THE PERFECT KILL (19 page)

Leonie was washing the dishes. She turned in astonishment. “What!”

Creasy was still looking at Michael. He said evenly, “Don’t dive in, go down the steps. Just do four lengths slowly, but then stay in the water for half an hour. Sit on the steps with the water up to your neck.”

Leonie was walking to the table, her hands dripping wet.

“Are you mad?”

“Go ahead,” Creasy said to Michael. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

The young man stood up and left the kitchen.

Leonie stood in front of Creasy, her wet hands on her hips and her eyes radiating a mixture of disbelief and anger.

“Are you mad?” she repeated.

Creasy sighed and looked up at her face.

“Are you a doctor?” he asked.

“No.”

“A trained nurse?”

“No.”

“Ever had any experience of gunshot wounds?”

“No, I have not,” she snapped. “But I spoke to Dr Grech on the phone yesterday, after you left the hospital. He said that Michael was to have complete rest and not to exert himself.”

Creasy shrugged. “He’s a very good doctor, but he’s had almost no experience of gunshot wounds.”

“Oh,” she said scornfully. “So you know better than a doctor?”

“In this case, maybe I do,” he answered calmly.

Her voice was emphatic. “Well I’m not going to let it happen.” She turned and walked to the kitchen door.

Later she was to remember how fast he had been. She had not taken two strides before his hand gripped her arm above the elbow tight enough to hurt.

“You will not interfere.” He turned her to face him, his voice still quiet. “If you interfere, you will leave this house and the island immediately and not come back. You know what that means? You will carry no letter with you from the Notary…you know the terms of our contract?”

For a long time she looked up into his face, her eyes full of hatred. Then she spat the words out.

“You’re a bloody bastard, an inhuman bastard. Why are you doing this to him?”

Without any sign of emotion, he answered, “It’s for his own good. In everyway.” He gestured with his free hand. “That pool is filled with sea-water and sea-water is good for wounds, makes them heal faster. The exercise is very gentle. I’ll make sure he swims very slowly. Each day, he’ll do just a little more and within a month he’ll be fully fit. Believe me, I know these things.”

“Why the hurry?” she snapped. “Why not let him take his time?”

He sighed. “Because a gunshot wound is not like any other wound. It’s mental as well as physical. If he lies around doing nothing, it will prey on his mind.”

“Why are you doing all this anyway?” she asked bitterly. “Why are you training him with guns and things? He’s only a boy after all.”

His voice rose in anger. “He’s not a boy! But he will be again, if he’s mollycoddled after what he’s been through.”

She laughed derisively.

“Mollycoddled! For God’s sake, you wouldn’t even let me go and see him in hospital, or anybody else. What the hell have you got in store for that boy?”

“He’s a man,” he snapped back. “And remember the contract. No questions.”

“You’re a bastard,” she said. “And you’re hurting my arm.”

He released his grip and stood back, saying, “Make up your mind, either go along with it or leave now.”

“I won’t leave,” she answered fiercely, “but I will move into the spare bedroom. I can hardly stand to be in the same room as you, let alone the same bed, even though you never touch me.”

She turned and strode out of the kitchen.

After she had moved her clothes into the spare bedroom she came out onto the patio. Michael was sitting in the pool with the water up to his neck. Creasy was sitting close to him, at the edge, with his legs in the water. They were talking quietly.

She walked over and said curtly, “I’m going out. I’ll be back in time to make lunch.”

Michael looked up and smiled at her and said, “Don’t worry, I did four lengths and I feel fine.”

Creasy said nothing, he just looked down at the water.

Laura was mopping the tiled floor of the lounge when Leonie came in, brushing aside the fly net.

Laura saw the look on her face and immediately asked, “What happened?”

“I hate the bastard,” Leonie said. “I’m sorry, Laura, but you’re the only person on this bloody island I can talk to.” Then she burst into tears.

Five minutes later they were sitting on the patio. Laura was pouring coffee and Leonie pouring out her heart.

The Gozitan woman listened in silence. She heard how it had all come about. The Theatrical Agency, the marriage contract, which stipulated just six months and the registry wedding. Also the total lack of any physical contact between Creasy and Leonie.

