Unfaithful (36 page)

"I needed that," Mark disentangled himself from her and yawned loudly. He glanced at her and kissed her quickly before heading into the shower.

"Let me know when the j
ob is done," Mark said just before he left. This was the worst part of having a one night stand; the awkwardness afterwards. He never knew what to say when he left. It would have been wonderful to have seen her again but he couldn't take the risk. He was sure that Savannah would understand.

"I'll let you know," Savannah replied, closing the door behind him. He strode quickly away without noticing the dangerous glint in her eyes.

Chapter 6

"That's odd," Penelope stopped in her tracks to stare at the security alarm on the wall of M&R Photography. "Did you forget to switch on the alarm before we left last night?"

"No definitely not. I specifically remember because I didn't get the code right the first time and had to check my diary to make sure it was correct." Shona glanced in concern at her friend. "Why? What's wrong?"

"The code's already been switched off."

"Try the lock."

Penelope fumbled around in her handbag before finding the keys to the heavy front door. She
inserted the key but found it was already unlocked. "Christ!" she swore under her breath. "It looks like we've been burgled."

"I think we should call the police," Shona suggested. The colour had drained from her face.

"Let's call from inside," Penelope pushed the door open and began to climb the stairs to the office.

"Pen, don't go in! It's too dangerous. What if they're still inside?"

"Don't be daft," Penelope rolled her eyes in exasperation. "They're obviously long gone, unless, of course they've decided to hang around and wait for us to make them a cup of tea."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," Shona retaliated and reluctantly followed her friend
upstairs.

They
tentatively entered the reception area and surveyed the office. It was open plan so they could immediately see if anything had been stolen. "Well, Mark's computer's gone," Penelope announced.

"The Sony laptop's missing too," Shona said.

"Rebecca's favourite Jack Yeats' painting has been stolen too. She'll be upset when she finds out they're gone. Her father gave them to her before he passed away."

"I'm calling the police," Shona announced. She picked up the telephone and rang the number to their local police station.

Detective James Leary went to investigate. Burglaries were not an unusual occurrence in Dublin, which, like other cities and big towns in Ireland, had been plagued by burglaries in recent years, especially in the aftermath of the economic downturn. Greedy criminals were even more anxious than ever to get their hands on valuables and make some quick money. He arrived at M&R Photography expecting to find a typical break-in scenario awaiting him but he quickly realised that it was not a random burglary. Immediately, his suspicions were aroused.

"There are no signs of a break-in," he said, carefully watching the reactions of Penelope and Shona.

"It seems the person who entered your office had keys and knew the alarm code, which was deactivated at 9.24 p.m. last night. Where were you both at the time?" He flipped open a blank page in his notebook and began to write.

"What is this?
!" Penelope cried. "Don't tell me you think that WE were involved?"

"I don't know what to think until I carry out further investigations," the detective replied. "Can you tell me where you were at 9.24 p.m
. last night?"

"We were together," Shona piped up quickly before Penelope had a chance to fly completely off the handle. "We sh
are an apartment together in Ballsbridge. We have the penthouse at Riverside Towers."

"Can anyone verify that?"

"Yes, Mr. Evans, the concierge saw us arriving."

"I see," the detective continued his note-taking. "Has anything been taken?"

Shona gave him a list of the stolen items. 

"I'll dispatch our Crime Scene Unit who'll further investigate the closed circuit television footage," Detective Leary advised. "I'm assuming you'll be here until this evening?"

"Yes," Penelope agreed. "We usually close at six o' clock, but we planned on finishing earlier this afternoon, maybe around half past four. We were going to drive to Westport for the weekend. Is it okay if we continue our business as usual?"

"Yes, that's absolutely fine. The team should be here by lunch time. If you think of anything else please don't hesitate to
contact me."

"Thank you," Penelope smiled weakly and walked him out.

Shona surveyed the mess. The usually pristine office was in total disarray. Paperwork and photographs were strewn everywhere and the contents of drawers and cupboards had been flung unceremoniously all over the floor. She didn't even know where to begin, so she decided to make herself an extra strong coffee instead.

"Well,
a burglary is the last thing I expected on a Friday morning," Penelope groaned.

"It certainly is
n’t a great start to the weekend," Shona sighed and stirred more sugar into her coffee. “You know what they say; bad luck comes in threes, so I wonder what else is going to happen today.”

“That’s just ridiculous superstition.”

“We’ll see,” Shona said ominously.

"I don't know how you drink such strong coffee. It looks like treacle!"
Penelope decided to change the subject.

"I need it, tr
ust me." Shona took a loud sip of her drink, as if to prove her point.

"I don't understand who would be interested in b
urgling a photography business,” Penelope mused.

"You're joking, right? The
burglars probably assumed we had expensive equipment and cameras here. Luckily Mark locked all his gear in the safe before he left for France. Besides, they did quite well; collectors would pay a lot for the paintings."

"Are you certain you set the alarm last night
before we left?"

"I'm one hundred per cent positive," Shona insisted.

"I don't understand. There were no obvious signs of a break-in; whoever did the job must have had a key and known the code. There are only four of us who have that information; Rebecca and Mark are in France and we were together, so who the hell did it?"

"Let's
leave it to the police to find out," Shona advised her friend. "We've got lots to do before we finish for the weekend." She drained the last of her coffee and began the mammoth task of tidying up.

