Chapter Six
Six
The sun beat down on Villa Sérénité, lending the air a hazy shimmer that blurred the edges of the parasols around the pool.
Although that might have been the cocktails.
It was a little after midday, and Baxter had already made several rounds of Negronis.
Kaitlyn was on strawberry daiquiris. She had told Baxter Campari was too bitter, and then she had followed him to the bar and whispered that, actually, he could skip the rum.
“You won’t tell the others, will you?” she’d said anxiously. “I don’t want them thinking I’m a lightweight.”
“I shall be the soul of discretion,” Baxter had promised her. The younger generation were much less hedonistic than his own, he had noticed. More inclined to ask for protein shakes and avocado toast than mimosas and bacon sandwiches.
The four women were in swimsuits, although Sylvie wore an oversized white shirt over hers, having declared the sun terribly aging. She had teamed her outfit with a wide-brimmed hat and large sunglasses, despite the protection offered by her umbrella.
Francesca—in a black one-piece with scalloped edges—had spent the last hour swimming lazy lengths, stopping from time to time to rest her forearms on the side of the pool close to Sylvie’s lounger.
Baxter caught snatches of their conversation as he delivered drinks or exchanged damp towels for fresh ones.
“… After his money, of course,” Sylvie was saying.
“Such a cynic.” Francesca took the claw clip from the top of her head and held it between her teeth while she tightened the swirl of hair it had been holding. “You’re right, of course,” she added once she’d fixed her hair.
The two younger women (one of whom Baxter assumed to be the subject of Sylvie and Francesca’s conversation) were on the far side of the pool, their loungers turned to face the sun.
Kaitlyn had pulled down the straps of her bikini top to better facilitate the serious business of tanning.
“The clubs are supposed to be banging here,” she was saying as Baxter walked by.
Her eyes were closed, her face tipped up to the sun.
Jade made a murmur of agreement. She was reading a novel, occasionally resting the book on her stomach and looking instead at the breathtaking view.
She did so now, then reached into her bag for a bottle of sunscreen.
She shook it, then frowned and called across the pool.
“Babe, what sunscreen did you bring? I’ve run out. ”
“Factor thirty.” Carter held up a blue bottle to show her.
“I can’t use cream; I’ll look like a ghost.”
Francesca, who had resumed her lengths, stopped to tread water. “I have an oil-based one, sweetie— It’s over by the pool floats.”
“Oh amazing, thank you.”
“I’ll keep it there— Use it whenever you need.”
As Jade crossed the terrace, Carter’s eyes flicked appreciatively over her body.
Next to him, Damian was openly ogling. Jade’s bikini was simple—high-waisted bottoms and a bandeau top—but the vivid orange was striking against her burnished body, which curved in all the right places.
Along one anklebone and onto her foot was a delicate tattoo of trailing ivy.
Only Alec wasn’t looking, instead staring intently at his phone as though dealing with urgent business.
Or avoiding Jade, Baxter thought, remembering Alec’s reaction to the arrival of his son’s new girlfriend last night.
All the women were striking and clearly took care of their appearances. Baxter wondered if the men had any inkling of how far above their weight they were punching. Even Carter, who had youth on his side, was soft around the edges, his pallid flesh like uncooked dough.
“Hey, Baxter,” he called now. “I’d say we’re about ready for lunch, if Chef can rustle something up.”
“Of course, sir.”
There was, of course, no need to “rustle up” anything. Every meal had been carefully planned, and Baxter went to the kitchen now to let Thierry and Miriam know they could bring out the platters of cold meats and salads.
“What are they like?” Thierry pulled the foil from a shallow dish lined with sliced tomato and creamy burrata.
Baxter gave his standard answer. “Perfectly pleasant.”
“Miriam said they’re awful.” Thierry was scattering basil leaves over the salad.
Miriam flushed as Baxter gave her a disapproving look, then lifted her chin defensively. “They are awful. You should have seen the state of Sylvie’s bathroom this morning. And I don’t want to think about what Alec and his girlfriend get up to in bed; their sheets were degueulasse.” She shuddered.
