When Night Closes in (31 page)

‘We're not all like you, Justin. I'm no high-flyer.' Lowri got to her feet. ‘Read the paper or something while I get ready.' She walked to the door and Justin's voice stopped her.

‘So where is Mother? I'd like to see her.'

He knew they were separated, then; that meant he had been in touch with Charles. Lowri glanced back over her shoulder.

‘It's some little cottage somewhere. I'll have to look it up, you know what a memory I've got for addresses and numbers.'

She turned the shower setting to hot and stood under the spray of water, feeling the heat wash the tension from her shoulders. It was only natural Justin would want to see Rhian, it was years since he had last been in the country.

Her brother had changed, Lowri conceded that. He had brought generous gifts for both Rhian and for her, and he seemed far more open and honest than he had ever been as a child.

She remembered the times Justin would lock her in her room and dangle the key at her from a ladder outside the window. Once he had shut her in the walk-in pantry at Summer's Dean and she had only been let out when Rhian returned home from a shopping trip.

Still, that was all a long time ago. Justin had been a normal healthy teasing boy. Most sisters hated their brothers when they were children. Lowri soaped her body, enjoying the feel of the hot shower on her skin. Her hair clung wetly to her cheeks and shoulders and she thought of Lainey touching her hair, making love to her.

She turned off the shower and stepped out into the bathroom, pulling on a towelling robe. The last slant of sun shone through the window and, for a moment, Lowri was reminded of the night when Jon had disappeared.

Where had he gone? Was he even still alive? She supposed those questions might never be answered. She realized now that she had never really loved him. The feelings she had for Jon faded into insignificance whenever she thought of Lainey. She was in love with him – more fool her. He simply saw her as an accomplice in a crime.

‘About time too!' Justin said when she returned to the living-room, her face carefully made up, her hair dried into soft curls. ‘But I must say the wait was worth it! You look a million dollars, sister mine.'

‘Well, compliments from my brother! Things are looking up.' She picked up her jacket and handbag. ‘Right then, are you ready to paint this town red?'

‘Sure am, sis.' He took her hand and slipped it through his arm. ‘Raring to go, as they say.'

She smiled up at him. ‘You're not half bad, you know,' she said.

He winked at her. ‘I'm a perfect specimen of manhood. Now come on, let's get out of this poky little place, it's making me claustrophobic.'

‘Hey, you're talking about the home I love.' Lowri slapped her brother's arm. ‘Now get into the car and shut up or I won't take you out.'

She started the car and drove away from the kerb and, glancing in the rear-view mirror, she saw a dark car pull out from behind them and follow them up the road. The police, no doubt. Well, that was no surprise. Indeed, Lowri found the thought comforting. Even if it was in just a professional way, Lainey cared.

‘I should see Lowri, explain everything to her,' Rhian Richards said softly. ‘I know Justin is my son but I'm not looking forward to meeting him again. What is it that the police suspect him of, Terence?'

‘It's probably nothing to worry yourself over.' Terence pushed his glasses back into place and Rhian smiled.

‘You should get yourself a pair of glasses that fit, at least,' she said fondly. ‘I know you are a small-town solicitor and I know you won't let me help you, but surely you can afford essentials now and then?'

‘I'm just too lazy to go for an eye test, my dear. Anyway, how are you feeling today?' He put his head on one side. ‘As far as I can see the roses are not back in your cheeks yet, so worry about yourself, not about my glasses.'

‘I'm all right. Now, getting back to Justin, what do the police think he's done? I hope to heaven he isn't following Charles and indulging in dubious, hare-brained schemes.'

‘No no, nothing like that.' Terence sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the fire, and Rhian thought how cosy it was in his little house. She loved Summer's Dean, but home was where the heart was, and her heart had always been with Terence Watson.

If only she had not been too proud to go to him when she learned she was pregnant with Lowri, how different her life might have been.

‘What then? Tell me.'

‘The police had a tip-off that Justin was carrying contraband goods. Probably a malicious joke, I should think. Has the boy got any enemies in this country?'

