Читать книгу The Armageddon Game - Lynne Fox - Страница 12

CHAPTER 6

Bournemouth shopping centre, even on this cold uncharitable day, seemed to thrum with people, so many more than the relative quiet of Endover. I pulled my jacket closer about me as I silently determined that my first purchase would be a warm coat, scarf and gloves. I also needed to buy a suitcase to put it all in so that I could arrive back at the B & B looking as though I’d just retrieved it from the railway station property office.

Once I’d deposited my cash into a safe deposit box facility at the bank I headed for the shops, spending all of the four hundred pounds I’d set aside. It was annoying having to spend so much when I had perfectly good clothes in storage back in Endover, there being no need for a fashion wardrobe in St Joseph’s, but I considered it a fair price for my freedom.

Making the suitcase my final item I piled all my carrier bags into it and, suddenly realising how hungry I was, found a charming little Italian restaurant.

I chose a table deep inside so I could sit with my back against the wall and peruse the whole area, my suitcase tucked out of the way by my side. I ordered a lasagne and salad with a large glass of Chablis to wash it down. As I sipped my wine and waited for my meal to be served I contemplated the other diners. There was quite a mix; a family of four tucking into their meals with enthusiasm despite all being grossly overweight, obviously not something that concerned them. There were three tables that looked like the proverbial ‘ladies that lunch’ set and a couple of men in suits dining out on expenses. There may have been a few holidaymakers but it was hard to tell when everyone was so wrapped up against the cold. Over by the window were a couple of tables occupied by some of Bournemouth’s many retirees. All in all, quite an eclectic mix and one in which I should be able to disappear with ease.

My meal arrived and I ordered another large glass of wine reasoning that this was something of a celebration albeit a solitary one. Concentrating on eating I didn’t notice the new arrival until, almost finished, I paused to glance around the restaurant once more. The shock I felt at sight of the person just taking his seat at a table four rows down from me was so intense I thought for a dreadful moment that I might faint. I screwed my eyes tight shut, opened them again, praying that I was mistaken; that he was simply a lookalike. It was no good; I’d never forget that handsome face. The five or six years since I’d last seen him had done him no disservice; if anything he had improved with maturity. Still tall and powerfully built his strong jawline was now defined by a close cut beard that emphasised chiselled features. The subdued lighting in the restaurant made it impossible for me to see his eyes but if they’d retained their thick lashes and dark depths I could imagine the whole package was mesmerising. ‘My God, Barry Mason’.

I shuffled further back in my seat, trusting to the ambient lighting to shield me, and let my mind drift back over the years. Barry had been one of my students during my time at Endover College. He was nineteen then, with an assured cockiness and belief in his sexual magnetism – not exactly misplaced in my opinion. I’d played him like a puppet; manipulating him into a relationship with Inspector Munroe’s daughter, Lily. It hadn’t lasted; I’d managed to generate too much bad feeling on all sides for that but it had served its purpose in that it had got under Munroe’s skin like poison ivy. Weaving a web that had trapped Barry and Lily it enabled me to punish Munroe for his part in my brother’s death. It was a game I’d enjoyed and I knew its sticky threads still clung to Munroe, Lily’s death ensured that.

None of my musing however solved my current dilemma – what the hell was Barry Mason doing in Bournemouth? The last I’d heard was that he’d returned to his roots in Sheffield to work at an animal sanctuary. The problem was I didn’t know how much, if anything, Barry knew of my involvement in his past problems and Lily’s death. Despite the unlikelihood of his having maintained any connection with the Munroe family I couldn’t risk him discovering me.

As silently as I could I rose and made my way to the ladies cloakroom. Once there I donned my outdoor clothes and replaced my hat being careful to position it low so that the brim covered part of my face. As I left the ladies I look around for another exit but having no choice other than to walk through the restaurant to get out I hastened to take a route as far away from Barry’s table as possible.

I was just approaching the row at which he was sitting when my wheeled suitcase caught on an empty chair sending it crashing to the ground in a crescendo of metallic clatter. It seemed that everyone in the restaurant gasped in surprise and before I could make my escape Barry had risen from his seat and was picking up and replacing the offending chair. I gave a muffled ‘Thank you’ and keeping my face averted scurried out the door almost managing, in my haste, to hook the suitcase around that as well. With Barry’s eyes following my steps I dodged the traffic and hurried toward the seafront and the sanctuary of my B & B.

‘I see you’ve collected your luggage.’ The landlady sat behind her desk, a newspaper spread out in front of her. ‘I hope it isn’t too heavy, it’s a decent walk from the station.’

I gave her a slightly quizzical look.

‘I didn’t see a taxi pull up,’ she explained.

‘Oh, right. No, it isn’t too heavy.’ I headed toward the stairs as she returned to her newspaper.

‘It’s terrible that M25 isn’t it?’

‘I beg your pardon.’

She pointed at a photograph on an inside page. ‘Just terrible; another young life ruined I expect and there was him probably looking forward to his holiday.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, it stands to reason doesn’t it; he was heading towards Heathrow apparently.’ She sighed and closed the paper, getting up from the desk. ‘Better start thinking about getting myself some tea.’

I hesitated for a second debating with myself whether I was just being silly and then decided that I wouldn’t rest until I knew. ‘Mm, have you finished with the paper?’

‘Yes, why, would you like it?’

‘If you don’t mind; I enjoy doing the crosswords,’ I said by way of explanation.

‘Be my guest.’ She folded it in half and handed it to me.

I tucked it under my arm and continued up the stairs. Once in my room I propped the suitcase against the wall and immediately extracted Liliad from the wardrobe. Sitting her beside me on the bed I opened the paper, scanning the pages for the article the landlady had been reading.

‘Oh, my God!’ I found the item on page four. It barely took up two column inches but the photograph was enough. Alberto’s car, I was sure it was his as I could clearly see the image of the Venezuelan flag he’d had painted on the driver door, lay on its roof; a badly crumpled van alongside it.

It was clear from the text that the landlady had merely looked at the photograph of battered vehicles and not read the article which stated that the driver had been identified from his driving licence and was the young man involved in the recent disappearance of a patient from the St Joseph’s Psychiatric Hospital in Endover. From an airline ticket found in his belongings it appeared that he was planning to flee the country.

I turned to Liliad. ‘It says here that he’s in a critical condition; a fifty-fifty chance of pulling through. Damn! Why couldn’t he have just died?’

Liliad’s eyelids drooped so that she was observing me through narrowed slits, her nose wrinkling slightly giving her the appearance of an Oriental cat.

‘Why couldn’t he have just got on that plane; it was all he had to do.’ I couldn’t keep the exasperation out of my tone. ‘After all, we don’t want him getting well enough to talk, do we?’

Liliad shrugged her shoulders, making me consider further.

‘Well, I suppose there isn’t much he can say that would be damaging. They’ve probably already worked out what happened, the sequence of events and he’d no idea where we were headed; I’d made sure of that. Hopefully they’ve picked me up on King’s Cross Station CCTV and believe I’m still in London.’