The Ben Hope Collection: 6 BOOK SET. Scott Mariani

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      Leigh froze. ‘What about Oliver?’

      Ben glanced away from the foggy road.

      ‘Some detective called from Vienna,’ Pam said. ‘I’ve got his name here-hold on-it’s Kinski. Detective Markus Kinski. Wanted to talk to you. What’s this all about?’

      ‘Did he say any more?’

      ‘Didn’t want to talk to me. But it sounded important. He left a number to call. Said it was safe to call him. Are you in some kind of trouble, Leigh?’

      ‘Just give me the number, Pam.’

      Pam read it out. Leigh grabbed a pen from her bag and scribbled it. She reassured Pam again then ended the call and switched the phone off. She thought for a minute. ‘Shit.’

      Ben looked round. ‘Well, what did she say?’

      ‘We’re in the papers. Someone at the Sheldonian must have sent in their snap of us hoping to make a bit of money.’

      ‘The joys of fame.’

      ‘It has its downsides.’

      ‘This is why I was concerned about travelling with you,’ he said. ‘You should have gone to my place.’ He drummed the steering wheel with his fingers. ‘Never mind. No use worrying about it. What was that about Oliver?’

      She told Ben about the call from the detective. ‘What do you think he wants?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Maybe instead of going to Ravenna we should drive on to Austria to see him. It might be something important.’

      ‘Then again, it might be another trap.’

      ‘Come on, Ben, I can’t go on avoiding the police forever, can I? At some point I’m going to have to go to them. If someone murdered Oliver…’

      ‘I understand. You want justice.’

      ‘Yes. I want my brother’s murderer to be brought to trial. Don’t you?’

      ‘I want my friend’s murderer to pay.’

      ‘Meaning what?’

      ‘I don’t trust the system. I do things my own way.’

      ‘I noticed,’ she said.

      ‘It’s what works.’

      ‘My idea of justice isn’t a bullet in the head.’

      ‘I don’t like it any more than you do.’

      ‘But that is what you do. Isn’t it?’

      Ben said nothing.

      There was silence for a while. Leigh watched the foggy road and listened to the rhythm of the wipers.

      It was all so overwhelming, so alien. She felt as though she was spinning away from reality, wandering without a map or a compass. At times she could hardly believe any of this was really happening. She thought about the life she’d left behind, the people and the routine that were back there in the real world waiting for her. They seemed a million miles away. Her life had been hectic, crazy, a constant blur of travel and endless rehearsals and performances, one opera house and hotel after another. But it had been organized and safe.

      Now all that had fallen apart. Would things ever go back to the way they’d been? Where was this going to end? She rested her head in her hands.

      Ben passed her the flask. ‘Have some.’

      ‘I think I will.’ She took several long sips. ‘You get used to this stuff,’ she said, passing it back to him.

      ‘Tell me about it.’ He drank some as well.

      She felt a little better. ‘So what about this Detective Kinski?’ she said.

      ‘If you want to see him, we’ll see him. But first we need to find Arno. Maybe he can help us to make some sense out of this mess.’

      They reached Ravenna sometime after ten in the evening and found a little pensione in the outskirts. Ben checked in as Mr Connors and let them assume Leigh was his wife. They didn’t ask for papers and were happy with cash up front. The landlady took them up the stairs. She unlocked a door, handed them the key and left them alone.

      The room was small and simple. ‘Only one bed,’ Leigh said. It was a double, and it took up most of the space.

      ‘I just asked for a room,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know.’ He dumped his haversack on an armchair and opened a creaky wardrobe. There were some spare blankets in it. He threw them down in a heap on the floor. ‘I have to be in the same room as you, Leigh. I can’t sit outside your door all night.’

      ‘You don’t have to sleep on the floor,’ she said. ‘We can share the bed. If you want to, that is.’

      ‘Chris might not be too pleased about that,’ he replied, and immediately wished he hadn’t said it.

      She frowned. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’

      ‘Nothing. Forget it. I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s no big deal. I’ve slept on a million floors.’

      ‘No, what did you mean about Chris?’

      ‘Let’s not talk about it.’

      ‘You’re talking about what happened on the Isolde, aren’t you? What did you think you saw?’

      ‘Look, it’s none of my business what goes on between you and Chris.’

      ‘Nothing at all goes on between us.’

      ‘OK, that’s fine.’

      ‘It’s over between me and Chris,’ she said. ‘It’s been over for years.’

      ‘You seemed to be getting on pretty well together.’ He knew he was saying too much, digging himself into a hole and sounding a lot more like a jealous lover than he cared to admit.

      She flushed. ‘It wasn’t what it looked like.’

      ‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me.’ He pulled a bottle of wine out of his bag and started opening it. ‘Want some?’

      She shook her head. ‘You drink it. And I’m not justifying myself.’ She sighed. ‘All right, it’s true that Chris wants to get back together with me,’ she admitted. ‘That’s what you saw. But the feeling is definitely not mutual, and it’s not going to happen.’ She kicked off her shoes and reclined on the bed. ‘When it’s over, it’s over. It’s never a good idea to go back.’ She glanced at Ben.

      He blew the dust out of a glass on the bedside table and filled it with wine. Knocked it back and filled it up again. ‘I think you’re right,’ he said. ‘It’s never a good idea to go back.’

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