The Widowmaker Read online

  Glenn Smallwood had struck again!

  * * * *

  Glenn walked Raul to his room, one door from Glenn's, and left him there. “See you in the morning,” he said, opening his own door. Raul nodded and disappeared, leaving Glenn halfway through the entrance to his suite.

  He paused, undecided. Sleep was essential, but he felt too restless. The conversation with Raul had woken too many doubts and the Douglas home was just around the corner. He could walk there in minutes. A few words and Lexie would be in his arms...

  He stepped back and closed the door, pocketed the key and turned towards the hotel entrance, striding purposely along the carpeted hall. The reception area was deserted except for the girl at the desk and he acknowledged her smile automatically.

  "Good luck tomorrow,” she said. “We're all hoping you'll win."

  "Thank you. I've got some stiff competition."

  "My older brother works at the Douglas yard,” she said. “He met you at the party. His name's Chris."

  Glenn looked at her face. “A tall man. Hair a little darker than yours?” The girl was a strawberry blonde.

  "That's him. He went to school with Lexie."

  Glenn remembered Chris. Lexie had described him afterwards as too steady for her crowd, a solid country boy who loved working outdoors. “He's buying a house on the new estate?” The girl was being pleasant and deserved a proper response.

  She nodded. “It should be ready in time. Carla's due in eight weeks."

  "I remember her too.” A picture formed in his mind. “She wore a blue lace dress and came here from Sydney."

  The girl beamed and, pleased by his courtesy, extended the conversation. She was bored by the nightshift, Glenn guessed, and he lingered a while, his need for Lexie softening.

  It allowed him to be distracted by a familiar figure when he reached the street. Harry Doherty was drunk again, arguing with a couple on the lawn opposite. It ended with Harry receiving a shove to send him careering towards the pier and the noisy crowd at its approaches. Glenn followed, impelled by a nagging sense of responsibility. He'd met his father, Craig, and liked him.

  Harry's stagger became more deliberate as the automatic guidance system processed by all alcoholics fought the haze in his brain and brought him erect. Glenn looked around, guessing Jack Welch would have a man posted on this trouble spot; his father had spoken well of the sergeant's policing skills. He spotted no one, but didn't expect to. If trouble started, he'd have to rely on a man being there.

  Dozens of motorbikes parked on the curve leading down to the pier warned him the crowd might be a little rough. They weren't “Bikies” in any vicious sense, just men who enjoyed the freedom of motorcycling, but any outsider could trigger a mob and Harry was drunk as well.

  The benevolence of the God who looks after drunks carried Harry through the outer ring of revelers. One man who objected caught a glimpse of Glenn following Harry, recognized him and stood aside. Curious, he trailed behind them after they passed.

  They were halfway along the pier when Harry's luck ran out and he bumped into a man almost as drunk, triggering a string of obscenities and focusing the attention of the group. Glenn increased his stride. Intervention was better before the situation spiraled out of control.

  "I've come to take him home,” he said. “He's with me.” He over-rode the angry mutter of the others and all eyes, Harry's included, turned to him.

  "He's the one who set the track record today,” the man who'd followed Glenn chipped in. “He's come after the drunk."

  The light pole at the edge of the pier cast enough light for Glenn to be identified.

  "He's right,” another voice chimed in. “He signed my program and chatted with my son at the track."

  The mutter changed and became friendly.

  "Good luck tomorrow,” someone called. “Show ‘em how it's done."

  "Thanks.” Glenn was relieved. “I'll get Harry home first."

  "Bastard!” Harry was not happy. He lunged at Glenn, taking a mighty roundhouse sweep.

  Glenn sidestepped automatically and let Harry's momentum take him past. The sickening thud as Harry's head struck the lamppost caught him by surprise, slowing his reaction so his despairing grasp closed just short of Harry's shirt as the drunk pitched head first into the water.

  "Shit!” Glenn swore feelingly. “Take these.” He handed his wallet and cell phone to the man who'd followed him and jumped into the water. He didn't know how deep it was, so diving was out.

