Tedd and Todd's secret (27 page)

"I don't look at it like that. We need two tables. We'd lose the view if we didn't have the second. Besides, I doubt that the owners are still bothered after seeing how generous I was with their employee. I don't know what your beef is."

"Who's coming here that we need this place and the whisky for?"

"Interesting observation. I confess I didn't give it much thought. You're a smart young bloke. I could compensate them as well if it would make you feel any better?"

Ethan gave up. It was clear that Dylan always saw money as the solution to everything. It wasn't his problem. And the truth was they were at a strategic point in the shopping centre where they could see everything. Their tables were facing the large central area in the middle of the immense conglomerate of shops and entertainment facilities. With one turn of the head they could see everything from where they were.

Ethan emptied his glass and looked at his watch. Then he continued to observe everything, trying to temper his impatience about having to wait so long.

"You know something?" the millionaire said casually. "I never liked Big Ben. I must be a bit strange. But since I got involved in all of this I can't walk past it without stopping and looking at it."

"Just the opposite happened to me," Ethan said, pleased at being different from Dylan. "I used to love that clock, but now I try to keep away from it as much as I can."

"Interesting. It just shows you how different we are. And I notice how much you like that. Tell me something that I'm dying to know. When you met Tedd and Todd did either of them look at you directly in the eyes?"

"No. They've never done that."

"And the time that you won, they were staring at you then, weren't they?"

"No. I've never seen them separated, nor looking at anyone, nor talking directly with anybody other than each other."

"I will always feel curiosity for your case," Dylan said. "You're a great person, somebody who everyone considers to be intelligent and good. I don't understand how you got involved in all of this. I'm human scum, but you?"

"Some people change," Ethan explained, his voice suddenly sad and nostalgic. "I wasn't always like this and it's clear that I wasn't as intelligent before, or we wouldn't be talking now. Everyone does something stupid. Because of that, I find it difficult to understand how you got into this. You're the only one who's in this voluntarily."

"It's really very simple," Dylan informed him. "Now I can smoke as much as I want without having to worry about the consequences. Don't you think that's incredible? Within a few years I'll be sitting in a beautiful wheelchair fighting against someone, but until then…"

"That is one of the things that really puts me off," Ethan snarled. "I'm sitting here trying to talk seriously with you, and you're talking crap."

"Come on, don't get angry. It was only a joke. Although, I'm afraid, it wasn't that far away from the truth." He paused. "Do you mind telling me why you are looking at your watch so often? You've mistaken the place, is that it?"

"It's possible. But it would surprise me," Ethan said, sweeping the shopping centre with his eyes. "And by the way, don't complain too much. You could also have looked at Big Ben and tried to work out where to go. Everything will finish tomorrow, so that means we need to see something now."

"Maybe that's the answer," Dylan said, waving his hand in the air. "Let the show start."

CHAPTER 19

Trevor Deemer knew that he would never understand it. In fact, he was sure that if he tried to he would go crazy. If a friend had told him something even vaguely similar, he would have made an appointment for him with a psychiatrist straight away.

He should have been on a beach in the Caribbean with his wife, enjoying the sun and the good life. But he wasn't there; he was on a motorbike, amazed at Helen's skill behind the wheel. They were travelling at top speed, Trevor holding on tight, his eyes closed. The speed wasn't softening the pain that he still felt about her leaving him in the church. Half a second more and it would have ended in a,
Yes, I do
. And her explanation was hard to believe, this business about always having to stay a Black. It made no sense at all. The other story about someone trying to kill her was just as hard to digest.

When she got on the motorbike after running out of her flat, he'd simply jumped on after her. He had no intention of letting her out of his sight this time. But it had shocked him, just the same, to see her break the safety chain attached to the bike as if it were nothing more than a piece of string.

And here they were now, speeding to God knows where, the bow appearing out of nowhere again. It was surprising that she'd let him come along. But she hadn't said anything then, and was still silent now. And there was nothing he could do to get her to stop and talk it over. She was hell-bent on getting to wherever she was heading as fast as possible. They'd crossed the city from one side to the other and they hadn't had one red light yet.

She finally brought the bike to a halt in front of a shopping centre, got off and raced inside, with Trevor not far behind her.

Unable to get the incredible episode in the gymnasium out of his mind, Aston Lowel entered the police station. He returned to his office and his assistant gave him some of the best news he'd had in a long while. In fact, the news was so good that he forgot the beautiful woman he'd just seen disappearing in a wheelchair.

