Dangerous Deception (21 page)

“Carol phoned last night – I'd collected her from hospital and we drove up together. I hadn't planned to come, but her car was out of action and in any case she wasn't fit to drive; they'd wanted to keep her in another day.”

I felt him glance at me.

“But I was aware of you, if not your name, before that – since Friday, in fact, when I phoned Plas Dinas to speak to her, and was told she'd already left. I did wonder, later, who'd received my message, but I certainly never dreamed Morgan would think you were Goldilocks.

“I suppose, in true cloak-and-dagger fashion, I should have provided passwords, but it hadn't seemed necessary. Carol and Philip should have met at the Plas Dinas – where they could hardly have mistaken each other – and when they arrived together at Carreg Coed, it would have been clear who they were.”

The lights of a car coming towards us blossomed through the rain. I wondered, without hope, if I could do anything to attract their attention, but they passed with a swoosh and we were alone again in the rain-filled darkness. Bryn continued:

“But as soon as she arrived, it was clear something was wrong. First there was a note from Philip, telling her to act as though they didn't know each other, instead of as lovers as arranged. Then, later,” (in the television lounge, I thought) “he spun her some story about you receiving my letter and the brochure, and simply throwing them away.

“Well, you must admit that took a bit of swallowing – only natural for you to have shown
some
curiosity. So we guessed you'd found out too much, and because he knew you, he was trying to protect you.”

My worst fears were realised; by trying to save me, Philip had become suspect, and unless I could get help in the next few minutes, he'd have to take them all on single-handed.

“Morgan had obviously loused it up,” Bryn went on, “and Carol was set to tell him so at the first opportunity. But since you're here, as large as life, it seems she didn't get the chance.”

“Not until this evening,” I said.

“Ah. Well, we still weren't done with misunderstandings, because when I phoned to tell him this was D-Day, I asked if he'd sorted out ‘Goldilocks', and he said yes, but she'd been out all day. I thought he meant with Philip at the castle.”

“So why are you here?” I asked accusingly. “I thought you were supposed to keep out of it?”

“Well, my lovely, there've been enough hitches to make me decidedly edgy; I needed to satisfy myself that all was going well. Lucky I did, wouldn't you say?”

I doubt if he expected a reply. Surreptitiously I glanced in the wing mirror. The gold star-lights had dwindled in the distance, but they were still there, and since Bryn was trying to shake them off, they might well be a source of help.

“So what happened this evening?” he inquired with interest.

“Morgan took Philip and me to his room. Philip tried to say I didn't know anything, but he wouldn't believe him. Then Carol arrived.” I paused. “You know, Philip did honestly think I was Goldilocks at first.”

Bryn gave a snort of laughter. “Come on, Clare, you don't seriously expect me to believe that! Not when he knew you from home.”

“But it was three months since I'd seen him. Anything could have happened in that time, and I had all the code names pat.”

“I knew it! So much for Little Miss Innocence! Even so, I'd told him I was sending Carol.”

“No, what you said was ‘one of your girls'.”

“Did I now? And you come into that category?”

“Philip thought so.”

He glanced at me briefly. “You're in love with him, aren't you?”

I nodded.

“Then how come you haven't seen him for three months?”

I didn't reply.

“Ah, wait a minute, now. Three months – that would be the time he left the family business. Shock-horror all round. Ordered out of the house and – that's right – his engagement broken off. By you, I presume?” He shook his head in mock sorrow. “Total rejection all round – I must say I felt for him. Reckoned he could use a friendly face, so I made contact. We'd got on well before, and it seemed the least I could do.”

That surprised me. “You already knew each other?” I'd assumed Philip's connections with Bryn dated from after his fall from grace.

“Yes, we met a year or two ago, when he was on holiday here. Our stays overlapped at the Plas Dinas, and we spent a couple of days fishing together.”

Another car was rushing towards us, then it was past and vanishing in the distance. It struck me uneasily that we should have reached the motorway by now. Perhaps Bryn was avoiding it.

