“I just wanna talk to you, Linda. Can you understand me? Linda?”

  Linda started to run, but her dress, now torn and flapping round her ankles, got caught under her feet. She felt herself losing her balance. She flung an arm out to steady herself, dropping the almost empty money bag, then the world seemed to spin in front of her eyes, there was an almighty splash and she was underwater. Coughing and spluttering, she rose to the surface, her dress outspread around her. Thrashing the water desperately with her arms, she found the breath to scream: “Stay away from me! Stay away from me!” before going under again.

  Harry shoved the chair out of his way and knelt down at the edge of the pool.

  Linda bobbed up again, gasping for air. “I can’t . . . swim . . . I . . . can’t . . .” she spluttered in between heaving gasps.

  “Give me your hand!” Harry shouted, but one hand was still holding on tightly to what was left of the money, while the other flailed desperately round in the water. “Give me your hand, for Chrissake!”

  Harry leaned as far as he could over the pool, hand outstretched. She went under again, her dress weighing her down, and he made one last grab, catching hold of her hair. Now she was scratching at his wrist, screaming, screeching over and over again: “No! No! Leave me alone!”

  He pulled as hard as he could, her head crashing against the side of the pool, but her hair slipped out of his grip.

  Linda went under again, a stream of blood from her nose clouding the water. She’d finally let go of the money, and Harry reached for her hand and managed to pull her toward him, then got hold of her hair again. Holding her head out of the water against the side of the pool, he leaned down and put his mouth to her ear.

  “Where’s Dolly, Linda? Understand me? Where’s Dolly?”

  Linda couldn’t hear, couldn’t think. Her vision was blurred and her throat was raw.

  “Listen to me, you stupid bitch: where’s Dolly?”

  Linda tried to say something but all that came out was a strangled croak.

  Suddenly she felt him pressing her head down, under the water. Desperate for air, she tried to take a breath and water started filling her lungs. Her vision went black, she felt herself drifting away—and then her head was yanked out of the water again.

  “Just tell me where the fuck Dolly is, you stupid bitch!” She felt her head crash against the concrete again.

  Tony had seen enough. He scooped up a few last notes and got into the taxi. He started to do a U-turn, then saw the headlights of a car approaching the villa. He shouted out of the window to Harry, but there was so much screaming he doubted that he could hear. He glanced back down the drive as the headlights came closer.

  In the back seat of the Rolls-Royce, José squeezed Bella’s hand. “She’ll be all right.”

  “I know, I’m sorry, but I worry about her, I always worry about her. She was drunk, and I shouldn’t have let her go back by herself.”

  He slipped his arm round her back. “It’s OK, it’s OK, we’ll make sure that she is all right.”

  Bella looked into his face. “Thank you.”

  He pulled her closer and started to kiss her. Bella pulled free, touched the side of his face and whispered, “I love you. You’re the only man in my life I’ve ever loved.”

  As he bent to kiss her again, the Rolls-Royce veered to the right with a screech of brakes, almost throwing them out of their seats. The taxicab screamed past them, engine roaring, as the Rolls-Royce came to a halt inches from the gatepost. Bella didn’t wait for the chauffeur to open the door for her—she was out of the car in a flash and running up the driveway, her high heels in her hand.

  She stopped short for a brief moment, gasping in shock as she came face to face with Harry Rawlins—and then he was gone, diving into the bushes.

  José came up behind her. “What in hell is going on?”

  She grabbed his arm. “For God’s sake, get to the house, see if she’s all right!”

  Despite the encumbrance of her dress, Bella was running like a wild thing and got to the house first. Shouting over her shoulder for José to switch on the ground lights, she opened the door and ran up the stairs, into Linda’s bedroom, all the while calling her name at the top of her lungs.

  José found the light switch and instantly the grounds were flooded with pale green light.

  Bella opened the windows on to the balcony and stepped out. “Linda! Where are you?” She leaned over the balcony to call down to José when she saw her. It was the red dress, billowing round Linda as she floated in the pool.

  Bella screamed, pointed frantically, and ran back into the house.

