Rough Cut (7 page)

   Carter smiled. “You need to ask?”

   But it had been the end of their relationship. A couple months had passed with Carter getting updates from mutual friends to the effect that Nicole wasn’t seeing anyone and then, three months after they had broken up, she had met Andrew, and that had been that.

   Now, twenty-five years later, as Carter was driving the last few yards to his hotel and parking his car in the car park, Nicole was sitting in the hotel lounge, nervously wrapping a paper napkin round her fingers as she waited for him to arrive. She wondered if she had made the right decision about seeing him but Nicole’s hesitance owed more to shock than any reluctance to meet Carter. More than a quarter of a century earlier, she had been in love with him, passionately so. But did she want to see him again now? After all the time that had passed, and after all that had gone on between them? She wasn’t sure. And his timing was awful. Coming so soon after Rob’s death, she was struggling to come to terms with the memories she and Carter shared, memories which were flooding back as she waited for him to arrive. They had been so close, so very much in love and then, because of her father’s strong opposition to the relationship, because Carter was not French and, worse still, he was black, they had broken up.

   Despite the passage of the years, Nicole was still a good looking woman, she knew that, but she was over forty years old now and she also knew that time was always kinder to men than to women. He would be older too but with him it would probably mean that he had become more attractive, not less. He would probably look very distinguished, with some grey hair and the lines which the years had drawn on his face would give it character and depth. She had a picture in her mind’s eye of how he would look but she couldn’t help wondering if he would live up to it. When he had telephoned her from Belize, he hadn’t sounded so very different, even though his Caribbean accent had been largely superseded by an American one. When he had asked her if she wanted to meet, it could have been the Carter of long ago speaking to her.

   Nicole’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Carter’s voice at the bar. Her heart missed a beat and she got up from her chair.

   “I’m supposed to be meeting someone here at twelve o’clock,” he said to the barman, “Her name is Nicole Darrington.”

   By this time, Nicole had reached the bar.

   “Would this be the lady?” asked the barman, indicating to Carter that there was someone standing behind him.

   Carter swung round to face Nicole and his lined face broke into a wide smile, his white teeth gleaming the welcome she had hoped for.

   “Nikki!” He just said her name, the shortened version he had always used when they had been together, and wrapped her in his long arms. Her knees buckled and she hung there. After a few moments, she regained her feet and Carter let go of her. He stood back a pace, the better to look at her, before speaking.

   “Sorry!” he said. “It’s just
so
good to see you.”

   “You too,” said Nicole, and she meant it. Seeing him, holding him, hearing him were everything she had expected, and more. She was beaming too and just a little flushed.

   “Have you got a drink?” asked Carter.

   “Yes, it’s over there.”

   “Then let’s sit down. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.” Carter asked the barman to bring him a Budweiser and followed Nicole to the table where she had been waiting for him.

   “It’s been a long time, Nikki, too long.”

   “I know. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

   The silence was tangible as they both looked at each other. Awkwardly, Carter broke the silence.

   “I was sorry to hear about Andrew, even if he did steal you away from me all those years ago.” Carter smiled briefly and then looked at Nicole, pity in his eyes, as he continued, “But the news about Rob… well…”

   Nicole’s face darkened and she looked down at her hands which were resting in her lap. Carter looked at her and his heart went out to her.

   “What can I say,” he said, “You must be devastated?” Nicole nodded and looked away, tears in her eyes. Then, after a few moments, she looked back at Carter. She managed a smile but it was a thin smile. 

   The barman brought Carter’s drink to the table and disappeared quickly. As Carter lifted his glass and drank from it, Nicole took a deep breath and looked at him, the smile was gone and there were tears in her eyes as she spoke.

   “He was a wonderful boy, you know.”

   “How could he have been anything else. He had a wonderful mother.”

   Nicole pulled a photograph of her children from her handbag and passed it to Carter. “That’s a picture of him, with Eloise, his sister.”

   “She takes after her mother, too. She’s beautiful.”

