Aleksey rested his chin on his hands and watched her extricate her kitten from Radulf’s basket, where it was curled up against his shaggy belly, and then move from the illumination of the house to merge into the darkness. Psycho was waiting for her, and Aleksey could have sworn the bodyguard began to hold hands and skip in time with Molly towards the cottage.
Ben handed him a bottle of wine and two glasses, and then served up the meal. ‘So?’
It was the first chance they’d had to speak alone together since the tennis match. Aleksey picked up his fork and began to rearrange his food, realised what he was doing and made a conscious effort to stop. Ben, however, was not eating either.
‘I honestly don’t know, Ben. The moron suggested it could have been one of the builders taking his lunch break out on the moors and just chatting to her.’
Ben stretched out a hand and laid it over his. ‘Thank you for being so calm with her.’
Aleksey joined their fingers. ‘Yes, well, you know that my previous experience of questioning involved more tears.’ He frowned when the fingers were withdrawn and rewound what he’d said. ‘When I was a child!’ Ben looked a little contrite, as well he might. Aleksey could vividly recall being beaten with one kitchen instrument or another while his mother screamed a variation of, ‘Why is Nika bleeding again?’ to which he’d never really had a good answer. Nikolas was usually bleeding because, just at the last moment, he’d hesitated. If you hesitated when you jumped or caught or shot or stabbed or did anything good in life, then you were lost. Fortune, as everybody knows, favours the brave. He pulled his thoughts back to the moment and conceded that, given his previous profession, Ben had some cause to confuse his comment. Actually, thinking about it, he reckoned questioning Molly was much harder than extracting information from the Mujahideen.
They would have talked more, thrashed the incident over and over until they argued, which was their normal response to such events, but just then the glass door opened and Molly arrived back, predictably towing her unicorn suitcase. Ben sighed audibly which made Aleksey smirk. They both enjoyed their arguments and the ferocious make-up sex that inevitably followed. Ben freed the cat which had, once more, been stuffed into the case and guided his daughter towards the living room. Aleksey heard the faint sounds of the television being switched on and a debate about what she could watch. He pulled the artwork closer and studied the image, ignoring now the little circle of children dancing. He tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, took a long swallow of wine, then dialled a number.
A woman picked up after a few rings. ‘Dydh da?’
Aleksey smirked and replied, ‘Dobry vecher.’ Two could play that dumb game, and he suspected he could play it in many more languages than Morwenna Eames could.
‘Oh, it’s you.’ He could never precisely interpret the tone of her voice when she spoke to him. For some reason, the rest of the family found their interactions hilarious, mainly, he suspected, because they left him fuming and irritable for the rest of the day. She got under his skin like a little splinter of annoyance he couldn’t pluck out, and yet it was inevitable, on Scilly, that they met frequently.
‘How’s my favourite customer?’
And Molly was the reason for that. Or at least he hoped it was Molly she was referring to. He couldn’t imagine it was him. ‘Good.’ He smiled a little as he pictured her with her latest stack of books, not tall enough to see over the counter, handing over her precious shells. It had started as a joke between the adults: Molly had tried to pay for some books with a shell she’d found on Light Island. Clearly, it was entirely reasonable to her, as a shell was far more precious than a piece of plastic that got handed over and handed back. Morwenna had gravely accepted it, but had then, after examining it, informed her it was only enough for one. Molly had readily assented and selected the one she wanted most. From then on, Aleksey had set up an account with the bookshop which recompensed Morwenna for the value of all the books Molly subsequently purchased, but Aleksey gave the annoying one credit for the fact she seemed equally delighted with the array of shells, feathers, flowers and other such items the child used for currency.
‘So, do you want to place a special order? What can I help you with?’ He heard her drinking something and topped up his own glass.
‘What is the boy Spanner’s real name?’
There was a frosty silence in response to this. He could feel the chill. He waited her out. He’d expected it. He could easily find out the boy’s name from Peyton, or track him via the dead father, as he assumed local news reports would have given the name of a murdered Scilly fisherman. But he wanted to let her know he had not forgotten this young man, whom he suspected of cutting their brake lines. He couldn’t prove it, which was the reason he’d given her for not reporting his suspicions to the police. The actual reasons were not ones he was going to share with her.
‘I’m not going to tell you.’
He’d anticipated this response as well. ‘I think he came here today. Spoke with Molly.’
‘What time?’
This caught him off guard. ‘This morning around midday. Why?’
‘Not possible. He was in the shop with me all afternoon.’
‘He’s back? On St Mary’s?’
‘Obviously. What happened? Is she all right?’
‘Yes, perfectly. It was probably nothing.’ He resumed tapping his fingers then ended the call abruptly when Ben came in.
‘Who was that?’
He curled his lip fractionally and admitted reluctantly, ‘The annoying one.’
‘With you, that could pretty much be anyone.’
‘Eames.’
‘Aww, sweet, your girlfriend.’ Ben grinned broadly and ruffled his hair as he passed. He went to the counter and started to make a sandwich and pour some milk.
Aleksey swivelled around to watch him. ‘I think Molly’s stranger might be the boy—Spanner.’ He held up the picture. Ben frowned and began to cut with great concentration. ‘What? It’s a reasonable assumption. He tried to kill us once. It is entirely possible he still believes I murdered his father. But apparently he is back on St Mary’s.’ Ben glanced up but seemed reluctant to speak, so Aleksey repeated, ‘What!’
‘I think you’ve become a bit fixated on him.’