  Mr. Jarrow ushered Dolly out of his consulting room and signaled to his receptionist.

  “Well, I look forward to seeing you next week, Mrs. Rawlins.” He patted her arm reassuringly. “Are you quite sure you’re feeling all right?”

  Dolly smiled. “Not now, but I will be, after the operation.”

  “I’m sure you will, Mrs. Rawlins. Thank you for coming in. There are just a few final details my receptionist can deal with.” Dolly dismissed, he went back to his desk and opened another file, readying himself for his next patient.

  The receptionist smiled at Dolly. “Just one last thing, Mrs. Rawlins: how will you be paying? Check? Banker’s card?”

  Dolly snapped her bag shut. “Cash. I’ll be paying in cash.”

  She walked out on to Harley Street, got into her car and drove off. She arrived just ahead of the estate agent, checked her watch and looked at herself in the driving mirror. She pulled the skin a little tighter under her eyes and underneath her neck, and couldn’t help but give herself a secret smile. She was still smiling when the estate agent tapped on the window.

  “Mrs. Marsh?”

  Dolly almost jumped out of her skin. “Yes?”

  “Ah, I’m the estate agent. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “Oh, that’s all right.”

  The flat had one bedroom, a kitchen, bathroom and lounge. It had the unmistakable smell of a rented place, a smell of carpet that had been washed very quickly after the last tenant had left. Dolly hated it. But it would serve its purpose.

  The estate agent, in his shiny suit, carried in Dolly’s last case with a grunt, obviously a little miffed at being asked to help with her luggage. He handed Dolly the keys and took out his folder with all the details. The phone, gas and electricity had all been connected.

  He turned toward her with a smirk. “Just a question of, um, the financial arrangements now, Mrs. Marsh.”

  Dolly loathed these weaselly little men. “Would you just take the large case through to the bedroom for me, please?”

  His smirk died. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Marsh.” Staggering under the weight of the large suitcase, he dragged it into the seedy bedroom. Dolly picked up the smaller case, placed it on the sofa and took out a set of keys. She checked that the estate agent was still busy with the case, then opened the lid. The money was still wrapped in the bank’s plastic bags. She took one out, shut the case, locked it and put it back on the floor. Going to the table, she sat down and very slowly began counting out the money. The estate agent came out of the bedroom.

  “As I was saying, Mrs. Marsh—”

  “Will there be any reduction if I give you cash?”

  “Er . . . er . . . no, I’m afraid not,” he stuttered. “It’s a flat rate, Mrs. Marsh. I, er, I have no bargaining power at all.”

  “I see. Well, there’s six months’ rent in advance.”

  He didn’t know whether to sit and count it, glancing at his papers, then back at Dolly, and finally decided against it.

  “I would like a receipt, if that’s possible?” she said with a smile.

  “Yes, of course, Mrs. Marsh. I’ll do that right away.”

  “Thank you very much. You’ve been most helpful.”

  “Oh, think nothing of it, Mrs. Marsh.”

  Dolly slipped a £10 note into his top pocket, and suddenly he couldn’t do enough for her.

  “If you have any problems whatsoever, Mrs. Marsh, you just contact me. Ask for me personally—Mr. Fish.”

  “Yes, I will,” Dolly said, almost shutting the door in his face. And then she was alone. Alone in this awful flat.

  She took a carton of milk, a jar of instant coffee and a packet of biscuits out of her shopping bag and into the kitchen. It had the same sparse, unloved feeling. She put the milk in the fridge, picked up the kettle, and then put it down again. She felt her hands—the handle of the kettle was greasy. Looking in the cupboard, the cups were chipped, and one of the saucers still had an old ring from the last occupant’s tea.

  Dolly ran the water in the sink. Even the bowl was grimy. She turned the tap off and stood for a moment. She thought of her home, her beautiful house, where everything had been so immaculate, so perfect.

  She went back to her shopping bag and took out Fairy Liquid, Vim and a pair of rubber gloves. She brought them to the kitchen and turned the tap back on.