   Carter handed back the picture and Nicole replaced it carefully in her handbag. Then she took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

   “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head sadly.

   “It’s OK, don’t worry,” soothed Carter as Nicole dabbed at her eyes again with the handkerchief.

   She sniffed and smiled as she looked at him. “So what brings you to England, then?” she asked, changing the subject.

   “Two things. One reason I’m here is to promote my book…” Nicole’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she interrupted him.

   “Your book!” she said, “Since when did you become a writer? I always had to help you with your essays. Your English was appalling! Even worse than mine!”

   “I know,” smiled Carter recalling the days when his command of English had lacked the sophistication demanded by Oxford professors, “It started after I quit track.”

   “I always followed your running career, you know. Right up until you announced your retirement. I was so proud of you when you won the gold in Barcelona. But I didn’t know you’d taken to writing books.” Nicole lifted her glass to her mouth and waited for Carter to respond.

   “No reason why you should,” he said, “Apart from a couple of academic tomes of interest only to hardened geologists, the only thing I’ve written before this, my first novel, is my autobiography.”

   Nicole spluttered into her drink and an involuntary laugh escaped from her mouth. “You’re kidding!” she exclaimed.

   “Hey! They made me do it! OK,” protested Carter, “But it didn’t sell too well, not here or in the States.”

   Nicole looked at Carter, who smiled at her. She thought for a moment and then picked up her glass. As she drank from the glass, she looked at Carter over the top of it. Then she put the glass down and dropped her eyes as she spoke.

   “Am I in it?” she asked, her voice now quiet, almost casual in tone.

   “Should you be?” responded Carter non-committally, playing along.

   Nicole shrugged and picked up her glass again. She was trying hard not to appear too interested, one way or the other, and Carter grinned.

   “Well, you can find out for yourself,” he said. “I brought you a copy.”

   Carter reached into his bag and pulled out a hard backed book with a picture of him running on the dust cover. He handed the book to Nicole. She took it from him and lovingly passed her hand over the picture of Carter.

   “Look inside, I’ve signed it for you,” he said.

   Nicole opened the book and turned to the first page. Her eyes filled with tears as she read what was there. She looked up at him and shook her head slowly.

   “Oh, Carter,” she said as the tears ran freely down her cheeks.

   Inside the book, Carter had signed ‘With all my love for ever, Carter’ but it wasn’t this inscription which had caught her so off guard, it was the printed dedication which simply read:

for nikki

the only girl i ever loved

   “What does your wife think of that?” she asked when she had regained her composure, “Must have shaken her a bit.”

   “I’m not married, Nikki,” he said, “Never have been. How could I be? The only girl I ever wanted to marry went and married someone else.” Nicole looked away as the tears returned. She wiped her eyes quickly with her hand and turned back to Carter.

   “Carter, I can’t have lunch with you now, not after this,” she said, looking at him and shaking her head gently. “It would be too… difficult.”

   Nicole got up from her chair to leave but Carter reached out and gripped her hand. 

   “I understand,” he said. “Truly, I do! But please, you must stay. There’s more.”

   Nicole resisted for a moment and then sat down again. “What? What more can there be?”

   “Nikki,” Carter looked at her uneasily. “You remember I said I had two reasons for being here?”

   “Yes,” replied Nicole as Carter looked at her, wondering how to bring up the second reason for his trip without destroying her. He would have preferred not to talk about it but he didn’t see how he could avoid it. He decided to press on.

   “Well,” he said, ”I think the second reason may have something to do with Rob’s death.”

   Nicole sat stonily, too shocked to speak, but when Carter didn’t continue, she forced herself to say something. “Go on,” she croaked and Carter’s eyes began to fill with tears. He fought the tears back, cleared his throat and continued.

   “Apart from writing,” he began, “There’s something else I do. I work as an investigator for an organisation called The New York Federation of International Diamond Traders. As you might guess they’re involved in the diamond business.”