Rhian shrugged. ‘I shouldn't think so, but then you never know your children, I suppose. Justin might well have stepped on a competitor's toes in some business deal or other.'

‘That's most likely it, then,' Terence said. ‘At any rate, nothing suspicious was found among the boy's possessions.'

‘That's a relief.'

The phone rang shrilly from the hall and Terence went to answer it. He returned in a few moments, looking grave. ‘Talk of the devil,' he said, ‘that was your son.'

‘Justin?'

Terence smiled. ‘Justin, that's unless you've got some other son you have omitted to tell me about.'

‘No no, he's the only one. What does he want?'

‘He thinks the police are having him followed.' Terence sank into his chair. ‘He wanted to know if I could call them off.'

‘And can you?'

‘Not at this time of night,' Terence said, shaking his head. ‘In any case, he could easily be mistaken. A dark car followed him and Lowri from her house to the restaurant where they were having dinner, and waited outside until they came out. It could be nothing at all. I can't see the police wasting money on observation duties when there is no concrete evidence of any wrongdoing.'

Rhian felt a qualm of fear. ‘Could it be a malicious competitor then?' She knew in her heart it was Lowri she was concerned for. Justin led his own life, he always had. He seemed to have become very wealthy and Rhian often wondered if his splendid house with the vast swimming-pool had been bought with the proceeds of illicit deals.

‘Don't worry about it or I'll be sorry I told you. Look, phone Lowri if you like. She's at home now, both of them are, they're quite safe.'

Rhian sighed. ‘No no, you're right, no harm will come to them tonight, not if they are back at home.'

Terence heaved himself to his feet. ‘I've got a splendid idea – let's have a stiff drink and then go to bed.'

‘You randy devil!' Rhian said. ‘I thought you were telling me to rest, that I looked pale.'

Terence smiled mischievously. ‘Well, I can do all the work, can't I? All you need to do is lie back and enjoy it.'

‘You conceited man!' Rhian said but she took the drink he poured her and the blood sang in her veins. She was with the man she had always loved, and that was worth more to her than all the riches in the world.

Lainey walked past Lowry's house, seeing the lights on in the window. The curtains were closed but he could hear the distant sound of music coming from inside. At least Lowri was with her brother and not with another man. The thought should not have been a comfort to him, but somehow it was.

How deeply was she involved in the net that was drawing in her brother, her stepfather and Jon Brandon, always supposing he could be found? Lainey had at last come up with some answers to his questions and they did not put his mind to rest, not one little bit.

His counterparts in Canada had e-mailed him some information which revealed that Justin Richards was worth a great deal of money. Money that could not possibly be accounted for by the proceeds from the wines and spirits business that Justin owned. Somehow, somewhere, something else was being peddled and the most likely item was information. It was easy to transport, especially by CD.

Blackmail was always an option. Digging into other people's lives and learning something best kept secret meant ready cash. Careers could be ruined, marriages jeopardized; even lives could be put at risk.

If only that damned disc could be found, the one that had been given to Lowri by Timmy Perkins. The boy had not recovered his memory as yet and even when he did, he might not know if there was anything of significance on the disc left at his house by his flighty girlfriend.

The music stopped abruptly and the lights in the downstairs room went out. Lainey glanced at his watch and the luminous dial showed him it was after one a.m. He was a fool, standing in the road watching Lowri's house. What would he learn wandering the streets at this time of night, when the suspects would soon be tucked up safely in bed?

He took out a cigarette, watching as lights went on upstairs, first the landing, then the front bedroom. He lit the cigarette, shading the flame with his hand, and puffed as though he could find inspiration in the curls of smoke arising from the tip.

One by one the lights were switched off. He sighed; he might just as well go home. He walked back to his car parked a little way along the road and unlocked it. A light rain had begun to fall and he felt the dampness penetrating his jacket. He huddled in his seat and fastened his safety-belt. He was cold and hungry and painfully lonely for the one woman he loved but could not have.

‘Damn you, Lowri!' he muttered. He was just about to turn on the ignition when he saw a figure emerge from Lowri's gateway. It was Justin Richards, he could be seen clearly in the light from the street lamp.