  Well, if she was going to live here, she’d damned well make sure it was clean.

  José had been the one to haul Linda’s body out of the water. Bella had been worse than useless, weeping hysterically and asking Linda to forgive her. It was only José’s calmness and quick thinking that had saved Linda’s life. He turned her over, let the water empty out of her lungs, then gave her the kiss of life. It was José who carried her into the lounge, who somehow found the bandages and cleaned up her face. Knowing that the ambulance was on its way, he helped Bella undress Linda, wrapped a blanket round her and gave her brandy. As he fed her carefully with a teaspoon, her eyes opened and she stared into his face.

  He smiled. “You all right, Leenda? Everything’s going to be OK, Leenda . . .”

  It was the “Leenda, Leenda . . .” that brought it all back, the taxi driver smiling as he walked toward her up the stairs. She started to scream.

  José stepped away. “She’s in shock. You take care of her, Bella. I’ll go and change.” As he was leaving the lounge, he turned back to Bella. “Did you call the ambulance? The doctor?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.”

  “And the police? Are you going to call the police?”

  Bella shook her head. “No, no police. I don’t want the police.”

  “But you must call the police! The place has obviously been burgled. Leenda almost died!”

  “I said no police.”

  He was puzzled. He’d never heard her speak in that firm tone of voice before.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he said and walked out.

  Bella bent over Linda, held her hand and kissed her. “Linda, it’s Bella. You’re all right. Linda, it’s Bella!”

  Linda was crying, without making a sound, just tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “It’s all right, baby, it’s Bella.”

  Linda slowly turned her head, opened her eyes and gripped Bella’s hand hard. Bella could have wept herself—Linda’s face was such a mess. She wasn’t sure whether her nose was broken, but her eye was cut and bruised, her cheek and lips swollen. Bella just wanted to hold her, she seemed so fragile.

  “Bella, oh God, Bella . . . it was him.”

  Bella looked at the door. “I know,” she whispered. “I know. But it’s all right.”

  Linda turned away, closing her eyes again. “He wanted Dolly,” she murmured, barely audible. “He wanted Dolly.”

  Bella gripped her hand tightly. “Don’t talk, Linda, don’t talk. The doctor’s coming, and everything’s gonna be all right. Just lie quiet, please, baby.”

  A shudder seemed to run through Linda’s body and into Bella’s. Her eyes jerked open and she clawed at Bella’s arm.

  “I told him, Bella,” she croaked, her eyes wide with terror. “Oh, God help me, I told him.”

  Bella couldn’t make out what she was saying. She bent closer. “What? What did you say?”

  Linda choked, started to cough again, and Bella reached for the bowl, thinking she was going to vomit, but Linda shook her head.

  “Bella, I’ve told him . . .”

  A cold feeling moved up Bella’s spine. “Told him what? What have you said, Linda?”

  “The money—I told him where it is, in England . . . the convent.”

  Bella took a deep breath, trying to keep calm, but she could feel the panic rising. “Did you tell him where Dolly was, Linda? Do you hear me, Linda? Did you tell him where Dolly was?”

  Linda looked up into Bella’s face. Bella had never seen an expression of such anguish. Time seemed to stretch out as she waited for Linda to speak. Then finally she managed a single word.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Two

  José Camarana’s ranch was just as Bella had described it: fantastic. Linda was in one of the guest bedrooms—very tasteful, with antique furniture—lying in a large double bed with a massive carved headboard, the drapes on the bed matching the curtains and the ice-blue carpet. Outside the window was the stable yard.

  Sighing, she pushed away the large tray with the embroidered napkin and the lace-trimmed tray cloth. The perfectly scrambled eggs, toast and coffee turned her stomach. She picked up a hand mirror and stared at her face. She looked like a prizefighter after a particularly bruising bout. The stitches across her face were clean, but still crusted. Her right eye was all the colors of the rainbow, and her lips were still swollen. She put the mirror down and lay back.

