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Suddenly,
Frederica began to laugh. ‘Oh Lorcan, you crazy, gallant, wonderful fool.' She shook her head, wiping away tears of relief. It was over at last then. Not in the way she'd planned, but then, what did it matter? She could let him have his way this time. She turned on the engine and then thought . . . where am I going? She'd intended to go home, but now . . . Lorcan would return here, to Oxford, when he was done, of that she was sure. If for no other reason than to confront her and tell her what he'd done. And her room at St Bede's was still officially hers until Monday morning.

She nodded, turned the car round, and headed back to College. She didn't know it, but she had two very puzzled policemen to keep her company on the short journey back.

*          *          *

In the JCR, Reeve and Norman Rix were doing their big scene, hissing in whispers that no one, no matter how they strained their ears, could quite catch. At one point, Reeve put out a hand and physically restrained Norman from leaving.

Norman shook his head vehemently. As arranged, all the ‘employees' of the ‘Oxford Spires Publishing Company' stood in one group, and when both Reeve and Norman pointedly looked their way, to the frustration
of
the delegates, none of them could tell who the two men were looking at. Right on cue, Julie said defensively, ‘I know everyone thinks I killed John because he made me have an abortion, but I think there's more than one killer,' she pouted. ‘I mean, it stands to reason, it would take more than one person to steal the painting. I think those two,' and she looked at Reeve and Norman, ‘are in this together, and planning to frame me for it.' And she burst into hysterical tears.

Gerry turned away in scorned wife-turned-widow disgust. Annis patted her arm gently, but looked worried. The delegates conferred. Just after dinner, before the conference finally broke up, the ‘Inspector' was due to give the final denouement. Before then, everyone had been invited to write down who they thought had killed John, and why. None of them had any idea, as yet, that they were due to be treated to the magnificent spectacle of Reeve being ‘poisoned' with the wine!

*          *          *

Frederica returned to her room, and, with time hanging heavy on her hands, pulled out a paperback, as she waited restlessly for Lorcan to return. She refused to think, even for a moment, that she might never see him again. He was not the kind of man to get out when the going got tough. No. He just got tougher.
Half
the time she kept an ear cocked, expecting a knock on the door, and a burly policeman with a warrant for her arrest.

The afternoon wore on, and there was no knock, but no Lorcan either.

*          *          *

In the basement of the Greene Gallery in London, Lorcan's eyes glowed orange in the reflected flame of the burning canvas. Frederica's weeks and weeks of careful planning, sketching and painting, went up in flames in a remarkably short time. With the smoke curling up to the ceiling, Lorcan felt the tension slipping away at last. Now Frederica was safe. And the only thing she had to worry about was him.

He would keep her on the straight and narrow if he had to chain her to the bedpost. The thought made his body ache . . .

*          *          *

By two-thirty, everyone from the conference had already made their way to the park for the scheduled cricket match between the delegates and St Bede's, even the women whose interest in cricket was zero.

The Bursar's team, consisting of a few graduates who were still up, and several Dons, won the toss and elected to bat first for
St
Bede's. The delegates had assembled a fair team from their own ranks, and soon the very English sound of a cricket match filled the somnolent afternoon air. Several tourists and local families out enjoying the sunshine soon discovered the match and sat on the grass, swelling the audience, clapping politely in all the right places.

‘I know nothing about cricket,' one woman confessed to her companion, ‘but I could watch it all day if they all looked like him.' She nodded towards Reeve.

The other woman turned to look at Reeve, who was standing nearby ready to field. ‘I know what you mean.'

Annis, who was sitting within eavesdropping distance, felt the dual thrill of ownership and jealousy lance through her, and she smiled softly, settling down on the grass, hands tucked behind her head.

They'd be back in London tomorrow. She wondered if he'd ask her to move in with him. It would be nice to get out of her depressing little bedsit. It would be even nicer to have a real life again. Since Reeve had come into it, she was beginning to realise how empty it had been before.