“We talked about our jobs, as you do,” he was continuing, “and I thought at the time that his contacts would have been useful. But that was as far as it got, because at that stage our Philip was an upright citizen, an insurance broker no less.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“Still, even the mighty can fall. So when the news broke – shady dealings, dishonest handling, the lot – I got in touch, not, I admit, altogether altruistically, and offered him a job. And as I'd hoped, it paid off.” His voice dropped to scarcely above a whisper. “Or did it?”

Icy little needles pricked my spine. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Clare
bach
, that despite all the checks we carried out, I was never entirely sure of him. Which is why I went to such lengths to cover my tracks and confuse the issue with pseudonyms – though God knows, I finished by confusing the whole lot of us.”

At all costs he mustn't be allowed to doubt Philip – not now. I said sharply, “He's retrieving your precious paintings for you – isn't that proof enough?”

“Not necessarily. You see, the shipment was arranged for tonight all along; telling everyone it was tomorrow was the final safeguard. But if it
had
been, what's the betting the boys in blue would have been waiting for us?”

They might well have been, I thought.

“Am I right?” he prompted.

“Of course you're not right; Philip's in it up to his neck, as you well know.”

“Then,” Bryn continued, as though I hadn't spoken, “when it was suddenly brought forward, he told you to run for help. Didn't he?”

The last two words shot out, making me jump. “No,” I denied quickly, “that was entirely my own idea.”

“You'd have betrayed him to the police, when you say you love him?”

“He doesn't want anything to do with me, he made that plain enough. He told me to – keep out of his way.” That, at least, was true, and my voice broke most convincingly.

“And hell hath no fury?”

I said in a whisper, “What will you do with me?”

“I've been wondering. You've caused me endless trouble, you know. Just think – if you hadn't appeared on the scene, Carol would have received my message – even if belatedly, Philip would have had hers, Morgan would have contacted them both, and all would have gone according to plan. Instead of which, thanks to you, there's been an unholy mix-up. You agree I have a point?”

“I'm sorry,” I said ridiculously.

“No matter, we shall prevail, given a bit of luck. As to you, well, the obvious solution would be an accident.”

“Like Dick Harvey?” I asked out of a dry throat.

“The archaeologist? Yes, that was unfortunate – especially for him – but in the circumstances, Morgan had no choice. You had your suspicions, did you? I knew you were too sharp for your own good.”

Morgan. I remembered the notes which had arrived so opportunely and prevented him from going walking with me.

I said numbly, “But why was Dick found at Pen-y-Coed?”

“To divert attention from the castle, of course. Morgan guessed that was where he was headed and, by a few devious short cuts, managed to get ahead of him on the road.

“He then stopped and flagged Harvey down as he approached – pretending to be surprised it was him. Told him he was on his way to Pen-y-Coed to meet someone, but had developed a flat tyre. Harvey offered to run him over.”

I said tightly, “Which kindness Morgan repaid by pushing him off the cliff. After which, I suppose, he jogged back to where he'd left his car and returned to the hotel.”

“Precisely.”

It hadn't been much of a risk, setting straight off after Dick, because I'd gone into the dining-room, and I was the only one who knew he was supposed to be working. He couldn't have been long back when he knocked on my door and invited me for a drink. How gullible I'd been.

Another swift glance. “Look, it was hellish bad luck, the guy turning up at this juncture and jeopardising everything. In Morgan's defence, he was quite shaken when he phoned to report it. Said he'd rather liked the fellow.”

“He'd recovered himself by lunch-time.”

Bryn brushed that aside. “Anyway, we were talking about you. You've got spunk, Clare Laurie, I'll say that for you, and spunk is something I admire.”

I was still thinking of poor, kind Dick and his violent end, but a quality in Bryn's soft voice reclaimed my attention.

“Added to which,” he went on, “I've always had a weakness for pretty girls, and you are pretty, aren't you? I could tell that by the light of the headlamps, even when you were scared out of your wits.”

I moistened parched lips. “So?”

“So I offer you an alternative. More than you deserve, perhaps, but it seems such a waste to kill you.”

