Quest for Alexis (8 page)

“I didn’t even see him,” I said miserably. “He
snatched it from behind. It’s a black patent bag, with a
strap.”

I felt a terrible wave of frustration, of helplessness,
of sheer panic.

Hearing a sudden commotion somewhere across the lobby, I turned to look. Other people were staring, too,
but in the confusion I couldn’t make out what was
happening. Then, like a miracle, I saw a tall man push
ing his way toward me, waving my handbag above his
head.

“This is yours, miss, I think,” he said, presenting it
to me.

“Oh, thank you. That’s marvelous. I was feeling des
perate, wondering what on earth I was going to do.”

“You’d better make sure nothing is missing,” he
suggested.

The clasp was still fastened. I unclipped it and took
a quick look inside. Passport, wallet—both safe. A
tidal wave of relief flooded through me. “I
...
I really don’t know how to thank you enough.” I stammered.
“What happened, exactly?”

“Well, I was standing over there waiting around for
my wife, and I happened to notice this little guy snatch
your purse. He made off fast, dodging into the crowd,
and I lost sight of him. But a couple of seconds later
he came right past me, and I grabbed at him. Unfor
tunately, I couldn’t hold him—these sneak thieves are
as slippery as eels—and it was all so quick I don’t
think other people realized what was going on. I’m
afraid he got clean away. Still, he dropped your purse,
that’s the main thing.”

“I’m so very grateful to you.”

“Glad to have been of service.” He smiled, gave me
an embarrassed little bow, and strode away.

It needed several minutes for my heartbeat to slow
back to normal. I’d had a very narrow escape. With
out my handbag, it wouldn’t have been possible to go
on to Majorca. A phone call to my bank might have
replaced the stolen money, but it would probably have
taken days and days to replace a lost passport.

* * * *

There was half an hour before the plane was due to
leave. Caterina wanted to wait with me, but I wouldn’t
let her. I knew that Sir Ralph disapproved of my going to Majorca. I didn’t want to keep Caterina away from
home for too long and give him something else to hold
against me.

Tears glistened in her eyes as she kissed me goodbye. “I still wish you wouldn’t go. Take care of your
self, my dear one.”

“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry. You’ve been so sweet
and kind, Caterina. One day I’ll be able to thank you properly.”

The time seemed to crawl by when she had gone.
But at last the formalities were over, and I waited with
a group of other passengers to board the plane.

From close behind me a low voice murmured into
my ear, “That wasn’t very clever of you, Gail.”

Brett. I spun around and stared at him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked faintly.

He held up a canvas airline bag for me to see.

“I told you that if you were mad enough to go to
Majorca, then I was coming with you. But I didn’t ex
pect you’d try and pull a fast one like that. I barely
had time to make a reservation.”

I seethed with fury. “How did you find out? Was it
Caterina who told you?”

“Does it matter how I found out? Actually, it was
that Mrs. Cramp. I called you at Deer’s Leap this morn
ing to ask how things were going, and she told me
you’d gone off in a hurry to catch a plane.”

“She’d no right to,” I said in bitter dismay.

Brett and I didn’t speak again until we had boarded
the plane. Without asking, he dropped into the seat
next to me.

“Why are you doing this, Brett?” I demanded.

“More to the point, why are
you
doing it? What do
you hope to gain?”

He wouldn’t understand. He didn’t want to under
stand. I said in an angry undertone, “I’m not obliged
to explain my actions to you, Brett.”

“Maybe not. But you’d be well advised to try and explain them to yourself. Get this into your skull, Gail—
your uncle could hardly have made it plainer that he
doesn’t care a damn what you or anyone else thinks of
him. He’s opted out, and to hell with all those lofty
ideals he was supposed to stand for. Okay, so he’s got his hands on more money than he’s ever had in his life
before ... and a beautiful woman to help him spend
it. He’s not the first man to lose his head like that, and
he won’t be the last. But I wish to God he’d picked a
less crucial time. Why did he have to wait until the
film was nine-tenths made?”

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” I muttered
savagely.

“If you really think so, Gail.... But I think you’re wrong.”

* * * *

The gray winter day stretched on interminably as
we flew across France. I refused to discuss Alexis any
further, and there was little else for Brett and me to talk
about. Or too many things. For most of the time we
were locked in a tight silence, except for an occasional
frozen courtesy. I could never for a single instant for
get that it was Brett who sat next to me, and sometimes,
accidentally, we touched. My brain spun with memo
ries of the time we had spent together. The pain of it
was almost more than I could bear.

Then we were over the Mediterranean, nearing the
end of our journey, and the sun broke through at last. Quite suddenly the air was clear, only the far horizon
veiled with a soft lilac haze. Far below, a ship scored
a line of gold across the glittering cobalt sea.

Out of the misty distance an island emerged, rugged
mountains and deep valleys, wild and beautiful. As we
crossed the coastal range and dipped lower, there ap
peared to be a white gauze laid upon the land. “That’s
the almond trees in bloom,” said a man in the seat be
hind us, and a sigh of delight rippled among the pas
sengers. So much beauty, yet today it only made me
sad.

Once we landed, I wasted no breath trying to argue
with Brett. I let him find us a taxi, and immediately he gave the driver the name of the hotel where Alexis was reported to be staying.