Parked in the shade of a big horse-chestnut tree out on the road, a dark-blue Mercedes, with darkened windows, waited silently. Its number plates had been smeared with mud, making them impossible to read. Inside, Carl
Struthers
watched the cricket match through the park railings, his fingers drumming impatiently on the edge of the steering wheel. It was baking hot in the car, but he didn't seem to notice. In his mind's eye, he could see again the dark-haired actress, walking hand-in-hand with her handsome companion, entering the park gates as if she hadn't a care in the world.

His lips thinned. How dared she interfere with his plans. How dared she? Visions of the painting of Alfred Gore swam through his mind. He pictured nights and nights of sitting in the hidden, private room which housed his collection, drooling over it in pleasure. Nothing would stop him from doing that. Nothing.

Any threat simply had to be removed. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Sweat poured, unnoticed, from his forehead. The afternoon wore on.

*          *          *

Lorcan poured water into the grey ashes in the can, watching the water dissolve into a grey slush. He then carefully poured it down the drain. He hadn't dared do this in Oxford. With Richard around, it was best to take no chances.

As the last of the evidence disappeared down the drain, Lorcan let out a huge sigh of relief. It was not quite four o'clock when he
got
into the Aston Martin and took the now familiar route back to Oxford.

*          *          *

Reeve made a mad dash, jumped into the air, and squarely caught the hard, round, red cricket ball. The batsman groaned as he was caught out, but left the field in good grace as the umpire indicated that it was time for the teams to change places. Reeve, who had gone to a public school that appreciated cricket, was a fair bowler, and as he began to play, interest in the game markedly perked up.

Outside, in the car, Carl Struthers sweated and waited, his eyes glimmering with dark, obsessive hatred.

On the grass, Annis turned on to her stomach and watched, with amber eyes that glowed, as her lover played cricket.

At the end of their innings, the delegates were winning by a comfortable margin. As the players shook hands with traditional sportsmanship, the spectators began to disperse, and everyone slowly made their way to the park gates and back to their rooms in time to bathe and change for dinner. Annis stayed where she was, and as Reeve walked over to her, sat up, and watched him with a secretive smile.

‘Quite the sportsman, aren't we?' she drawled.

Reeve
grinned. ‘I'm a bit out of practice.'

‘Poor baby,' Annis purred, holding out her hand. Reeve helped her up, and casually slung his arm across her shoulders as they walked to the gates, laughing. There, they met a mother with a double-buggy pushchair, taking pretty identical twins through the gates. Annis moved to one side and Reeve to the other to let her through, Annis emerging on to the pavement first.

‘Are we going to go back to Squitchey Lane before dinner?' she asked over her shoulder, stepping out on to the deserted road. Reeve, who was still grinning down at the pretty twins, nodded and looked up. ‘I think so. We've got a few hours before the final scene.'

‘Oh yes, I'm looking forward to poisoning you!' she called cheekily, heading across the road. Somewhere to her left a quiet engine suddenly purred into life.

Carl Struthers moved slowly away from the kerb, lining the woman up in front of him, and then, with a sudden jerk on the accelerator and a jubilant grin on his face, roared towards her. Reeve heard the change in engine pitch at the same time as Annis did. Annis's head swung around, her black hair creating a perfect fan around her head as she swivelled. All she saw was a dark-blue shape bearing down on her at terrific speed.

Carl saw a white oval face and big, shocked eyes. He laughed. She was as good as dead.

Reeve
shouted, but even as his agonised voice filled the air with her name, he was already moving. There was a short stretch of grass that led down on to the road, but he didn't even touch it as he leapt over it, landing on the road with a jarring sensation that rattled his teeth. But even then he kept going, moving, diving forward towards Annis, who stood frozen in the road.

Although it had been less than second it seemed like an eternity. Annis's brain frantically assimilated all sorts of useless data, taking up precious time, as she stood rooted to the spot. She could make out the insignia of the car and thought, dazedly, ‘It's a Mercedes.' Her favourite car. It was so close, she could see the tiny chip marks on the front bumper. And then something hit her, propelling her forward with brutal force. She felt the air of the car rush by her legs as she flew forward, and then the heat from the exhaust.

