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“Where?” Fletch asked.
“Back that way,” the driver said, pointing.
They headed into the village. It never ceased to amaze Fletch how close small, quaint villages were to London itself. Sure, there were plenty of highways, but just off them, down a country road, quintessential cozy hamlets could be found. A check with the underground station attendant revealed no one had purchased a ticket, nor had a woman matching Claire’s description used a pass or even entered the station.
“You’ve got it bad, son,” said the older man who sold tickets and kept his eye on things to ensure no one rode for free.
“What do you mean?”
The man looked at him and grinned. “No man describes a woman in that kind of detail or in those kinds of glowing terms unless he’s gone off the deep end for her. Don’t get me wrong; if you feel that way, go after her. Don’t let her get away. My Emily did that. She was convinced she was going to be a big movie star, but I didn’t give up. I chased after her with all my friends saying I was pussy-whipped. Maybe I was. I just knew I wasn’t going to give her up. When I finally found her, some ‘casting director’ was trying to have his way with her. I put an end to that, gathered her up, and brought her home.”
Fletch smiled. “I hope you punched the guy.”
“I beat the little shit to within an inch of his life. Emily and I have been happily married for close to fifty years. We have three children and seven grandchildren. It hasn’t always been easy. We’ve had our share of fights, but it’s been worth it. So, like I said, go find your girl.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.”
He’d gone back out to the driver. “Not there; hasn’t been there. Any thoughts?”
“Not really, but we can do one of those grid searches.”
Fletch grinned and leaned back in his seat. Where the hell had she gotten herself off to?
“What’s that?” Fletch asked, pointing towards a little piece of what passed for the main road that seemed to dip down over the small overpass they were on.
The driver followed the road as it curled down and went back under the road they’d been on. His driver slowed and Fletch rolled down the two back windows so he could see without the obscurity of the heavily tinted glass. He searched the area and could find no sign of her.
Sitting back, he sighed. “She’s not here. I’m not sure where she is or how she got there, but she’s gone. Let’s head back to the Savoy.”
Once back at the venerable hotel, he’d gone up to his room, changed into jeans, a sweater, and a pair of cowboy boots and taken the underground back out to Greenwich. She had to come home sometime.
He located her house with the use of his cell phone, several articles he had showing pictures of her house, and her home address that he’d obtained through one of his Scotland Yard contacts. He was there when a car not belonging to Claire had turned up and she and her friend had exited the car and gone inside.
He watched for the better part of the evening before deciding they were in for the night and heading back into London. He managed to snap a picture of her friend and had given it to his tech guy, Carter Hall, to put it through facial recognition. This morning, the identification of the woman had come back—Mia Kelly. She had no record, not so much as a speeding ticket. Fletch had set his guy to find what he could.
There wasn’t much there. The only interesting tidbit had been that Mia and Claire had been roommates at a Swiss boarding school. Nothing to raise an eyebrow there. Mia Kelly was old money from Irish nobility. Mia’s job, as far as anyone could tell was, as a freelance software tech.
Fletch was headed into the museum as numerous people seemed to be exiting. He caught sight of Claire as she helped an elderly lady down the stairs. With the throng of people, it would have been hard for the woman Claire was assisting to reach one of the handrails, so instead, she allowed Claire to assist her.
He made his way toward Claire, finally catching hold of her arm as she reunited her charge with the woman’s family. He was able to grasp her arm before she could get away. Leaning down he bussed her cheek with his lips, inhaling her intoxicating scent. The old man at the station had been right; he had developed a real thing for Claire. He needed to get inside, yet he had been drawn to her like steel to a magnet; or was it more like a moth to a flame?
“I can’t really talk, but I want to. Did you come to see me?” he said, hoping he didn’t sound quite as desperate and hopeful to her as he did to himself.
She laughed. “No, you arrogant bastard, I came to see Pennington and told him I felt it was imperative that we inform the Commission about the paintings. He agreed with me and I’m going to draft a joint memorandum to them, but I was hoping at least to give you my apology.”
“I was hoping for more than that,” he said, thinkingso much more than that. “Agree to have dinner with me.”
He’d been hoping to engage her interest for the afternoon, take her to dinner at the Savoy and then get her upstairs to his room, get her naked, and fuck her so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow morning. He’d had a miserable night, tossing, turning, and missing her, which was stupid. How could he miss having her in bed to make love to all night when he had yet to have her? That was going to change today if he had anything to say about it.
“I don’t know, Fletch.”
She seemed unsure, when she’d seemed so sure before. Why was that? What had caused this reversal in his fortune.
“I do. I’ll be sure enough for both of us. I’ve got to get inside…”
The alarm started to sound, blaring its clarion call for all to hear. Now what?This cursed necklace was going to be the end of me, he thought as his dick throbbed. Being around Claire seemed to have that effect on him.
Claire seemed unsure of herself or how to respond in a way that she hadn’t before. What had her on the edge and how could he use that to his advantage?
