Second Shot

“So you rang Simone at the hotel,” I said. “Why? What was that going to achieve? If it was the money you were after, surely your best course would have been to keep quiet and say nothing. Simone was already convinced Greg was her father, and she turned out to be right. Why spill the beans?”

“I was jealous,” she said simply. ‘And hurt, and angry. So, I told her to come to the house because the results were back … and then I told her the truth.”

I sucked in a breath. “Which part of it?”

“I told her that Greg wasn’t really Greg Lucas,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “And I also told her that he’d killed the man she thought of as her father.”

“Does that mean,” I said carefully, “that you neglected to tell her the part about Greg actually being her real father?”

There was a long pause while we drove on, Rosalind’s eyes fixed so firmly on the taillights of the car ahead that she couldn’t possibly actually be looking at them. Then she said, barely audible, “Yes.”

My God, I thought. That would have been enough to send anyone off at the deep end. I was suddenly overwhelmed by tiredness that went bone-deep. What a waste. What a bloody awful waste.

‘And how did she react to that?”

“She went crazy,” Rosalind said, sounding not surprised exactly but maybe slightly awed at the force of Simone’s reaction. “She went for me with her claws out. I ran upstairs to try and get to my bedroom-at least there’s a lock on the door-but she caught up with me before I’d reached the top of the stairs and she was screaming because she was angry, and Ella was screaming because she was frightened. Then the bodyguard she had with her-Jakes-he came to try and break us up.”

She paused again, took a deep shaky breath. “I don’t think she meant to hit him, but somehow she did and he fell… and I knew as soon as I saw him hit the floor that he was dead. And then Greg walked in and Si-mone looked at him, standing over Jakes’s body in the hallway, and then she really lost it.”

I thought back to the words I’d heard that night and even I had to admit that it all fitted. I glanced back over my shoulder. Matt was sitting behind Rosalind, leaning forwards so his head was almost between the front seats. He was listening with a mix of emotions playing round his thin features, from anger to disbelief to an all-engulfing grief. I could see the tears had finally broken cover and were running freely down his cheeks, but he didn’t seem to be aware of them and made no moves to brush them away I closed my heart to his pain and pressed on, regardless.

“So how did you all get from the upper floor to the basement?” I said.

Rosalind glanced at me. “I shouted to Greg that Simone had gone crazy, that she had killed her own bodyguard and I needed his help. He bolted for his gun safe in the basement but-”

“What about that Smith amp; Wesson revolver? Wasn’t he still carrying it?”

She looked momentarily surprised. “No,” she said slowly, frowning. “I suppose he can’t have been. He doesn’t always.”

We’d turned off the main street now and were starting to thread through the quieter residential side roads leading towards Mount Cran-more. The lights for the ski runs were clearly visible, stretching above us.

“So he got to his gun safe and pulled a gun,” I prompted. “What then?”

“He couldn’t do it,” Rosalind said, her voice barely audible. “It didn’t matter than Simone could have killed me as well as Jakes. He let her walk right up to him and take the gun out of his hand.” She glanced sideways again. “And then you arrived and, well, I guess you pretty much know the rest.”

Not really….

“I don’t suppose,” I said, “that you happened to mention any of this to Detective Young after Simone was killed?”

Rosalind shook her head. “How could I and still protect Greg’s identity?” she said, mournful. “And what good would it have done? My duty was to the living.”

“Including Ella?”

“Of course,” Rosalind said, brusque. “She may not be mine-in any sense of the word,” she added with a rueful little half smile, “but I’ve come to love her like she was my own. I’m sure we both do.”

“So why let Greg take her? If he’s so fond of his granddaughter, why did he use her like a human shield out there in the forest?”

Rosalind made the final turn into the car park and slotted the Range Rover into a parking space outside the apartment, right next to Neagley’s Saturn, putting the gear lever into neutral.

“He’s not a professional soldier, Charlie,” she said, with just a hint of the patronizing in her voice. “He was frightened and he genuinely thought that by taking the child he could get her to safety After all, it was you who brought her down to the basement and put her into danger.”

I sat for a moment without speaking, working through what she’d said and trying to get it straight in my own head. Matt was silent behind us. I undipped my seat belt and turned to face Rosalind.