‘I got the message.’
‘Where are you calling from, Richard? The connection is very poor.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Usually your bank lines are so clear.’
‘I’m not calling from the bank.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, I have some information for you.’
Richard closed his eyes. ‘Just forget it, Phillipe.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Forget I ever asked you about that account. I don’t need to know anymore.’
‘Are you sure, Richard?’ Gaillaird asked. ‘I have the name right here.’
‘Positive.’
Phillipe paused. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. Just leave it alone.’
The Swiss banker’s voice grew serious. ‘You’re calling from a pay phone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Listen, Richard, I’ve been working for Swiss banks all my life. I don’t know what’s going on over there, but I have my suspicions. Someone has got to you. That’s okay. Don’t confirm or deny it. It’s none of my business and I don’t want to know. But let me give you a piece of advice. You’re at a phone booth. No one is going to know what is being said. You might as well find out who has the money from the Baskin account. If you never use the information, no one will be the wiser. If the tables turn, knowing the truth may save your hide.’
Richard’s hand gripped the receiver tightly. His eyes darted madly. What Phillipe said made sense. ‘Okay. Give me the name. But after this call, I don’t think we should talk again.’
‘I understand,’ Phillipe said.
Laura handed the Australian official her quarantine form, located her luggage, and made her way through customs. She started to drag her suitcase toward the taxi stand when a large hand reached out and picked it up.
‘Sheriff Rowe,’ Laura exclaimed, ‘this is a pleasant surprise.’
Graham smiled through his beard. He lifted the suitcase as if it were a candy bar. ‘You called me, didn’t ya?’
‘Yes of course, but I didn’t expect you to pick me up.’
The mammoth sheriff shrugged and began to lead her toward his squad car. Laura noticed that everyone around her was wearing shorts. The heat was oppressive, even by the normal standards of tropical Cairns. But then Laura saw the beauty of the place: the bright sun, the trees that looked as if they had been freshly painted green, the pure blue ocean, the golden-sanded beach. Memories rolled over her heavily.
‘Slow day,’ Graham explained. ‘I had a choice of picking up a lovely young lady, or issuing fishing licenses to a bunch of hicks with no teeth. It wasn’t an easy choice, mind you. The missus preferred I stay with the hicks.’ He smiled again. ‘She’s seen your picture in the magazines.’
Laura returned the smile. ‘Thank you for coming.’
He put her suitcase in the trunk and opened the passenger door. ‘Where are you staying, Mrs Baskin?’
‘Laura,’ she corrected. ‘I’m staying at the Pacific International, Sheriff.’
‘Graham,’ he corrected back. ‘Now, Laura, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?’
During their time off, most models cannot wait to trade in their exotic work wardrobe for a comfortable ripped pair of jeans and tattered sweatshirt. Serita was not one of them. She liked designer clothes – the more outlandish, the better. Right now, she was buttoning up a skin-tight white jumpsuit. When it came to clothes, white was her favorite. She liked the way it contrasted with her ebony skin tone, and judging by the reaction of most people who saw her, her preference was also theirs. On some women, Serita’a outfit might draw a few interested glances; on Serita, it drew mouth-dropping gapes.
And, of course, she loved that.
I should go into acting, Serita thought with a smile. I’m a big enough ham for it.
So she liked being noticed – what was wrong with that? The way the media played up her outgoing personality you’d have thought she started wars in the Middle East. Yes, she was brash, but so what? She never hurt anybody. She never bothered anybody. She was having fun and if they had a problem with that, if they were pissed off because she didn’t want to be quiet and subdued and pristine and boring, then fuck them.
She grabbed her purse and headed toward the door. Laura. Her headstrong friend. What the hell was she doing running halfway around the world? Laura could be so goddamn stubborn sometimes. She was searching, investigating, but for what? The truth? What good could that do? Suppose there had been some foul play. Suppose David’s death was not accidental. Would that really change things? Would that make Laura’s bed warm or bring David back to life? Would that make the agony searing through Laura somehow let up?
No.
Serita knew that Laura would not stop searching until she was satisfied that she knew all the answers. And Laura was not easily satisfied. And, more to the point, this had become an almost welcome distraction for Laura, a way of diverting herself from the pain of reality. But the reality was still there. The reality would come back with a vengeance. When all this was over, David would still be dead…
… and if the drowning was not an accident, so might Laura.
Serita had visited the Heritage of Boston Bank earlier this morning. Corsel was nowhere to be found. Now she was heading for a four o’clock shoot by Quincy Market for a jeans company. She grabbed her coat off the hook, reached for the knob and opened the door.
‘Hi, Serita.’
Serita jumped back, startled. ‘T.C., you scared the hell out of me.’
‘Sorry,’ T.C. said. ‘I guess I should have called first.’
‘That’s okay,’ Serita replied. ‘Something I can do for you?’
T.C. bit off the end of his cigar. He put the Dutch Masters in his mouth but did not light it right away. ‘I was looking for Laura. Do you know where she is?’
Serita shrugged. ‘She’s not at Svengali?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘I spoke to her secretary… what’s her name again?’
‘Estelle.’
‘Right, Estelle. I spoke to Estelle. She told me Laura is out of the city for a few days. She said Laura is on some kind of sales trip.’
‘And she didn’t tell you where?’
‘She claims she didn’t know. Maybe Canada. She said it was a big fashion secret or something.’ T.C. took out his lighter and flicked it on. He placed it on the end of the cigar. The flame rose and fell in rhythm to his puffing for a few moments until the end of the cigar lit. ‘I was hoping you could tell me where she went. I’m worried about her, Serita.’
‘Worried? Why?’
T.C. took a deep breath. ‘You know how you told me she’s suspicious about David’s death being a simple accident?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And how she even thought that I suspected the same thing?’
‘Right.’
‘Well,’ T.C. said, ‘she was right. I do suspect the same thing.’
Serita’s eyes widened. ‘You mean – ’
‘I mean that there is a very good chance that David’s drowning was not accidental.’
Serita felt her body spasm. She moved back into the house and beckoned T.C. to follow. He closed the door and they both sat down. ‘He was murdered?’
‘May have been murdered,’ T.C. corrected, ‘or something else. We’re talking theory here, remember?’
‘What do you think happened?’
He scratched his neck and then looked forward. ‘I don’t know exactly. It could be that a few bad boys discovered they could get their hands on David’s loot by knocking him off.’
‘Do you have any idea who?’
‘None. But whoever it was is well-connected and powerful. No amateur could pull this off. We’re talking about some very nasty people here, people who wouldn’t mind killing somebody who snoops around in their business. That’s why I want to find Laura.’
‘You think she’s in danger?’