  Since she’d been at José’s ranch, all she could think of was that she’d told Harry Rawlins where the money was. She’d betrayed them all. She wasn’t that concerned about Dolly; it was just the fact that she had told him. She knew if she hadn’t told him he’d have killed her, but that didn’t make her feel any less guilty.

  She’d told him.

  She heard the clatter of horse’s hooves outside. Slipping back the covers, she got out of bed and pulled the curtains aside. José Camarana, riding a black stallion, clattered into the yard. He wore a pale lemon cashmere sweater, riding jodhpurs and shiny brown boots. He really was one of the most handsome men Linda had ever seen and she couldn’t help but stare at him. He got off the horse and flipped the reins to a boy already running from the stables. Then her heart jumped. Following behind him through the stable yard gates was a police car. A police officer with an awful lot of gold stripes on his uniform got out and started chatting with José in a friendly manner. They laughed together with their backs to Linda’s window, then José turned, pointing in Linda’s direction up to the window, and indicated that they should enter the house.

  As Linda darted back from the window, Bella walked in.

  “Look, I’ve got ’em, two tickets—”

  Linda motioned for her to be quiet and come to the window. Bella looked down in to the yard.

  “It’s the police, Bella! What do you think they want?”

  Bella shrugged. “I don’t know, Linda.” She went back to her bag that she’d left on the dressing table. “I’ve got two open tickets—we can go as soon as you’re fit.” Seeing the tray, she sighed. “You’ve not touched your food again, Linda.”

  Linda still stood at the window. “I’m not hungry.” She was twisting her hands round each other.

  Bella was beginning to get irritated. The last five days hadn’t exactly been easy. Doctors had come and gone, and a nurse had been in attendance for two days, at José’s insistence, but he couldn’t understand why they wanted no police involvement. Their villa, after all, had been broken into, and Linda had very nearly been killed. But Bella had eventually convinced him that the best way to deal with the trauma was to try and forget all about it. Linda was in one piece, and that was all that mattered. They had collected all their belongings from the villa and returned to the ranch, and that was that.

  “Do you think José’s telling them something? I mean, what are we going to do, Bella?”

  “What would he be telling them, Linda?”

  Linda looked pensive. “Well . . . he has been asking questions, Bella.”

  Bella stiffened. “What d’you mean? What sort of questions? Has he been asking about me?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Linda said quickly. “About the taxi driver . . . He wants to know what happened that night!”

  Suddenly Bella seemed close to tears. “I don’t want to lose him, Linda. I’ve never met anybody like him, and I love him.”

  Linda could feel her own tears welling up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Bella.” Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Do you think Dolly’s got the cable by now?”

  Bella zipped up her bag. “I don’t know.”

  “Did you send a cable to Shirley?”

  “Yes, I sent a cable to Shirley.”

  Bella just wanted to be out of the room now. Linda’s nerves and constant questions—it was all getting too much.

  As she opened the door, Linda said, “Do you think Dolly would have been able to get to our money, Bella?”

  “I don’t know, Linda. You keep asking me and I keep telling you: I don’t know. All I do know is I sent a cable to the clinic where I think Dolly may be.”

  “But did you send one to the house as well?”

  Bella was ready to blow her top. “Linda, I don’t know whether Dolly is at the house. She was going to sell the house. Which is why I sent a cable to the clinic. And before you ask, I’ve sent one to Shirley in Los Angeles at the hotel she was going to stay at, but I don’t know if they’ve got them!”

  Linda started to cry, the tears streaming down her face. “Maybe we’re . . . all right . . . Maybe Rawlins is . . . still in Rio.”

  “And maybe he isn’t. For gawd’s sake, stop crying.”

  Linda sniffed. “I can’t help it. It’s all my fault. I told him the money’s at the convent. I’m ruining everything!” She stopped suddenly in mid-flow. “Do you think Dolly will be all right, Bella?”

  “Well,” said Bella nastily, “we just have to hope to God he hasn’t got to her, don’t we? If he did that to you, just think what he’d do to Dolly.”

  A knock on the door, and they both froze.

  “It’s José,” came a voice from the corridor. “May I come in?”