“And – what is the alternative?”

He was silent for a moment, and I turned to look at him. His mouth was twisted into a smile, as though at some secret joke.

“Marry me,” he said.

“
Marry
you?” My voice squeaked on a note of incredulity.

“It's not such a ludicrous idea, you know. You'd be a valuable asset as a wife; your respectability would silence any whispers, and your uncle, as you'll appreciate, would be a powerful ally. A charming man, I thought.” He smiled again, and even in this headlong flight, with all our futures dependent on the next half-hour, his voice took on a caressing note.

“Added to which,
cariad
, I should very much enjoy making love to you.”

He was mad – he must be! I closed my eyes on a wave of panic, but his next words proved there was, after all, method in that madness.

“There's also, of course, the small point about a wife's evidence being inadmissible. On the down side, Carol wouldn't be too chuffed, but I'm sure we could accommodate her.

“So – the choice is yours. It's a funny thing, you know: up to now, I've always been on the receiving end of proposals. This is the first I've made myself.”

“Thank you,” I said, since it seemed expected of me. In the mirror there was no longer any sign of the following car. Bryn's foot was hard down and we continued to rush along like the night wind itself. I presumed we were heading for Swansea, though I'd seen no signposts; he obviously knew the way blindfold. The road was narrower now, and I hoped fearfully that we wouldn't meet any oncoming traffic.

“Do I take it that's an acceptance?”

“I have no choice.”

“On the contrary, as I explained.”

But the alternatives were equally unreal – Bryn's wife, or a swift push off a cliff. Quite literally, the devil or the deep.

We flashed through the single street of a village. There were lights in the windows, and I realised with a sense of shock that it must still be only about eleven. Twelve hours ago, I'd been reading by the brook.

The ship sailed, Morgan had said, at midnight. They couldn't be far behind. And what of the car in which I'd pinned so much hope? Just a family returning late, who had turned into their own drive?

Bryn jammed on the brakes and my seatbelt jerked me backwards, ricking my neck and knocking the breath out of me.

“Bloody hell!” He swerved up on to the grass bordering the road and skidded to a halt.

“What is it?” I asked, when I could speak.

“They're ahead of us – didn't you just see their lights go out? I never dreamed they'd use the short cut on a night like this. Quickly, get out!”

He switched off our own lights and leapt round the car, dragging me out into the wet darkness. My wrenched ankle buckled under me and I gave a cry, which Bryn ignored.

“I was counting on him thinking I'd make for the motorway,” he said, his mouth close to my ear so I could hear above the noise of the elements. “Now, not only has he cut us off, but if Morgan and Carol come this way – or anyone else, for that matter – they'll run straight into him. We'll have to shift him somehow.”

He pushed me ahead of him, and we started to run, heads bent, into the wind, cutting across a field so that, as we rounded the corner, we wouldn't be spotted by the reception party awaiting us.

“He'll be out of the car, watching for us. I've a gun here, and if you make a run for it or try to warn him, I promise you I shall use it – on both of you.”

I did not doubt him. Shivering in the cold after the humid car, I limped along beside him till he came to a halt, putting out an arm to stop me.

“Down there, look! Two of them, dammit!”

I peered down the slight incline to the road. Sure enough, behind the parked car two figures crouched tensely, one on either side. Bryn said, “Think you can hit one of them?”

I stared at him in horror, numbly shaking my head.

“Well, remember what I said about any warning. If I can creep up on them I'll knock them out, but if they spot me, I'll have to shoot them.”

His words were so much a part of this horrific night that they came as no shock. It seemed, after all, quite logical. Stealthily, we circled the unsuspecting figures. Then Bryn gave my arm a last, warning squeeze and crept forward with the reversed gun in his hand.

Praying, for their sakes, that they wouldn't hear him, I moved silently after him. The first figure fell without a sound and he inched to the far side of the car out of my sight. The noise of the wind was in his favour. A moment later I heard him call softly, “Give me a hand to drag them clear. They'll be out for quite a while, by the look of them.”