“He’ll end up killing the boy,” she finished bitterly. “That bastard has no heart…none at all.”

“He does have a heart,” Laura answered gently. “It’s just that most times he locks it away in cold storage.”

Leonie snorted and said, “Well as far as I’m concerned, the keys have been thrown away. I’d leave today, if it wasn’t for Michael. Even if it did mean losing my flat in London. What on earth has he got planned for that boy?”

“I don’t know,” Laura answered, “but in some ways, Michael’s very much like Creasy.” She shrugged and said, “Before the accident I didn’t see you show any emotion towards Michael. Obviously that’s changed or you wouldn’t be here now. You’d better ask yourself what your feelings really are for him.”

That produced a silence. Leonie looked out over Comino, then gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Maternal,” she muttered. “I don’t believe it but my thoughts are bloody maternal.”

Laura smiled and poured more coffee. “That’s natural,” she said. “You sat up for two nights and watched a boy who you thought was going to die. Did you cry when you knew he was going to live?”

“Yes.”

“Did you sit by his bed, hour after hour, holding his hand, after he became conscious?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s natural. You look on him as a boy, perhaps a replacement for your own son, and Creasy looks on him as a man. That’s why you hate him.”

“What am I going to do?” Leonie asked mournfully.

Laura’s voice became brisk. “You’re going to see out your six month contract. You’re not going to interfere with Creasy’s physical treatment of Michael. Believe me, on that score he does know best. Twice in his life I’ve nursed him back from the edge of death. In this very house. Perhaps nursed is too strong a word, but I cooked him good and healthy food and watched him put himself back together again. He knows what the human body can and cannot take.”

“It’s going to be hell living in that house,” Leonie said.

Laura shook her head. “Only if you make it so. I know Creasy. He will act as though the argument never happened. Life will continue in the same way as before the accident but only if you make it so.”

“If only I knew something about the man,” Leonie said resentfully, “it might make it easier, but he never talks about himself and neither does anybody else. He’s just a bloody robot.”

Laura patted Leonie on the shoulder and said reassuringly, “It’s not a long time. Do not tell Creasy that you talked to me about the marriage arrangement.” She smiled. “But if he asks, tell him that you told me he’s a bastard. He’ll understand that.”

Leonie’s returned smile was wan. “Your daughter must have loved him very much,” she said. “Or else she had more patience than anyone else I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, she did love him, very much,” Laura answered. “And believe me, she had no more patience than I do.” She smiled, “And as everyone knows, I have very little. The fact is that he loved her in the same way and whatever Creasy does, it’s always one hundred per cent.”

She stood up and said, “I have to get back to the bloody housework now, on this island it’s still a man’s world.”

Leonie rose, kissed her on the cheek and said warmly, “Thanks, Laura, I’ll try to follow your advice.”

Laura walked her through the house to the front door.

“See you Saturday night.”

“Saturday night?”

Laura smiled. “Yes, it’s Joey’s engagement party up at Maria’s parents’ house in Nadur. It will be a good party.”

There were very few things that had caused Creasy trepidation in all his years. Laura Schembri in a temper could be included among them. It was three days after Michael had returned from hospital. After lunch, Creasy had left him and Leonie sunning themselves by the pool, and gone to help Joey work on the farmhouse.

After two hours, while they sweated in the hot sun, Laura had walked down the path, carrying a bucket containing ice and four bottles of beer. Creasy had been working on a wall, and watched her approach. His mind went back five years. Instead of Laura, he saw Nadia. It was only a few days after he first met her. He had been rebuilding a limestone wall with Paul, and Nadia had walked down the same path carrying the same bucket, with cold beers in it. It had been the start of everything.

But his memories were washed away as soon as Laura reached them. She put down the bucket and said to Joey curtly, “Go and take a swim, Joey…make it a long one.”

The young man looked at his mother’s face and turned away without a word. Creasy jumped down from the wall and said bluntly, “Laura, don’t start on at me about Michael. I’ve had enough of that shit already from Leonie. I know what I’m doing. You should realise that.”