  The cold water was a shock and deep enough he didn't touch bottom. The light from the pier showed Harry floating limply, face down, two strokes away. He reached out and grasped him by the hair, turning him face up, and guiding him into a life-saving position with his head lying on Glenn's shoulder.

  "There's a landing under the second light pole,” Jack Welch's voice called. “Can you handle him?"

  Glenn checked Harry's breathing and pulse before he replied. “Yes. He's breathing and his pulse is strong. I'll meet you there.” He could see the landing in the beam of Jack Welch's torch.

  The first fifty strokes were easy, but then Harry regained consciousness and began thrashing about, trying to take Glenn's arm.

  "Take it easy, Harry. You banged your head on the light pole. Just relax. We're almost there."

  It didn't work. Harry's struggles became increasingly violent and Glenn was thrust beneath the surface several times.

  "Hold on, I'm coming.” A heavy splash marked Jack's entry in the water and a moment later, he was at Glenn's side. “I've got a lifesaving float. Hang onto him while I strap it on.” Jack beat Harry's hands away and fastened the buoyancy device around his chest so the two floats supported him. “I've got two men on the other end of the line. They'll tow us to the landing."

  Jack raised his hand in a signal and Glenn felt the line go taunt, towing the three men towards the landing.

  Two uniformed policemen were waiting, hands outstretched to take Harry, and Glenn was glad of the promised assistance. Harry was still being difficult, thrashing around, spluttering obscenities and vowing vengeance on an unjust world.

  "Shut up, you damned fool, or I'll drown you myself,” Jack threatened the second time Harry's struggles thrust him below the surface. “Take the weight on that line,” he told his men. “We'll keep him clear of the piling."

  Easier said than done. Harry's struggles swung Glenn against the piling and the tension on the lifting rope ground his back against the sharp mussel shells.

  "Heave!” The order came from above and Harry was plucked from Glenn's grasp, the final indignity a glancing blow from a flailing foot still shod with work boots.

  "You right, Mate?” Hands reached to grasp Glenn's arms and he was lifted from the water, his shirt tearing as the mussel shells gouged his back.

  A police jacket went round his shoulders. “The ambulance is on its way. Can you walk to the end of the pier?"

  Glenn nodded. “How's Jack?"

  "Bloody disgusted!” Jack answered for himself. “I'll kill Harry before I'm done. Let's get him to the ambulance before I'm tempted to do it now."

  The crowd made way for the group, Harry supported on either side by two policemen with a bedraggled Glenn and Jack following in their wake. The flashing lights of the ambulance waited at the shore end of the pier.

  "Deal with Harry first,” Jack instructed the paramedics. “We're just wet.” Then he saw the blood staining Glenn's light-colored slacks and changed his mind. “At least, I am. You'd better check this one as well."

  Half an hour later, Glenn sat opposite Harry Doherty in the emergency room of the Warley Hospital, both wrapped in blankets and waiting to be checked by the resident at Jack Welch's insistence. It was understandable, for the younger man looked a sad case, his face bruised and blood seeping from the pad covering the cut above his hairline. Most of it had soaked in, but a little stained the growing pool of water beneath his chair, probably leaching from his wet clothes, for he'd bled profusely
at first.

  "Him first.” Jack had returned with the Resident and jabbed his thumb at Harry.

  He turned away as the doctor knelt in front of Harry and sat down at Glenn's side. “I wish you'd let him drown. It'd save me a swag of trouble."

  Glenn didn't bother to reply, remembering how quickly Jack had joined them in the water.

  "Saw Lexie earlier. She looked a bit down."

  This grabbed Glenn's attention and he turned to study the older man's face. His father had spoken highly of Jack, so he responded truthfully. “She's not too happy about me riding tomorrow."

  Jack nodded. “I probably made it worse then, blabbing on about your pole position."

  Glenn nodded and turned back to watch the doctor check Harry's injury.

  "Where is he?"

  They both turned at the sound of Craig Doherty's demand and Harry's father burst through the door, trailing a frustrated receptionist.

  "Is he all right?” Craig had eyes for no one but his son.

