The Black Widow (10 page)

There was an air of barely controlled chaos behind the reception desk.

Still wearing the dark glasses that had protected her from the morning sun, Jo stood by her luggage, smiling patiently as she took in her surroundings. The reception area was pleasantly lit, with full-length windows overlooking the landscaped grounds that surrounded Elysian Fields.

Outside, bathed in the beauty of the early-morning sunlight, a handful of women lazed in robes on polished, wooden benches. The verdant lawn they walked on was a well-maintained carpet of crisp green that looked so sumptuous and inviting Jo longed to walk barefoot on it.

Although it was deserted, the interior of the reception area looked just as pleasant. A sing on the back wall, illustrated by arrows, showed the direction of various gym rooms, pools, saunas and an eatery, but this was the only concession to the practicalities of the health farm. Everywhere else seemed to concentrate on a stylish air of pleasant familiarity. The light, wicker furniture and pale, floral trimmings created an ambience that was spacious but welcoming.

Jo would have thought the reception area a lot more welcoming if the staff had tried to deal with their problems professionally. Instead, the two receptionists had shut themselves in a room behind the desk and were shouting at one another in pantomime whispers. Trying to appear nonchalant and disinterested, Jo calmly studied her surroundings and listened intently to everything they said.

In a way, Jo supposed she was responsible for some of their problems. Yesterday, when she had eventually relented and agreed to work on this case, she had made a hurried booking at Elysian Fields. In an uncharacteristic attempt at frugality, she had asked for the cheapest room with minimum services.

An hour later, after Sam had pissed her off, Jo called back and increased the expense of her stay. Shortly after that, and Jo strongly suspected that Sam had been involved somewhere, Doctor McMahon telephoned the office and lectured Jo at great length about her need for some time away from work. After enduring the doctor’s endless tirade, Jo had called Elysian Fields and demanded the most prestigious suite available with all the facilities and features they could foist upon her.

She supposed she should have done as much in the first place. It was not as though she had to pay for any of it. What she did not charge to the client’s expenses, Jo knew Sam would happily pay for. With that devil-may-care attitude colouring her view, Jo had actually found herself looking forwards to the break at Elysian Fields.

Watching the receptionists argue over the diary in their office, Jo tried to recall if she had cancelled the first or the second booking. The idea of having three rooms waiting for her did not seem that improbable and she cringed from the thought of having to explain her mistake to the two dour-faced bitches who worked behind the reception desk. It was much easier to simply pretend she was a victim of the problem rather than the cause of it.

A noise behind her snatched Jo from her musings.

The main doors opened and a tall, willowy woman struggled in beneath the weight of two heavy suitcases. Jo watched her dump the luggage by the door, glance warily around, then walk to the reception desk.

There was nothing spectacular about the newcomer. She was young but a little plain, Jo thought, and her dress sense was so dowdy it looked like she was applying for a job in a charity shop. Her shapeless cardigan hugged small breasts and disguised the shape of her waist and hips. Her ankle-length A-line skirt was so similar in colour to the cardigan that it looked badly matched, and again it disguised more of her figure than it revealed. Like Jo, she wore a pair of impenetrable sunglasses, but as she approached the reception desk she snatched these away from her face.

Jo’s interest in the new arrival would have disappeared completely if she had not seen what the woman held in her hand. For an instant the panicked exchange between the two receptionists was forgotten. Jo blinked, then squinted through her sunglasses, trying to see if her eyes were playing tricks.

‘Hello,’ the woman murmured softly, leaning against the reception desk.

Jo stepped closer to her. ‘They’re having a bit of a panic this morning.’ She nodded in the direction of the office behind the desk. ‘I think they’ve got a couple of unexpected staff absences.’

The woman nodded and rolled her eyes. ‘Just my luck to arrive here and find the staff have stopped working.’

Jo smiled sympathetically. ‘It’s not just less staff than was expected,’ she confided. ‘I accidentally booked three different rooms here yesterday. They’re still trying to decide which one to put me in.’ She glanced at the piece of red plastic in the woman’s hand, desperately wanting to get a proper look at it. If her suspicions were correct, Jo thought she could take a step closer to the satisfactory conclusion of this case. Talking to the newcomer could help throw some light on the mystery before she started investigating it properly.