She gave him a look that would have turned a pot of boiling water into instant ice.

The tirade started with the words, “You’re not just an unfeeling, stupid, mindless, thick-skinned, thick-headed bastard, but also you happen to be my son-in-law. Now just keep your mouth shut and listen.”

He listened for the next ten minutes, leaning back against the wall, his eyes looking at her feet.

She ended by saying, “Don’t you have any feelings at all?”

Slowly, he lifted his head, looked at her eyes and said, “No. My feelings were shattered together with Nadia and Julia on Pan Am 103. The only thing left is hatred.”

“You hate everybody?”

“No. Just the ones who did it.”

“So, you have no feelings of affection for anybody?” she persisted.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he answered flatly. “The word doesn’t come into my vocabulary.”

Her expression turned from anger to great sadness. She asked, “What about me, and Paul and Joey?”

“You’re my family,” he said simply.

“What does that mean?”

His eyes were looking down at her feet again. Very softly, he said, “It means I love you…listen, you know I’m not good with words.”

He was almost quivering with embarrassment. She moved forward and put her arms around him. She was almost as tall as he was. She put her cheek against his, and said very quietly, “Creasy, we love you too. I know what you’re doing and from my heart I hope you succeed, because I know that if you don’t those evil men will never be brought to justice. Now listen to me, and I don’t want you to get upset. I said some terrible things just now. I was angry, but in a way I meant them. Now I’m going to tell you one more terrible thing…and I mean it. If Nadia were alive and saw the cold-blooded way you treat that woman, she would feel ashamed. Not for herself but for you.”

They both remained still, like a frozen tableau against the wall, and slowly she pulled her head back and looked into his eyes.

She saw the pain. Fathomless pain. Again she laid her cheek against his. After a while his arms enclosed her and she felt tears on her cheek. They were not her tears.

The change was subtle, and at first Leonie did not notice. It only became apparent at Joey’s engagement party.

She had not wanted to go, feeling that she would be an outsider at a family gathering. She told Creasy, “Why don’t you and Michael go on your own?”

He had shaken his head. “No. Joey will be upset if you don’t come.”

“Upset?” she had said in surprise.

“Yes, and so will Laura. It will be a good party.” He smiled slightly and said, “There’s another reason. It’s obligatory that I get drunk tonight. Joey will make sure of that and Pepe, Maria’s father. The party may go on late and Michael may get tired. My plan is that we take both cars. If necessary you can bring him home early. Would you mind?”

So they went and it was a good party; ages ranged from babies to grandmothers.

Engagement parties, in Gozo, are more like weddings anywhere else in the world. Rings are exchanged and the priest gives the couple his blessing. Presents covered several tables. It was a large house, with a large garden.

After admiring the presents everyone spilled out into the garden. A bar had been set up on one side and a couple of Joey’s friends manned it.

Laura was busy with Maria’s family and Michael was chatting with the younger men.

Leonie stood off to one side and had just begun to feel out of it all, when Creasy loomed up beside her, took her by the arm and said, “Come, I want you to meet somebody.” Holding her gently, he guided her through the crowd to a priest. “This is Father Louis,” he said. “We first met twenty years ago in what was then Rhodesia.”

He grinned at the priest and said, “Father Louis was a missionary. He used to convert the natives to alcohol.”

The priest grinned back and answered, “And this godless creature was my right hand man.”

He turned to Leonie and said, “I could tell you a few stories about that time.”

Then came the surprise. Cheerfully, Creasy said to the priest, “Why don’t you do that. I’ve got to go and find Paulu Zarb. The bastard promised to fix the radio on my jeep two weeks ago and I haven’t seen him since.”

He moved through the crowd and Leonie was left with the priest.

She decided to ask a question.

“How did you happen to run into Creasy?” she asked.

Then came the second surprise. The priest answered her question.

“I was running a small Mission up in the Eastern Highlands near Mozambique. At that time, the war of independence was nearing its climax. The Mission was in a dangerous and remote area. We had a unit of the Selous Scouts camped close by. They had two functions. One to guard the Mission and the other to raid rebel camps across the border. Creasy commanded that unit”