Saffron breathed a great sigh of relief when she finally got into her bathroom to disrobe. She tugged out all the bits and pieces she’d accumulated through her adventure, dumped them into a basin on the tiled floor, and emptied a bottle of peroxide over the whole mess.
There was a trail of dirt on the bathroom floor by the time she settled into a steaming-hot bath. While Elizabeth had made a beeline for the wine bottle, the bath was the first thing Saffron wanted—the second, actually, but she didn’t know when she would get to see Alexander.
Saffron and Elizabeth had been promised that Alexander and Nick would be rescued in short order. Without Colin to report backwhat had happened to Alfie, two of his thugs had shown up at Number 28. The police had promptly arrested and interrogated them, and between their reluctant confessions and what the London police and Nick’s “office” already knew of Alfie Tennison, Saffron had to think that Alfie and his hostages would be found soon. She forced herself to believe it. Colin was under arrest in a hospital bed, and therefore Alfie couldn’t know what had occurred. Alexander and Nick would be safe.
A knock on the front door had Saffron scrambling out of the bath. Her head and body throbbed, but she didn’t care. She wrapped herself in her dressing gown and peered down the hall.
Elizabeth, wine bottle in hand, stood at the front door. She was speaking to a man in a police uniform. Elizabeth stepped aside, and the man, followed by another in uniform, came inside. Saffron quickly retreated. Elizabeth knocked on the bathroom door and said through the door, “Saff, the police have sent some fellows to wait with us until the rest of this is settled. Said not to mind them, they’re just here to ensure Alfie doesn’t catch wind and make good on his promises about the river.”
From the loose way she spoke, Saffron guessed Elizabeth had already made good headway on the wine, and perhaps the cooking spirits too. She sighed, turning to the mirror to dry off properly. Her head was tender from Simpson banging the greenhouse door into her. Poor Simpson. For all his heroics, he seemed to have been rather forgotten in the shuffle after the police arrived at Number 28. She hoped he’d manage to get some recognition. After all, if not for his telephone calls to Inspector Green and the local police and arriving when he had, the story would have had a very different ending.
She dabbed some ointment on her bruise and thought about Elizabeth. She was likely to be the only one who came out of this physically unharmed. But mentally …
Elizabeth projected worldly confidence like a blazing summer sun, but she also had a tender heart capable of great love and craved it in return. Saffron wasn’t sure what it would do to her to have had her boyfriend betray and use her so. She would have to keep a close eye on Elizabeth.
She put on comfortable, cozy clothing. She went through the ritual of combing and braiding her long hair but found it gave her little comfort. From the smells and sounds from the kitchen, she knew Elizabeth was cooking something. Saffron had no appetite herself, and she doubted Elizabeth did either. She was relying on her own comforting routines. Saffron wondered if she ought to leave her alone to brood. Still deciding, she stepped into the parlor to greet the police officer.
He turned from the window as she entered the room.
“Hello,” Saffron said. “Have you had any news regarding Mr. Ashton or Mr. Hale?”
“I expect you’ll see them soon, Miss Everleigh,” he replied.
She exhaled. “That’s good news.”
His thin lips lifted in a half-smile. “It certainly is.”
Curious, she asked, “Your accent is so hard to place. Are you English?”
“Certainly,” he replied. “As English as a girl born and raised in Bedford.”
He said it like it was a common turn of phrase, but it definitely was not. “I—yes, I suppose I am quite English.” She wet her lips, unable to place the unease winding through her. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t,” the officer said. “But, please, call me Bill.”
She was definitely uncomfortable now. Something in the nonchalance of his voice, the steadiness of his gaze. She forced a light laugh. “That’s rather too informal for someone I’ve just met.”
He canted his head to the side. That half-smile played at his lips again. “What makes you think that you and I haven’t met before?”
CHAPTER49
Saffron stared at the man she was now certain was not a police officer. “We haven’t met before, I’m sure of it.”
“No, you’re not.” Bill took a step forward, and Saffron took an automatic step back. With exaggerated purpose, he lowered himself into an armchair. He gestured for her to sit too.
She hesitated, tempted to run to the kitchen to Elizabeth, or even to the telephone. She wet her dry lips. “Where have we met, then?”
“I’m hurt you don’t remember me. We’ve known each other for years, in one way or another.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. He had plain features, dark brown hair swept back from his forehead, and soft eyes that would require closer inspection to determine the color. She couldn’t determine his age either. He was certainly older than Alexander, who was in his early thirties, but not yet middle-aged. His nose was on the larger side, but it wasn’t memorable. Nothing about his face was. She swallowed hard. “Well, if we’re such good friends, perhaps you should let me go.”
Bill’s brow puckered. “You are at liberty to leave any time you like. You are not a prisoner here.”
She caught his unspoken meaning. “I suppose you wouldn’t leave if I asked politely.”
“I will, after you give me what I want.”
“I don’t have it.”