‘Is that one of those personal invitations I’ve heard so much about?’ she asked carefully. Speaking quickly, so that the woman did not suspect a motive behind her questions, Jo added, ‘I have a friend who received something similar. I could have sworn it looked like that.’

Feigning nonchalant familiarity, Jo eased herself closer to poppy. The fresh smell of the woman’s cologne wafted against her nostrils, and, beneath that, Jo could sense the warmth of her nearness. She could feel the first stirrings of an unbidden arousal tingling between her legs.

Oblivious to Jo’s proximity, the woman nodded and grinned. Pride and excitement were shining in her eyes. Passing the piece of plastic to Jo, she said, ‘Yes, it is. Take a look at it. I can’t believe my good fortune in actually receiving one. Do you know how long I’ve been working as a solicitor?’

It was a peculiar question and Jo shook her head in response as she studied the invitation. It was identical to the one Faye Meadows had been sent, with the exception of the woman’s name. This invitation was made out to Poppy Darling. ‘How long have you been working as a solicitor, Poppy?’ Jo asked, handing the card back.

‘Four years,’ Poppy replied, taking the invitation. ‘Four long years, and this is the first gratuity I’ve ever received.’ She waved the card in a trembling hand, simultaneously expressing her anger and triumph in the same gesture. Smiling wearily, she said, ‘I suppose it’s just as well this place is a health farm. A fortnight’s break is the one thing I could really use at the moment.’

Jo nodded and tried to look understanding. ‘You must have really impressed your client to merit a fortnight’s stay here.’

Poppy shrugged. ‘I guess I must have,’ she agreed. ‘Although, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure who sent it.’

Jo laughed softly. ‘You’ve received your first gratuity in four years and you don’t know who sent it to you?’

Poppy smiled awkwardly into Jo’s mirth-filled face. The expression stretched awkwardly along her lips and illuminated her otherwise dull features. Jo reprimanded herself for almost dismissing Poppy as plain and uninteresting. There was an allure to the woman’s smile that hinted at fantastic beauty, if only she had made the effort to release her potential.

‘It didn’t even occur to me to think about that,’ Poppy explained. ‘I know that I’ve never actually done any work for Elysian Fields. And I don’t think I’ve worked for anyone directly linked to this place…’ Her voice trailed off and her eyes took on a faraway expression, as though she was seriously trying to remember whom she had been employed by over the past four years.

Jo watched her, wishing she did not find the woman so damnably interesting.

Poppy shrugged again and smiled uneasily. ‘I had wondered about who sent it but I’d decided not to push it. Once I’d confirmed that the invitation was genuine, and it was going to be honoured, that was enough for me.’ A frown crossed her brow and she stared solemnly down at the reception desk. Speaking in a world-weary voice, she said, ‘It was hard enough getting the time off work. I’ve heard about people having to bend over backward to get holidays, but I had to do a damned sight more than that.’ She shook her head, laughed darkly, then winked mischievously at Jo. ‘I think I can look forward to bending over backward when I return,’ she added. ‘But what the hell?’

Jo frowned uncertainly, not sure what the woman meant by the comment. Suddenly, she was sure of one thing. Whatever Poppy Darling was like as a solicitor, Jo doubted she resembled the creature who now stood in front of her. It was an unusual thought for Jo, but she felt certain that the idea of a break was allowing this dowdy woman her first chance at self-expression. It occurred to her that her first impression of Poppy might have been unfair and she looked forward to reassessing her over the next two weeks. Admittedly, Poppy was unexciting to look at, but there was something about the mischievous glint in her eyes that Jo found distinctly appealing. She could feel herself being drawn to the woman for no reason other than the light in her eyes and she wondered if Poppy might be the type to reciprocate such feelings. It seemed unlikely, Jo supposed, but she could feel the spreading warmth of excitement between her legs as she mentally pictured herself kissing the woman. The image was so powerful Jo tried to stop herself from succumbing to the feelings of mounting arousal that sparkled in the pit of her stomach.

Seemingly oblivious to this, Poppy waved a flippant hand, dismissing her earlier lapse into melancholy reverie. ‘Anyway,’ she said, forcing her mood to brighten, ‘I’m here now, and that’s the main thing.’ She struck her hand against the small bell on the reception desk, sending a shrill ring echoing through the room.