As she hit the tarmac with a painful thump, she heard the squeal of brakes, then the sudden gunning of the motor, as the car that had missed her by inches sped away. She was aware of pain then, and a crushing weight on top of her, and found herself lying in the middle of the road, Reeve on top of her, holding her tight.

Annis, dazed, felt herself being hauled to her feet. She turned a white, shocked face to find Reeve's face as white as her own. His
dark,
sapphire blue eyes were wide with shock and horror. ‘Annis, I thought I'd lost you,' he said, his magnificent, actor's voice for once dull and devoid of all expression except blank horror.

Suddenly he hugged her close, rocking her back and forth in his arms. ‘Annis, for pity's sake, don't ever do that to me again,' he choked out.

Annis closed her eyes. She had nearly died! She hugged him back, fiercely, ignoring the bleeding scratches on her arms and legs. ‘I won't,' she promised him. ‘I won't. Oh Reeve, I love you so.'

Reeve shuddered and continued to hold her, knowing he'd never let her go again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Reeve carried in a mug of coffee laced liberally with brandy, and brought it to the settee. ‘Here, drink this,' he urged her, handing her the steaming brew.

They'd taken a taxi back to Squitchey Lane, and Reeve had insisted on carrying her inside, before going into the kitchen for a hot drink and a bowl of warm water and antiseptic. He tenderly cleaned her grazes, whilst Annis watched, wincing painfully.

‘Don't tell me you're one of those cry babies
who
can't stand a dab of ointment on a cut without yelling blue murder?' he teased.

Annis stuck her tongue out at him.

‘I'll call Ray and tell him you can't do the poisoning scene,' Reeve added, as he reached for the sticking plasters.

‘You'll do no such thing,' Annis squeaked and Reeve laughed.

‘You've got to be feeling better.'

Annis was. The brandy had helped chase away some of the coldness of shock. ‘I'm fine,' she said. ‘At least, fine enough to “kill” you off.'

Reeve grinned. ‘I might have known. You've been looking forward to that from the moment we met, haven't you?' he leaned forward to kiss her tenderly.

Annis smiled as he pulled away, relishing the taste of him on her lips. ‘You bet,' she purred. ‘Besides, it's the final scene of the play. Of course I want to do it.'

‘I still think that nearly getting run over and killed is a reasonable excuse for crying off a performance,' he added, determined to get in the last word. He sat on the floor beside her, his back to the sofa, and stared unseeingly at the fireplace. With his dark curly head so close, Annis couldn't resist the temptation to play with one black curl, and wrapped it around her index finger. Reeve closed his eyes briefly at her touch, then opened them again. In his mind, he replayed the scene of twenty
minutes
earlier.

‘You know,' he said softly, ‘that car. It was parked up. I'm sure it was. And how many people normally shoot away from the kerb like that?'

Annis tensed. ‘What are you saying?' she asked, her voice suddenly harsh with tension.

Reeve looked up at her and took her hand in his. ‘I don't think that what just happened was an accident, Annis. The moment you stepped out into the road, the driver went straight for you, like a guided missile.'

Annis swallowed hard. ‘But . . . why would anyone want to kill me? It has to be a mistake. Maybe he lost control of the wheel?' she asked hopefully.

But Reeve shook his head. ‘No. Ever since we started this Oxford gig, I've had a niggling feeling at the back of my mind that something wasn't quite right. It all started that time we found Ray arguing with someone at rehearsals. Remember?'

Annis nodded miserably. ‘You think it's got something to do with Ray?' For a while they both thought of good old, roly-poly, jovial Ray Verney. It seemed so . . . unlikely.

‘Let's think. If someone wanted you out of the way, it was for a good reason,' Reeve said, fighting off the rage that he felt. If he ever got his hands on that damned driver . . .

Annis took a shaky breath. ‘OK,' she agreed bravely. ‘What have I done, seen, said or what
do
I know that would upset someone?'