Page 202 of Kiss Heaven Goodbye

‘About the discovery at Angel Cay?’

She didn’t know what he knew, but as a trusted henchman of the great Miles Ashford, it was certain he had more information than Detective Carlton.

‘Don’t worry, we’re going to get this all smoothed out, Sasha.’

‘Really? And how precisely do you propose to do that?’ she said, irritated by his condescending tone.

‘Miles wants you all to meet to discuss your position.’

Sasha swallowed. ‘All of us?’

‘Yourself, his sister Grace and Alex Doyle,’ said Michael. ‘He wants you all to come to Angel Cay.’

She felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. ‘Why on earth would I want to go there?’ she hissed.

‘Would you rather this was first discussed at Nassau’s police station?’

‘I suppose not.’

‘Miles thinks you should all talk about this privately and make a strategy,’ said Michael smoothly. ‘And I think that’s a wise move. We will send his personal jet for you. You’ll land in Nassau and be taken directly to Angel Cay. Can you be ready by first thing tomorrow morning?’

Sasha had the sense of being pushed into something she wasn’t comfortable with. That’s a feeling I should be well used to with Miles Ashford, she thought.

‘I need to think about this,’ she said, playing for time. Most of all, she wanted to discuss it with Philip. He would know what to do.

‘Well, call me as soon as you have thought it through,’ said Michael. ‘You’re all in this together, Sasha. And right now, I think you all need to stick together.’

Part Three

76

Sitting at the back of the six-seater plane, Alex gripped the armrest of his seat and watched Angel Cay get bigger and bigger, the white sands growing brighter and more dazzling as the small craft circled the island then spluttered in to land on the tiny airstrip along the south shore. He simply couldn’t believe he was back here. Stepping off the plane, the scented tropical breeze warming his face, squinting at the perfect stripe of sea beyond the dunes, it was as if the summer of 1990 had been yesterday.

He glanced over at Grace and gave her an uncertain smile, knowing she was feeling it too. But Grace had other things on her mind; she had barely spoken on the flight from Heathrow. He experienced a huge wave of emotion for her, feeling the weight of what she had just been through on his own shoulders. After her hysterical phone call three days ago, he’d found her wandering aimlessly along Chelsea Embankment, her face a pink puffy mess, stuttering and shaking. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was Julian’s affair with her daughter which had destroyed her, or the brutal words Olivia had spoken when Grace had walked in on them. Whichever it was, she had fallen completely apart, and while his first instincts had been to track Julian down and beat the living shit out of him, he had done the grown-up thing and taken her back to his Highgate home to look after her, protect her.

That was where they had been when Michael Marshall had called. A body had been found, he had said. The police wanted to question them. They had to face this together.

Standing on the dusty runway, the pale pink house looking down on him from the bluff of the hill like an imperious maiden aunt, he wondered how Grace had persuaded him to come. He always knew this day might happen, of course; in fact he had somehow known in his gut that it would, but his time in the clinic had forced him to look at his motivations in life, and he had realised that the desire to be rich, powerful and adored was really a desire to be protected, so that he would be cushioned from things like this, hiding away behind an army of expensive lawyers and legal loopholes. If he’d wanted, he was sure he could have paid enough to make this go away, but as always, Grace had broken down his defences.

‘We can’t hide for ever,’ she had said, and there was a certain simple truth in her words. Alex had made himself unhappy all his life because he wouldn’t face things. Maybe now he could find some peace, however painful it was to do. He looked over at his friend with affection.

‘You OK?’ he said, and she nodded.

‘Under the circumstances.’

Alex suspected that from Grace’s point of view, Michael Marshall’s phone call had been a relief. She was the one who had carried this burden around with her, trying to make amends with her good works, by living a good life, but it hadn’t been enough – and now here was a chance to make it right, or at least own up to what she – they – had done. He also suspected she’d much rather be facing a police grilling than dealing with the horrible mess that her personal life had become.

A white Mini Moke appeared through a clearing in the palm-trees, beeping its horn as it approached the runway.

‘Here he comes, the lord of the manor,’ said Grace as they saw Miles in the driver’s seat.

‘You know, even as a lad I knew that having a friend like Miles was trouble.’

‘But he sucked you in anyway?’ asked Grace. ‘He does that. Even now.’

Miles stepped out of the car in shorts and a white open-necked shirt, looking for all the world like a carefree tourist rather than a cornered felon. He strode over and slapped Alex on the shoulder.

‘Good flight?’