He was delighted to find out about the case that had just fallen into his hands. They'd locked up a character that he'd bumped into in the past and who had been a thorn in his side ever since. It was the sort of thing that you never forgot. But a miracle had happened and the man in question had committed another crime and was here now, behind bars. It was one of those things that made being a lawyer worthwhile. Like he was being paid for taking revenge. It was great news. Perfect.

He went to the cells and told the duty guard not to let anyone else speak to the prisoner until he'd interrogated him. Then he made his way along the passageway to the interview room, smiling at the prospect of what was to come.

"Well, now, " he said once Aidan was seated in the chair across the table. "God rewards the patient. It was only a question of time before you broke the law again and fell into my hands."

"I have to agree with that, Aston," Aidan Zack said. "Getting the most incompetent lawyer in the city must be divine justice."

"You can't possibly imagine how much I've wanted to get my own back on you. And now my position demands that I charge you with attempted murder. You're lucky that your victim was rescued from the river."

"Enjoy yourself as much as you want, but keep away from me or I'll break another two of your teeth. One more charge for battery won't make any difference now."

Aston ran his tongue across his teeth. He remembered only too well what had happened the last time the two of them had met six months earlier. He'd turned up a lot of dirt on the detective then, and Aidan had finally snapped outside the courthouse. Everyone has their breaking point, but they didn't find Aidan's out until after the case was won.

"You're still a violent hardhead, it would seem. It's a cut and dried case, my wild friend. Husband tries to kill the man who killed his wife in an accident. I doubt that any jury would deliberate too long over that. I don't even see the need to bring in the crowd of witnesses."

"Congratulations, you'll win a case at last. It's a pity you didn't use as much energy six months ago and do your job properly."

"No one's going to believe a drunk suffering from depression with a tendency to violence. On top of that, you had insufficient proof."

"I did my job and pulled a dangerous criminal off the street. I risked my life. All you ever risk is your reputation. You should have helped to put that bastard in prison, but you didn't. And you're going to take pleasure from putting me in now. You've got the whole thing the wrong way round."

"Perhaps you're not aware of it, but you're a criminal in the eyes of British law. How else could you describe a person who has just done what you did?"

"Have you finished?"

"For now. We'll see each other again pretty soon. Get used to your cell," Aston said, as he walked away, smiling.

"If this isn't love, I don't know what is. I still can't believe that we've bought this enormous toilet. I hope you appreciate what I've done for you in coming here," Ann said, frowning at the terrible condition of the doorway to their new house.

"A bit of work and it'll scrub up OK," Colin said, walking past paint cans and brushes. "The work'll keep us from arguing all day long."

Ann gave him a playful slap on the neck and went back to the car for more of their suitcases while her husband continued on to the living room.

Since they'd left the estate agent's, they hadn't stopped arguing about their new home. Ann was still bitter about the whole deal. She couldn't believe how stubborn he'd been. Nor could she understand his obsession with buying this particular place. And now they were here, she realized it wasn't as bad as she'd first thought. But she wasn't going to let him know that.

She closed the front door angrily after bringing in the last suitcase and went to check if Colin was watching football. Fortunately, he wasn't. He was mixing paint with a broomstick. She told him she'd hang the clothes in the wardrobes, before preparing something to eat.

Half an hour later she came back into the living room carrying a couple of sandwiches on a tray and was struck dumb by what greeted her eyes.

"Do you mind telling me what you're doing?" she yelled. "Isn't there one thing that you can do well?"

"Now what's up? Another premenstrual attack?"

"You don't even realize what you've done," Ann said, putting the tray down. "If you'd paid a little attention to what we were talking about this wouldn't have happened."

Colin still hadn't caught on. "I don't know what you're talking about. Would you like to try and explain yourself without screaming hysterically?"

"It's all your fault, you fool. What colour did we say we were going to paint the room?"

"Salmon, because it's warm and doesn't tone the light down," he said, imitating his wife's voice.

"Exactly. And does that look like salmon to you?" she demanded.

Colin took his eye off her and looked at the wall. He looked at it from every angle for a while, and then turned back to his wife, shrugging his shoulders. "I haven't got the least idea. I know eight, maybe ten, colours. Red, blue, yellow… Salmon is the colour of a fish, isn't it?"

"You're an ass, and you always will be," she said, slapping him again. "All this has happened because you're not interested in anything other than football."

"You're not starting again, are you? Don't blame everything on football. I don't think there are too many men who know the difference between a pale orange rose and pale…"

Ann was about to use this sudden turn in the conversation to her advantage. She'd become an expert in domestic arguments since she'd been with Colin, but she had lost one already today and wasn't going to lose another.