The taxi rattled along noisily in a stream of fast-
moving traffic, flashing past orchards of almond trees
and the quaint Majorcan windmills that whirled around
like children’s toys. It took only a few minutes to
reach Palma, where the buildings struck me as Italianate rather than Spanish. Down by the harbor we joined
a broad modern highway that curved around the arc
of the bay. It was absurdly warm for February.

“This is the place for a winter holiday,” Brett re
marked. “Who wants to be in England at this time of
year?”

A winter holiday ... with Brett? Twelve months
ago that would have been one of my dreams. Now, for
all the warmth of the sun, I felt frozen inside.

With the moment of truth, my confrontation with
Alexis, so near, I had to think how I could shake Brett off. I was determined to see my uncle alone. Without
Brett, if possible without Belle Forsyth.

We swept on around the bay, where white-sailed
boats gracefully skimmed the water. Here the hotels
became more widely spaced—shining new towers,
each with tier upon tier of balconies overlooking the
sea, swimming pools and terrace restaurants. A holiday paradise.

The taxi swerved into an entrance, climbed a steep
curving driveway, and pulled up by wide chrome-and-glass doors flung open to the warm afternoon.

“Alexis is certainly doing things in style,” Brett
commented dryly.

We entered and went to inquire at the desk. The
clerk, a handsome olive-skinned young Spaniard, informed us aloofly that Dr. Karel was not in the hotel at the moment.

How stupid of me to have imagined Alexis would
be sitting around here, as if waiting for me to turn up.
But I had got myself to such a peak of tension that I
felt a terrible sense of letdown.

“Do you know where he is?” Brett asked. “Or when
he’ll be back?”

“I regret,
señor,
I do not.”

Brett looked at me. “I suppose we’d better check
ourselves in, then. We’ll have to stay the night some
where, and we might as well be on the spot.”

“Yes, all right.”

Once he knew we were to be guests ourselves, the
clerk unbent a little. While consulting the register he
volunteered the information that Dr. Karel and Miss
Forsyth were not expected to be dining in the hotel that
evening.

Yet I had a feeling that he wasn’t telling us every
thing he knew. His manner was a shade too smooth.
Brett seemed to notice nothing, and I kept my suspi
cions to myself. If I was going to pump the clerk for
information, I’d prefer to do it alone.

We were given two rooms on opposite sides of the
corridor, on the fifth floor. As we parted outside my
door, Brett said, “I’ll come and collect you in fifteen
minutes? Let’s have a drink and decide what we’re
going to do. Okay?”

“Make it half an hour, will you? I must have a
shower.”

“Not a bad idea. I think I will, too.”

Once in my room, I flung myself into action, shower
ing and dressing in ten minutes flat. Then, stealthily, I
opened my door and peered into the corridor. Every
thing was quiet. Brett’s door was safely closed. I sped
along to the stairs and went down a floor before sum
moning the elevator, just in case Brett should come out
of his room and see me waiting.

As I’d been hoping, now that I was alone the desk
clerk’s attitude was subtly different. He gave me his
full attention.

“Yes,
senora ... ?”

“Just between the two of us,” I wheedled, “are you
quite sure you don’t know where Dr. Karel is?”

He shook his head, smiling at me regretfully. “You are from an English newspaper? There have been so many reporters, and Dr. Karel is not pleased with the
way they have pestered him.”

“I’m not a reporter, oh no.”

He looked at me hesitantly, and I became more than
ever convinced that he was concealing something.

“Please,” I begged. “I must see him. I’m a relative.
It’s terribly urgent.”

In the end he gave way gracefully. “I can only tell
you this,
senora.
Dr. Karel asked me if I could recommend a restaurant in Palma, and I told him the Velasquez was an excellent place. It is possible that he and
Miss Forsyth will dine there this evening, though of
course I cannot promise.”

The time for dinner was still hours away. But this
might be the only chance I’d get of escaping from Brett.

“Haven’t you any idea at all where they might be
now?”

He shrugged. I was being too persistent. “Sightsee
ing, perhaps. There is much to interest visitors on the island.”

The only thing, I decided, was to kill time on my
own until there was hope of finding Alexis at the res
taurant. I asked the clerk to cash a traveler’s check
for me and ordered a taxi.

“One more thing,” I said as I was leaving. “The
gentleman I came with ... please say nothing to him
about where I’m going.”

He nodded, smiling at me like a conspirator.

I asked the taxi driver to drop me off somewhere in
the center of Palma. I found I was in a wide, busy
street called (of course) the Avenida Generalissimo
Franco. I began to stroll aimlessly.

For a while I kept to the main thoroughfares, glanc
ing at the shops with their rich displays of old lace and mantillas, Moorish jewelery, and exquisite embroidery,
all the time keeping a faintly hopeful lookout for
Alexis and Belle. Then suddenly it struck me that by
now Brett must have realized I had given him the slip.
He might come searching for me.

The huge mass of the Gothic cathedral rose ahead
of me, and I decided to take refuge in there.

Entering, I was pounced on eagerly by guides. But I
was there to get through unwanted time, not to sightsee. I evaded them and wandered alone in the cool,
echoing nave. Even in my present withdrawn mood, I could not help being affected by the atmosphere—the
magnificence of the lofty vaulted roof, the brilliant
bold colors of the stained glass. After a time I sat down quietly at the back of the little side chapel and listened
while Mass was celebrated.