  "I'm checking him.” The doctor didn't bother turning. “Sit down and wait."

  Craig turned and saw he had company. “What happened?"

  "Glenn pulled him out of trouble with some visitors and Harry decided to take a swim.” Jack's explanation was a masterpiece of economy, if not entirely truthful.

  "Thanks.” Craig took the third chair and they sat like the three wise monkeys waiting for the doctor to finish with Harry, each lost in his own thoughts.

  They were still there when one of Jack's constables arrived, Raul in tow, both men bearing replacement sets of dry clothes.

  Glenn gave Raul an abbreviated account of the incident, not mentioning his contact with the piling, and waved him towards a chair. The doctor was still dealing with Harry. They'd have to wait. His mind strayed to Lexie...

  * * * *

  "Your father wanted to follow the International surfing carnivals.” Sandra's words were so far outside Lexie's expectations they sounded like nonsense, even if their conversation had meandered through a dozen topics since Lexie's revelation of the way Charles died. “He was good enough. Everybody acknowledged it, even his family."

  "Why didn't he?” The question was automatic, the words coming out without volition.

  "Me ... and his duty to his family. He was the only son.” Her expression amused Sandra. She was smiling. “He swore it would never happen to his children."

  "I can't imagine my brothers away from the Island.” Lexie wasn't arguing, just thinking aloud.

  "There's trust funds set up for each of you, no strings attached. Enough to set up a business anywhere."

  "My brothers know about this?"

  "They know your father wouldn't bind them to the yard if they wanted to go."

  The sound of the front door opening turned them both and they were facing the entrance when Tommy came into the kitchen. “You're missing all the excitement,” he said. “Glenn rescued Harry Doherty from a mob on the pier and had to dive into the water to save him. They've taken them to the hospital."

  Lexie leapt to her feet, her mind filled with fear. “I-I must go to him."

  "Hold your horses.” Tommy barred her way. Glenn got wet, that's all. Harry's the one with the sore head. Craig and Jack Welch will probably give him a sore ear to go with it. Jack went into the water too."

  "What's the fuss?” Her father was at the entrance.

  He listened while Tommy told the tale, nodding occasionally. “Glenn's right. We've sat on our hands too long with Harry. We'll discuss it with Lionel in the morning. He'll have some ideas.” He looked around the room, seeing the teacups and reaching out to test the warmth of the pot. “You've been talking a while. This is cold."

  "I'll make a fresh one.” Sandra rose to her feet.

  "Good.” Tommy slipped into her vacated chair.

  "Get your own ... and one for me.” Kieran stretched mightily. “It's not often you get to be useful."

  Lexie had reluctantly resumed her seat, acknowledging she couldn't rush to Glenn's side, especially now she knew he wasn't injured. She accepted another cup of tea and had taken her first sip when the phone rang.

  "I'll get it.” Kieran lumbered to his feet, holding out his hand to stay the others. “No one calls with good news at this time of night."

  The kitchen phone was by the door so he was in full view when he answered. “Yes ... No ... Try the hotel ... Room 122.” A long pause while he listened. “Doesn't surprise me. Good news about Harry ... We'll talk in the morning.” He hung up and turned back to the table. “That was Craig looking for Glenn. The boy gave his cell phone and wallet to a bystander before he went into the water after Harry and the bloke's just turned up at the hospital. Craig's going to deliver it personally to say ‘Thanks.’ Harry has three stitches in his head, but the x-rays show no damage. They'll keep him in over-night and do some more tests tomorrow."

  He sat down, took one sip of his tea to test the temperature and then downed the lot. “I've still got an early morning,” he said, when he finished. “I'm off to bed."

  Tommy and Sandra followed suit.

  "I'll clear up.” Lexie was already on her way to the sink.

  "Thanks, Love. Don't stay up too long.” Sandra paused at the door. “Everything will work out for the best."

  Lexie nodded, even if she didn't believe it was true. The problem was hers, not her parents ... although Kieran had known Glenn's room number well enough to produce it without a pause when Craig Doherty asked and Sandra had steered their conversation very skillfully before Tommy arrived. She smiled at her mother. “Don't worry. I've grown up a lot in the last few days."