One of the receptionists opened the door a quarter of an inch and glanced angrily through the gap. Once she had the woman’s attention, Poppy waved her red and gold invitation as though it was a Masonic handshake.

Jo frowned when she saw the look of consternation cross the receptionist’s face. The woman turned to face her colleague and Jo heard the words, ‘One of them’s here. It’s one of those cards.’

Then the door slammed shut.

Poppy and Jo exchanged a glance.

‘They need to learn a little about customer relations,’ Poppy observed.

‘That’s an understatement,’ Jo said softly. ‘They’re bloody hibernating.’ She smiled tightly, her unease suddenly growing. She was about to offer Poppy a word of warning when the door behind the desk burst open and the two receptionists rushed out to greet them.

‘Sorry about that,’ they said in unison. One of them was speaking to Jo; the other was directing her words at Poppy. Jo glanced at the pair of them and saw that the woman addressing Poppy wore a badge on her lapel bearing the name Wendy.

Jo’s receptionist did not have a name badge. ‘Thank you for being so patient,’ Jo was told by the nameless receptionist.

‘Could I see your invitation?’ Wendy asked Poppy.

Jo glanced over, trying to make her interest look casual. Her own receptionist was murmuring something about a problem with overbooking, but Jo was happy to ignore her.

‘Can you tell me, Wendy?’ she began suddenly. ‘Those invitations look very special. I was thinking of sending one as an anonymous gift to a friend. If I did, would there be any way of her finding out who sent it?’

The two receptionists exchanged a glance.

‘I’ll get some information sent up to your room, Miss Valentine,’ Wendy said firmly.

Jo turned to stare at Poppy, wondering if the woman was going to ask about the invitation now, while the conversation allowed it. She could see Poppy glancing curiously at her and Jo raised an eyebrow.

‘Do you know who sent this one?’ Poppy asked after a moment’s silence.

Wendy smiled tightly, then rubbed a casual hand through her short hair. She cast a dark glare at Jo before turning to her books. ‘I’m sure I can find that out for you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’ll just organise your room first and then I’ll get the information sent up to you.’

How peculiar, Jo thought dryly. This woman doesn’t say, ‘Fuck off and stop bothering me;’ she says, ‘I’ll get the information sent up to you.’ The thought brought a smile to her lips.

‘If you’d care to follow me,’ Wendy said to Poppy, ‘we can go through your needs and requirements for the next two weeks.’ She began to usher Poppy out of the reception area and through a door into the main building.

‘Will I be seeing you around, Poppy?’ Jo called softly.

Poppy turned to her and smiled happily. ‘Count on it.’ The mischievous glint shone in her eyes again and, for the second time, Jo was touched by a wave of longing for the woman. She realised Wendy was glaring at her, but for the moment that did not matter. All that mattered was the alluring hint of wickedness Poppy’s smile.

Watching the door close on Poppy and Wendy, Jo wondered why she could feel her stomach muscles tightening nervously. Something was giving her serious cause for concern and she wished she could put her finger on the source. Frowning darkly, she realised the remaining receptionist was studying her sullenly. ‘Where are they off to?’ Jo asked.

‘Wendy is taking Miss Darling for the standard induction,’ the receptionist explained. ‘Allen will be down to induct you shortly.

‘I can hardly wait,’ Jo said, rolling her eyes sarcastically. ‘Who sent Poppy that invitation?’

The receptionist snorted haughtily. ‘I can’t tell you that.’

‘Of course you can,’ Jo assured her. ‘Poppy will tell me before the end of the day, so you’ll just be cutting out the middleman.’

The receptionist shook her head. ‘If Miss Darling’s going to tell you, then I don’t need to jeopardise Elysian Fields’ reputation for discretion, do I?’ A knowing smiled crossed her lips and she added, ‘You just wait until she tells you what you want to know. That way, we’ll all be happy.’

Bitch, Jo thought sourly. In an uncharacteristic display of tact, she did not give voice to the thought.

Jo had not expected a proper answer from the woman but the one she had been given was far more detailed than she could have hoped. The receptionist was determined not to share her knowledge about the invitation but Jo could tell the woman was bursting with some private secret that she longed to divulge. The nastiness in her tone and the wicked lilt to her smile left Jo fearing for Poppy’s safety.