcome by the now familiar flush coursing through her body. Her impulse was to take his face in her hands and kiss him, not on the cheek but on the lips, and in a way that would carry no doubt of intention. Ana was filled with passion in need of expression; however, she just smiled and touched his cheek with her palm. When he returned the smile, she looked down self-consciously. Something about the whole thing felt adolescent, but the sweetness of the moment made it remarkable. Without another word he turned and walked toward his room. When he reached the door she was still standing in front of hers. He looked back and said goodnight. The reasons for their reticence were clear: He didn’t want to seem too eager; she didn’t want to seem too easy.