Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(48)

‘Thanks, Tony, I appreciate it.’ I hang up and turn to Ellen. ‘He’ll get back to us.’

‘But does he think that Layla has come back, that she’s alive?’

‘I think he thinks it’s worth looking into.’

She gives a small smile. ‘It seems a lot more real now that we’ve told somebody official. I began to wonder if we were mad to think that Layla had come back. What I don’t understand is why she’s hiding. I can’t stop wondering what she actually wants.’

‘We’ll have to wait and see.’ I get to my feet. ‘I need to do a couple of things. See you for lunch?’

In the office, I think about phoning Tony back and telling him about all the other dolls I’ve found, including the one with the smashed head. But if I’m going to go that far, I’ll have to tell him about the emails, as there’s no point him only having half the story. In the end, I decide to wait until he phones me back. If he says that what they’ve got to go on isn’t enough to spend time looking for Layla, then I’ll tell him the rest.

It’s a long morning. I take a look at the markets but I need to be in a good place to trade and today isn’t one of those days. I look for something to distract me and remember that I’m meant to be going to see Mick.

‘Just popping to see Mick,’ I tell Ellen. ‘See if he wants to come over for a drink.’

‘That’s nice of you,’ Ellen says approvingly.

He doesn’t take as long answering the door this time and I’m relieved to see that his hands are free.

‘Sorry about this morning,’ I begin. ‘I didn’t realise it was quite so early. I was just wondering if you saw anybody hanging round outside the house this morning, you know, when you were standing at the window.’

He shakes his head. ‘Can’t say I did but I wasn’t there long. I’d just opened the curtains when I saw you, and then Fiona called me. A couple walked past but they didn’t stop.’

‘Past your house or mine?’ I ask.

‘Yours.’

‘I don’t suppose you saw them leave something on the wall, did you?’

‘Not to my knowledge. Unless they came back once I’d gone. You could always ask Mrs Jeffries, although she tends to sit in her conservatory out the back.’

I nod. ‘Well, thanks, Mick. How’s your wife doing?’

He shrugs. ‘No change.’

‘Well, if you ever feel like having a drink, just pop over. We’re usually in.’

‘Thanks.’ He gives a rueful smile. ‘You never know, I might take you up on your offer one day.’

As I cross back over the road, I think about the couple who walked past our house, wondering why I had dismissed them without a second thought. I should at least have asked Mick if the girl – woman, I remind myself – had red hair. But I don’t want to believe that Layla has someone in her life. If she did, why would she be playing these games?

The rest of the day passes unbelievably slowly. Then just before I go to bed, I check my emails and see that one has come in from Layla. I think about not opening it but as always, curiosity gets the better of me. There’s just one word.





TEN





FORTY-THREE

Layla

The day I gave Finn his ten-day ultimatum, I picked up my next consignment of Russian dolls from the post office in Cheltenham. As I carefully unwrapped each of the ten dolls, a pleasing image came to mind. Ten little Russian dolls, lined up on the wall. It reminded me of the song Ellen and I used to sing when we were young, about ten green bottles hanging on a wall. And how, if one green bottle should accidentally fall, there’d be nine green bottles hanging on the wall. I felt a surge of excitement. What if I did a countdown? The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.

The voice liked it even more.





FORTY-FOUR

Finn

We’re almost into August so business is slow. I spend the morning on the phone to Harry, talking about investments, looking at what our competitors are doing, which funds are working and which ones aren’t. Later, feeling hungry, I wander back to the house and as I go into the kitchen, I see a note on the table.



I’ve gone to do some shopping. If you’d like to join me for lunch, give me a call xx

I glance at the clock on the oven and see that it’s already two thirty, which means Ellen must have left sometime in the morning. I don’t know when the last time was that I actually came out of my office to have lunch with Ellen. The days of meeting in the kitchen at one o’clock have long gone. Ellen used to come and fetch me but she doesn’t any more and it bothers me less than it should.

At first, I thought the email Layla sent last Sunday saying TEN, coupled with the Russian doll she left on the wall, was her way of reminding me that I had ten days to do whatever it was she was expecting me to do, even though I’d told her it would never happen. But the next morning, when I went downstairs to give Peggy her breakfast, I found another brown envelope lying on the mat along with the rest of the mail. Realising what it was, I stooped to pick it up. Like the last one, it was addressed to me.

I could hear Ellen moving about upstairs, so I stuffed the envelope under my shirt and went through to the kitchen. I knew it contained a Russian doll but I didn’t know if it had its head smashed in, like the last one I received. I didn’t want to risk opening it where Ellen might see me, so I went to my office, tore open the envelope quickly and shook the contents onto my desk – one Russian doll, its head mercifully intact. Breathing a sigh of relief, I pushed it quickly into the back of my drawer. It was only when I received an email that evening which said NINE, that I realised I was caught up in a macabre countdown.