  "True.” Sandra gave her a last smile and disappeared down the hall.

  Lexie finished the job and switched off the light, her revived familiarity with the house allowing her to navigate the hallway with surety. Her jacket was still on the hallstand and she donned it before slipping through the front door and onto the porch. The lights on the Esplanade outlined the shape of the Continental for her and she tried to identify Glenn's room.

  * * * *

  The knock at the door caught Glenn in the bathroom. He'd found a couple of scrapes from the pier pilings the doctor had missed and was washing them clean before applying the astringent antiseptic the hospital had supplied.

  "Coming!” He wrapped himself in a towel and padded, dripping water, to the door. It was probably Raul, wanting to continue the post-mortem of the pier incident.

  Craig Doherty was a surprise. “I brought these.” Harry's father thrust Glenn's cell phone and wallet towards him.

  "Thanks.” Glenn looked past him. The hall was empty. “Come in. I'll be with you as soon as I'm dry."

  "You get those rescuing my son?” Craig indicated the scrapes on Glenn's back.

  Glenn glanced down. “Yes. A wave threw me against the piling when we were lifting him onto the landing. Nothing serious."

  "It won't slow you down tomorrow?"

  "Not enough to matter.” Glenn told the truth, even if Craig didn't understand. Raul had taken much more convincing, wanting him to withdraw from the race.

  "I'm glad.” Craig hesitated. “I want to thank you again. Harry's made himself a bit of a nuisance as far as you're concerned. You didn't have to do anything."

  "I just happened by at the right moment. The others would have done it, if I'd not been there."

  Craig shook his head. “I doubt it. I read Jack's preliminary report."

  "No matter.” Glenn shrugged. “It's done. Harry all right?"

  The question diverted Craig long enough for the awkwardness to pass and Glenn could thank him for returning his wallet and the cell phone. A gentle hint that he needed his sleep was enough to see him out the door, allowing Glenn to return to his patch-up job.

  Satisfied that no more could be done, Glenn donned his pajamas and slipped into the hotel dressing gown. A last breath of fresh air on the balcony would help him sleep.

  He stood at the railing, staring north when a move
ment below caught his eye. He looked down just as Lexie stepped in the pool of light.

  * * * *

  Lexie felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car, desperately wanting to flee but every muscle frozen.

  "Good evening.” His voice reached her clearly, perfectly pitched to the distance. He glanced down at his watch. “Morning, actually."

  Lexie nodded, larynx frozen as well.

  "Would you like to come up?” a small pause, “or will I come down?"

  She nodded again.

  "Which?” He was smiling.

  "I'll come up.” The words startled her. She'd been ready to refuse.

  "Good.” He didn't move.

  "I wanted to make sure you were all right."

  "Then coming up's a good idea. You can check for yourself."

  This time she caught the hint of a plea and was undone. “I'm coming.” She turned away and took two normal steps before her control broke and she started running. “I'm coming!"

  He met her at the doorway but her rush carried them backwards to sprawl full-length on the bed, lips locked in a kiss neither of them wanted to break. Raul Bagnelli appearing at the door and reaching in to close it as he retreated into the corridor impinged not at all on Lexie. Her world had shrunk to the feel of Glenn's body blending with hers. There was no tomorrow, no yesterday, no past, no future, only a glorious present when her emptiness was filled with him. Impeding clothes shed themselves, for all her conscious volition, her focus so firmly fixed she wasn't aware of even her own actions.

  The tempest in her flesh sent her soaring into an eerily selfish heaven. She wanted to carry Glenn with her but there was no room for him, her feelings swamped everything, flushing away conscience, guilt, even memory, in a cleansing tide. She was Lexie reborn!

  * * * *

  "Is ‘Good Morning’ appropriate?"

  Glenn's voice had a smile in it. Lexie didn't have to open her eyes to see it. She stretched luxuriously instead. “I'm thinking about it.” She felt him move away and turned to wrap her arms around his body and hold him close. “Where are you going?"