Page 162 of Guilty Pleasures

‘You had a very lucky escape,’ said the Swiss doctor rubbing his square jaw as he consulted the notes by the bed.

Emma looked at Rob, then at Roger.

‘I know,’ she said.

56

Emma refused to return to the chalet. The doctors wouldn’t let her fly with an arm in a cast and instead Rob hired a car and offered to drive her back.

Her phone rang as they were approaching the outskirts of Paris.

‘Grüezi. Is this Fraulein Bailey?’ asked an accented voice.

‘It is,’ said Emma, stealing a glance at Rob.

‘This is Inspector Beck of the Canton Bern police. An abandoned Mercedes has been found in Montbovond, about a fifteen-minute drive from Gstaad. I thought you would be interested to hear we discovered scrape marks all along the left-hand side, showing traces of red paint. I suspect they will match the red paint from your hire car that was run off the road.’

Emma had to bite her lip to prevent herself saying ‘I told you so’.

‘I suppose you have traced the owner of the car?’

‘Yes. It belonged to a Mrs Suzanne Marcel, a socialite lady who lives in Gstaad,’ said the policeman. ‘However, that does not help us too much as she had reported the car stolen before your accident.’

‘That car tried to run me off the road,’ said Emma firmly. ‘Whoever hit my car was trying to kill me, Inspector. Are there any forensic tests you can do on the car?’

There was a long pause. She wished she had stayed in Gstaad longer. She wondered how much of a priority her case would be now she was no longer there to pursue it.

‘Miss Bailey, we feel sure it was, how do you say in English, joyriders. It was Christmas, the car was stolen, the drivers were drunk.’

She could tell what he was trying to say: if joyriding was their most likely explanation, then it certainly wouldn’t be worth doing any expensive forensic tests on the vehicle.

‘Inspector Beck,’ said Emma, her voice rising, ‘I am absolutely convinced that whoever ran me off the road was doing it deliberately and knew it was me in that car. Even if you don’t believe me, one thing is certain: I was almost killed on that mountain. On that basis – attempted murder – I would hope that you and your police force might put a little more energy into finding the culprits, even if it was, as you say, joyriders.’

Beck sounded apologetic as he replied.

‘Fraulein, there is very little evidence.’

‘Well find some, Inspector!’

When she put down her mobile, Emma’s hands were shaking. She rested her head wearily against the window.

‘It wasn’t joyriders,’ she said quietly.

‘It is the simplest explanation,’ said Rob.

She looked at his profile and suddenly remembered the cider farm and how happy she had been that night. In the intimate confines of the car, there were so many questions she wanted to ask him. Why had it all cooled so suddenly after his Thanksgiving trip to New York? She didn’t even know who he had been in Courchevel with. She didn’t want to know. In Rob’s car she felt protected and safe, she wanted everything to stay that way for now.

‘What a great start to the New Year this is,’ she said, watching the French countryside slip by.

‘Listen, I have an idea,’ said Rob quickly. ‘Your birthday is next month, right?’

‘You have a good memor

y,’ she said suspiciously.

‘I’m not just a pretty face,’ he grinned. ‘And I also seem to remember that last year’s celebration was pretty crappy too, wasn’t it?’

She gave a low sarcastic laugh. ‘Oh yes. Betrayed by my then-boyfriend, I should have known what sort of year it was going to turn out to be.’