"I agree with you, James," Detective
Dan Connolly of the Crime Scene Unit confirmed his colleague's suspicions that the burglary at M&R Photography was not a random break-in. "We couldn't find anything substantial of an evidential nature. The closed circuit television footage of the immediate area showed that the camera at the side of the building where the office was located was disabled. Two other cameras showed a car entering the area at 9.22 p.m. and parking in front of the office. However, it was impossible to see who was in the car or even how many people were there."

"It's strange," Detective
Leary was thoughtful. "Only four people had the access code and keys and every one of them can account for their whereabouts last night."

"I'm sure
something will turn up," Detective Connolly said. "It usually does."

"I'm knackered," Shona yawned loudly as she hauled her suitcase out of the car. The drive to Westport had taken longer than usual due to a serious accident on the motorway.

"Yeah, me too. I couldn't be bothered going out tonight. Why don't we order a pizza and share a bottle of wine instead of going into town?"

"Great idea." Shona
dropped her bags in the hall and switched on the central heating.

"It's cold," Penelope shivered and went
in search of a bottle of wine. "You'd never think it was almost the end of April. I wish I was in France sunning myself on Rebecca's yacht right now."

"I don't, not if we had to put up with Mark's presence." Shona poured two large glasses of
the wine which Penelope had conveniently found in the refrigerator.

"Actually, forget it. It'll be lovely and cosy here in a short while once the heating gets going." Penelope dug about in the freezer until she found her favourite
pizza; pepperoni and cheese.

"Is there anything entertaining on TV tonight?" Shona asked, flicking through the channels.

"Yes, stop right there! X Factor repeats," Penelope demanded.

"Do we have to watch it?" Shona groaned.

"Oh come on! How can you possibly resist? It's trashy television at its very best! Anyway, who needs to go out when we can spend our evening with the hunky Simon Cowell. Now he's the man for me," Penelope grinned.

"Oh my God! Simon Cowell?" Shona flung a cushion at her friend incredulously. "He's such a cliche."

"He's a very rich cliche. Besides, he's got that provocative mix of power and money with a whole lot of bad boy thrown in for good measure. He's irresistible; my ideal man."

"I think you need your eyes tested!
Have you seen how high he wears his trousers? And he's always got the same t-shirt on. You'd think with all his riches he’d hire a stylist. It just proves that money can't buy taste."

"Well, I think he's perfect," Penelope stared dreamy-eyed at the television screen while Sh
ona poured herself another large glass of wine.

"Hello," Shona picked up her mobile phone sleepily.
She'd dozed off shortly after X Factor had started. Simon Cowell's charms hadn't been enough to keep her awake.

"I believe you've lost a few computers," a woman's voice on the other end of the line replied.

"Yes," was all Shona could manage to say in response.

"I'll be at your house in five minutes," and with that the caller hung up abruptly.

"Who's that calling at this hour of the night?" Penelope glanced at her watch. It was after midnight. "We weren't expecting any visitors were we?"

"No, but it seems someone’s
on their way," Shona replied.

Penelope stared in concern at her friend's ashen face. "Shona, what's wrong? Who was that on the phone?"

"I don't know but she said she'd be here in five minutes to talk to us about the stolen computers."

"What?!" Penelope sat bolt upright. "Who the hell is she?"

"I have no idea, Pen, but this is getting creepy." She looked like she might burst into tears at any minute. "I think we should call the police."

"Maybe it's a hoax," Penelope suggested, searching for a plausible explanation. "I don't think anyone will show up her
e, not tonight anyway. It's too late."

"I don't know," Shona was doubtful. "She sounded like she meant what she said."

The shrill ringing of the front door bell made them jump. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this one way or another," Penelope got angrily to her feet and stalked out of the room. "I refuse to be intimidated in my own home!" She marched to the front door with Shona following close behind her.

"Can I help you?" Penelope asked, flinging open the door. She quickly took in the petite blonde woman who was standing in front of her and her heartbeat began to return to normal. The woman looked like she wouldn't hurt a fly. She was very pretty and her long blonde hair cascaded around her narrow shoulders. A silver-grey silk scarf was tied in an intricate knot over her expensive chocolate-brown leather jacket. Her jeans were
tucked into knee-high tan stiletto boots and a large matching handbag was slung over one shoulder. There was nothing in the least bit intimidating about her. She looked baby-faced and both Penelope and Shona began to relax.

"Yes, actually, I think you can help me," the woman replied. She spoke with an English accent, possibly from the
London area, Shona figured. Shona had spent a few years working in Solihull, which was near Birmingham’s city centre and her ear was still attuned to their different intonations. "My name is Savannah. I believe this belongs to you." She removed the missing laptop from her handbag and handed it to Penelope who stared at in surprise.

"Where did you get this?" was all she could manage to say.

"It was stolen from your office last night," Savannah replied. “Do you have any enemies?” She asked, arching an eyebrow. Penelope was too stunned to respond. “It seems you've messed with the wrong person, because somebody wants you dead.”

Shona and Penelope listened in abject horror a
s Savannah told them there was a contract on their lives and the life of Rebecca McNamara. She advised them that the contract was worth one hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling but that she wouldn't carry out the hit if they bought out the contract.