Wish You Were Dead

24

When Roy next opened his eyes, the light in the room had changed — it was less bright. He saw a large window over to his right, with a view out onto buildings. Dusk had fallen. He was dizzy; it felt as if an entire workshop of panel beaters was bashing away inside his skull. Someone was holding his right hand. He turned and saw Cleo sitting at his side, smiling at him.

‘Hi!’ he said.

‘My darling, my poor brave soldier. How are you feeling?’

It took him some moments to process the question. How was he feeling? Like shit. It was all starting to come back now. Curtis Esmonde. Monica Stokes. He’d gone through the kitchen, down into the cellar and unlocked the door. Then he was here.

Wherever here was.

He heard another familiar voice. ‘I’m sorry, boss. Shit, I’m so sorry.’

Unshaven, hair tangled, in jeans and a grey Pink Floyd T-shirt, Detective Sergeant Jack Alexander smiled down at him, sheepishly. He looked tired, with hollow rings around his eyes. ‘Thank God you’re OK, boss — I honestly thought I’d killed you.’

‘So it was you! You obviously didn’t hit me hard enough!’

Jack blushed and looked even more sheepish.

‘Where the hell am I?’

‘You’re in hospital in Nantes, darling,’ Cleo said. ‘You’ve been here overnight.’

‘Overnight?’

‘I’m really sorry, boss. I didn’t realize it was you when you came into the cellar. I thought it was one of those bastards.’

‘What about Noah, Bruno, Kaitlynn? Are they safe?’ Roy asked.

‘All good,’ Jack told him. ‘Thanks to you — less thanks to me.’

‘The doctors think you should be OK to leave later today,’ Cleo said. ‘Depending how you’re feeling. They want to do another brain scan, just to be sure.’

‘Yeah, they couldn’t find it last time, boss,’ Jack said.

‘Haha!’ Roy replied, weakly. And was pleased to see Cleo grin.

‘And then we go back to the chateau?’ he asked.

‘Happily, not,’ she replied. ‘It’s all sealed up as a crime scene.’

‘Some holiday this, eh?’ Roy said.

‘The local police here have been wonderful,’ she said. ‘They’ve found us a gorgeous country house hotel, with a big pool and loads of luxury. Kaitlynn is there now with Noah and Bruno.’

He was slowly starting to feel more human, but he had a raging thirst. ‘Water — could I have water?’ He struggled to sit up.

‘I’ll do it!’ Cleo said. She picked up a remote and pressed a button. Immediately the back of the bed began to rise, until Roy was sitting almost upright.

Cleo held a paper cup to his lips, and he drank the cold water, gratefully.

‘So, tell me,’ he said, ‘what happened after Jack decided to play baseball with my head?’

‘God, it was terrible. We both thought he’d killed you. We freed the real Vicomte and Vicomtesse — such a sweet old couple. They’re in a terrible state of shock. They tried to phone an ambulance and the police, but it turned out the phone line had been cut and the internet router smashed. Their car wouldn’t start and Jack’s and yours had been moved to a stable block and disabled.’

‘Courtesy of my old buddies Curtis Esmonde and Monica Stokes?’

‘Presumably. Jack and Bruno went off on foot and eventually managed to flag down a car, and the driver called the police and an ambulance. Do you remember that both Curtis Esmonde and Monica Stokes are dead?’

‘So sad, such lovely people, they will be missed — not!’ He was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘Shit, I’m sorry, darling. This is all my bloody fault.’

‘Don’t be silly! Your fault? No way.’

‘How the hell did they find out where we were? That’s what I’d like to know.’ It was all coming back to him now. The photograph on the wall. ‘They’d stayed at the hotel a couple of months ago. When did we decide to go there?’

‘Back in February.’

‘They must have found out, somehow.’ He shrugged. ‘We did all the bookings online — maybe they hacked us?’

‘Maybe,’ she agreed. ‘I spoke to Glenn yesterday — he rang your phone — and I answered and told him what had happened. He made some calls, and said that neither Esmonde nor Stokes should ever have been released. All the time they were in prison they were telling other inmates they were going to get you when they came out. But do you want the good news?’

‘There’s good news?’

She grinned and nodded eagerly. ‘Glenn went to see the Chief Constable. She’s signed you off until you are fully recovered. So we can have a proper holiday now, and it’s a really great place. I think you’re going to love it. A beautiful old manor house — but really modern inside and lovely staff. There’s an indoor and outdoor pool. Tennis courts. Bikes we can borrow. And it’s surrounded by vineyards. Just gorgeous!’

‘Sounds it.’

‘And I have strict instructions from Glenn — you’re not to even think about work. He’s told me to take away your phone!’

‘Cheeky bugger! Speaking of that, where is my phone? It needs charging.’

Cleo tapped her handbag. ‘In here — and your thoughtful wife has charged it for you.’

He reached out with his right hand. ‘Let me just have a quick look and check for anything urgent.’

She gave him a stern look.

‘Just one quick check and then I’ll switch the damned thing off,’ Roy begged.

‘Promise?’

‘Scout’s honour!’

With some reluctance, she dug in her bag and produced it. Just as she handed it to him, it pinged with the new mail tone. He stared at it for some moments, then grinned broadly. ‘Well, look at this!’

‘What is it?’ she asked, suspiciously.

‘It’s an automated email from the chateau!’

‘What?’

‘From the wonderful Château-sur-L’Évêque! Asking if we’ve enjoyed our stay!’

‘You are joking?’

Roy held the phone up and Cleo read the message aloud. ‘The Vicomte and Vicomtesse du Carne de Chabrolais hope you have enjoyed your recent stay in our beautiful Château-sur-L’Évêque. We would be deeply obliged if you were to place your favourable comments in a review on TripAdvisor.’

She handed the phone back to Roy and he read the message again himself. Then he gave her a playful look. ‘Any thoughts?’

She rocked her head to one side, then the other. ‘Um. Nothing’s immediately jumping out at me. You?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve got it. I know what to write.’

‘Uh-huh?’

‘Visit the beautiful Château-sur-L’Évêque. Enjoy its isolation, its wonderful hospitality. Truly, you will have... the holiday to die for!’