He climbed into the Mazda and started it up and Lainey sighed in satisfaction. He had known in his gut that something was going to happen tonight and when it did, he meant to be right there.

Lowri sat at her desk, her hands idly resting on her lap. The computer screen seemed to stare blankly at her and she sighed. She was never going to be able to concentrate on work until she had seen Mr Watson and demanded an explanation from him.

She glanced impatiently at her watch: the hands seemed to be creeping from minute to minute. It was ten past eleven, late even for Mr Watson.

Restlessly, Lowri got up and walked towards the reception area. Mrs Jenkins was working on a document, her hands flying across the keyboard.

‘Have you heard from Mr Watson?' Lowri asked. She stood in front of the desk, leaning forward so that Mrs Jenkins was forced to look up at her. The woman frowned.

‘Why?'

‘Because I need to speak to him.' Lowri's tone was curt. It was a mistake. Mrs Jenkins returned to her task, ignoring Lowri.

‘Mrs Jenkins, does being rude come naturally or have you had training?' Lowri asked. The woman did not show even by a flicker of an eyelash that she had heard. Lowri tried again.

‘If you don't answer me I shall be forced to ring Mr Watson, and you know he doesn't like to be disturbed at home.'

Mrs Jenkins shook her head. ‘Do what you please.'

Lowri was seething as she returned to her office. She sank down onto her chair and glowered at the phone as if it was not an inanimate object but had a life of its own. Mr Watson might be on his way to work. She had better wait at least another hour before taking steps to contact him.

Following Sally's custom, she made some coffee. She looked at the other empty cups and, with a sigh, spooned coffee into one for Mrs Jenkins. She could hardly be so petty as to leave the woman without a drink.

She overfilled the cup and, suspecting that Mrs Jenkins would not approve of coffee in the saucer, held it away from her and made her way slowly to the door. Fortunately she had left it ajar and opened it easily with her foot.

Mrs Jenkins did not hear her coming. Lowri stood behind her, her eyes drawn to the computer screen which was filled with indecipherable cyber-text. Lowri narrowed her eyes, trying to see more clearly without moving any closer.

Mrs Jenkins sensed her presence and immediately exited the program. The screen returned to the desk top as, carefully, Lowri put the coffee on the desk.

‘Sorry I was rude earlier on,' she said. ‘I'm just a bit fraught this morning, that's all.'

‘Thank you for the coffee,' Mrs Jenkins said. ‘But I never drink the stuff, hadn't you noticed?'

The woman had no social graces to speak of, but Lowri bit her lip against a flurry of angry words.

‘You might as well pour it away, I can't abide even the smell of it,' Mrs Jenkins said. She took a herbal tea bag from her drawer. ‘A cup of hot water would be acceptable, however.'

Lowri took the coffee away and grudgingly poured hot water from the kettle. When she returned to reception Mrs Jenkins simply nodded as Lowri put the cup beside her.

‘What on earth was all that stuff on the computer just now?' Lowri asked casually. ‘Some sort of bug, was it?'

‘I don't know what you mean.' Mrs Jenkins dipped the tea bag into the hot water, squeezed it thoroughly and then dropped it neatly into the bin.

She sipped the tea, not meeting Lowri's eyes, her head bent over some documents on the desk beside her.

‘What made you come here to work?' Lowri changed tack. ‘I mean, aren't you a little overqualified for the job of receptionist?'

Mrs Jenkins put down her cup with great deliberation. ‘I am doing two jobs now that Miss White has taken off so whatever my reasons for being here, just be glad I am. Now if you will excuse me I have work to do.'

Lowri shook her head and returned to her office. She picked up her handbag and took her jacket from the hanger and slipped it over her shoulders. On her way out she paused for a moment, her eyes on Mrs Jenkins's bent head.

‘You will have three jobs to do today because I'm taking the rest of the day off.' Lowri did not wait for a reply. She sailed through reception and out of the door, stepping into the unexpected sunshine with a sigh of relief.

‘Well, Mr Watson, if the mountain won't come to Mohammed then Mohammed will have to go to the mountain.'