   Carter leaned forward and put his hands on the table. He looked at Nicole, hoping that what he had to say would not put a brick wall between them. She leaned a little further back in her chair, not really wanting to hear what Carter had to say.

   “A few weeks ago,” he continued, “some very good synthetic diamonds were found in a consignment of natural stones and last week I was brought in to find out how they got there. So far, all we know is that they came from a dealer who bought them from a cutting house in France. And, according to their records, the whole batch came from a mine in Guinea.”

   “But they couldn’t have, could they?” said Nicole, beginning to recover from the shock of what Carter had said.

   “No, they couldn’t. About ten percent of the batch had never seen the inside of a diamond mine.”

   Nicole’s throat was dry, raspingly dry. She took a drink from her glass. “But what’s all that got to do with me, Carter?” she asked, “Or with Rob?”

   Carter steeled himself to speak, knowing that he was about to drop a bombshell. “The mine in Guinea, Nikki, belongs to your father, to Philippe Lacoste.”

   Nicole could feel waves of nausea coming over her but they were repelled by her anger at what Carter had inferred. She looked at him as if he had gone stark raving mad and there was undisguised aggression in her voice.

   “Are you, for one moment, suggesting that my father is involved in something illegal?”

   “It
is
his mine, Nikki. There’s no doubt about that.”

   “Even if he is involved with something he shouldn’t be, which I don’t believe he is for a moment, why would that involve Rob? You surely can’t think Rob had anything to do with it?”

   “No. Not knowingly, anyway. But he may have been drawn into it by accident. Maybe, somehow, he inadvertently stumbled onto something. Maybe he saw something or overheard something. A successful operation like this can net millions of dollars before it gets closed down. That’s big bucks. Big enough for the people involved to be willing to do pretty much anything to protect it. Even kill if they think it’s necessary.”

   Nicole gave Carter a searching look. He seemed sincere. What reason could he have to lie? Nevertheless, she moved into defensive mode. If what Carter was saying was right, then her father was implicated in her son’s murder and that was unthinkable.

   “My father has always had lots of business interests,” she said, “I’m sure he knows nothing about these diamonds of yours. He probably doesn’t even realise he’s got a diamond mine.”

   “Whether he does or not, the fact remains, that’s where the stones appear to have come from.”

   Nicole looked away in disgust. She shook her head and stared out of the window, thinking. Then she turned back from the window and gave Carter a searching look.

   “What do you want from me, Carter?” she asked, “You drop in out of nowhere after twenty-five years and tell me my father is responsible for my son’s death.” Nicole looked away from Carter.

   “No! No, I’m not saying that. Just that there may be a link,” corrected Carter, “And while you might not want to hear any of this, you might want to find out who killed Rob. And why.” Carter and Nicole stared at each other before Carter broke the stare and looked away as he spoke, “And you might be able to help me to do that.”

   “But I don’t know anything about any of it,” pleaded Nicole, her anger now replaced by a feeling of impotence.

   “Maybe not,” said Carter, trying to soothe her, “And I know you probably hate me right now, but…”

   Nicole interrupted Carter, raising her hand as she did. “I don’t hate you Carter,” she said, “You’re not responsible for what’s happened, I know that. But I don’t believe my father is either. And I really don’t see how I can help.”

   “Maybe you can’t but can I just ask you, have you noticed anything unusual or strange in the last few weeks? Maybe something you couldn’t explain?

   Nicole considered the question before responding. “No, nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Except… No, no that couldn’t possibly be anything to do with it.”

CHAPTER 5

While Carter was getting reacquainted with Nicole in Yorkshire, back in Port Grimaud, Philippe was holding a business meeting in his living room. Apart from Gilles, there were three other people there, all boat owners who had complaints about how Gilles was running Philippe’s charter agency. When, eventually, the meeting ended and the boat owners left, Philippe went to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a cognac. He indicated to Gilles to help himself to a drink and walked across the room to the French window. He stared out towards the Capitainerie, deep in thought, and when he spoke, he did so without turning to face Gilles.