Shores Of Love. Alex Ryder
your broken heart, no doubt.’
She ignored the sarcastic interruption and went on. ‘I drew all my savings from the bank, locked up my flat and caught the first available plane. Anyway, I spent the next two weeks swimming and lazing around on the beach and vowing that no man would ever use me or make a fool of me again.’ She paused and eyed him bitterly. ‘Of course I was wrong, as usual, wasn’t I?’
His face was unreadable and she continued reluctantly, ‘It was the day before I was due to come home when someone broke into my hotel apartment and I lost everything. Money, passport, clothes…’
She had hardly been able to believe her eyes at first when she’d seen the empty drawers and overturned mattress. She’d only been gone for ten minutes and her room had been ransacked! Whoever had done it must have climbed up on to the balcony and entered through the open window.
In a fury she had run downstairs to the reception desk and reported the break-in to the manager.
He was sympathetic but adamant that she had no claim against the hotel. ‘Madam should have made sure that the window was securely latched before she went out,’ he said. They would inform the police, of course, but there was little hope of catching the culprit and recovering her property. Surely madam had taken out insurance against this sort of thing happening?
Madam hadn’t, and she turned from the desk in dismay. With the loose change in her pocket she had barely enough left to buy lunch. And how was she going to get home tomorrow without a plane ticket? She couldn’t even think of anyone in London who could forward her a loan. With her spirits at zero she made her way outside and stood on the broad tree-lined pavement completely at a loss as to what to do now.
‘They weren’t much help, were they? I couldn’t help overhearing.’
She turned at the sound of the voice and looked at the middle-aged man who’d followed her out Instinctively on her guard, she took in his appearance. He seemed harmless enough, but you never could tell. At least he was well-dressed and groomed. The typical English gentleman abroad. Dark blazer and flannels and some sort of regimental tie over an immaculately white shirt. He had a clipped moustache and a friendly smile on his rather bland face.
‘No, they weren’t,’ she answered at last. ‘But it was my own stupid fault.’
‘Damned awkward being stranded in a foreign country,’ he sympathised. He held out his hand. ‘I’m Roger Smith. Here with my wife and a couple of friends.’
She shook hands and gave him a polite smile. ‘Avalon Rivers.’
He looked at her sadly. ‘Did they actually take everything?’
She gave a resigned nod. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get home now. My hotel room is paid for tonight but tomorrow I’ll have to sleep on the beach then try to get a job somewhere.’
He shook his head doubtfully. ‘I think you might need a work permit. As for sleeping on the beach, I wouldn’t recommend it. Far too many odd-looking characters going around.’ He paused as if he’d had a sudden inspiration. ‘Look here, Miss Rivers…I don’t know if the idea will appeal to you or not but there is a way I can help you out of your predicament. It’s entirely up to you, of course.’
Experience had taught her to be wary of unsolicited offers of help. There were usually strings attached.
As if sensing her reluctance he went on quickly, ‘The truth of the matter is that you’d be doing both my wife and me a great favour. We’re sailing back to England tonight but the girl who was doing our cooking has decided to stay on. She seems to have formed some kind of attachment to a local boy and is quite devastated at the thought of leaving him. Anyway, the position is yours if you want it.’
It sounded almost too good to be true and she said cautiously, ‘It’s a wonderful offer, Mr Smith, and I’m grateful, but I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook.’
He laughed and brushed her objection aside. ‘I admire your honesty, but you’ve nothing to worry about. We don’t go in for haute cuisine aboard the Caprice. Just plain, simple cooking. I’m sure you can manage that.’
A voice in her head was telling her to be careful. All this seemed like too much of a coincidence to sit comfortably, but she stifled it. She was in danger of becoming a distrustful cynic. Anyway, the offer and Mr Smith seemed genuine enough. If she passed up this chance she’d still be left with the problem of how to get back to England.
‘The trip shouldn’t take too long,’ he went on persuasively. ‘And of course I’ll see that you’re well paid at the end of it.’
That was enough to settle the matter and she smiled at him. ‘All right, Mr Smith. When would you like me to start?’
He rubbed his hands together briskly. ‘Good show. I’ll take you to the boat now and show you around.’
They went by taxi to the harbour where he led her down the gangway on to the deck of a motor-cruiser. She knew nothing about boats but she could tell affluence when she saw it. Beneath the bridge there was a hatchway and once they were down the short flight of steps he proudly showed her the layout. There were two large and luxuriously furnished cabins at the front. The main lounge and dining-room was amidships, and to the rear of that was the galley where the meals were prepared. A door led from the rear of the galley and he pushed it open. ‘This will be your own cabin. It’s small but I’m sure you’ll find it comfortable enough.’
She showed her appreciation with a smile. ‘It’s very nice.’
He beamed with pleasure. ‘Now, then…My wife and my friends are shopping at the moment. I’ve to meet them for lunch back at the hotel. We’ll be gone for most of the day and don’t expect to be back until late this evening.’ He fished a sheet of paper from his inside pocket and handed it to her. ‘This is a list of provisions we need. I was going to fetch them myself but this can be your first job.’ Next he handed her a card. ‘This is the name and address of the supplier. Everything has already been paid for. I’ll give you money for a taxi and you can go and collect them some time this afternoon.’
She stopped telling her tale and looked at Fraser resentfully. ‘You don’t believe a word of this, do you? You think I’m making it up as I go along.’
‘Get on with it,’ he growled impatiently. ‘At the moment I’m keeping an open mind on the matter.’
She glared at him in angry silence for a moment longer then went on, ‘Well, there were a lot of provisions. Four medium-sized crates, in fact, and I wondered why they needed so much stuff for a short trip to England. The taxi driver just left me and the crates on the quayside and I had to manhandle them aboard myself.
‘Anyway, Mr Smith and his party came back about nine-thirty. He introduced me to his wife and the other couple then he went to the bridge and I heard the engines start up. When we were clear of the harbour he came down and examined the crates. Three of them were filled with cans of peaches and he told me to lay them aside because they were a present for someone back in England. I thought it odd at the time. Whoever heard of giving tinned peaches as a present?
‘Well, everything went well until last night. I’d been keeping out of the way as much as possible and just doing my job. I wasn’t keen on the two women, anyway. In spite of their airs and graces you could tell they were a pair of hard-bitten good-time girls. They wore flash jewellery and—’
‘Never mind the women,’ snapped Fraser. ‘I’m only interested in what happened last night’
She pouted at him. ‘I’m doing my best.’ She took a deep breath then went on…
It had been the sticky patch on the galley floor that had caught her attention and she had traced the source to one of the cans of peaches. Rather than let them go to waste she had pulled the leaking can from the crate, opened it with a tin-opener and emptied the contents into a bowl. She had looked at the result and frowned. A big can and so little an amount of peaches? She had peered into the empty can and