Baxter picked up a basket of warm bread and a chilled dish containing pats of salted butter. “I’m sure they’ll leave a nice tip at the end of the week,” he said, although you could never tell.
“I hope so,” Thierry said. “The season’s been slow, and things are a bit tight.”
Baxter glanced at him. Thierry was a good cook, and with Miriam doing housekeeping duties, they made a useful pair, but Thierry had a weakness for gambling.
Baxter wondered if he owed money. It was no business of Baxter’s what his team did on their own time, but he was wary of staff who were in debt when there were so many valuables in the villa.
Baxter had spotted a Ming vase in the entrance hall, and the guests’ luggage had been full of designer clothes and expensive jewelry.
Lunch was served on the terrace beneath the striped awning, where the breeze from the valley did little to cut through the heat. A bottle of chilled rosé sweated in its bucket, the first already empty.
Damian speared a forkful of swordfish, then turned his attention to Carter. “Where are you working nowadays?”
Carter took a mouthful of wine. “I have a tech start-up.”
“Your godfather asked where you were working,” Alec said drily.
“I’m working on my start-up.” Carter’s voice was tight, and Baxter realized this was not the first time the pair had had this conversation.
“Give him a break, Alec,” Sylvie said. “He’s twenty-one.”
“Exactly!” Alec stabbed his fork at the air. “When I was his age, I was turning over seven figures. I wasn’t in my mate’s bedroom playing computer games.”
Jade turned to Damian. “Carter and his business partner are developing an AI medical care app. It can diagnose and issue prescriptions; the aim is to relieve the pressure on the UK’s health service and give patients faster access to treatment.”
“Clever you!” Francesca said.
Alec snorted. “Even cleverer if it earned money. I’ve already sunk ten grand into this vanity project with no sign of a return.” Baxter made a mental note to pass on this information to Anya.
Carter set down his wine glass sharply. “We have several investors interested.”
“That’s what you said a year ago. Meanwhile, you’re living the high life on my credit card.”
“Start-ups take time,” Jade said mildly. “I’m confident MediSense is going to take off.”
Damian chuckled. “With respect, sweetheart, that might mean more coming from someone whose own career has taken off.” He smiled patronizingly. “Alec tells me you’re trying to be an actress.”
“I pick up auditions when I can, yes.”
Francesca leaned forward. “If I can help at all …”
“You’re very kind. It’s hard fitting it in around work, but I feel like if I don’t give it a shot now, I’ll always regret it, you know?”
“A waitress, are you?” Damian looked at his wife. “They usually are, aren’t they? That or bartenders. LA is full of them. As awful at bartending as they are at acting!” He guffawed, although no one joined in.
Jade left a beat. “A lawyer, actually.”
“You’re a lawyer?” The interjection from Alec was uncomfortably loud.
“Training to be. I did a law degree, and now I’m on a year-long internship with Blackwood and Rogers.”
“Jade grew up in a foster family.” Carter squeezed his girlfriend’s hand, looking at her proudly. “She put herself through uni—worked a dozen jobs at once.”
“You were right about one thing though.” Jade stared at Damian unsmilingly. “I was an awful waitress.”
Francesca raised a glass in Jade’s direction. “What a brilliant young woman you are.”
“I told you she was wonderful,” Sylvie said, and Baxter caught a flash of irritation on Kaitlyn’s face. He wondered how much of Sylvie’s endorsement of Jade was heartfelt, and how much was done to annoy her ex-husband’s latest girlfriend.
“Six months,” Alec said suddenly. He leaned back in his chair and nodded slowly at Carter. “I’ll give you another six months to get this start-up off the ground and actually earning you a salary.”
Carter stared at him. “Then what?”
Alec put a piece of bread in his mouth and took his time chewing it. After what seemed an eternity, he swallowed. “Then you’re on your own.”
Carter paled. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“I mean, the bank of Dad is closing.”
“Alec!” Sylvie threw down her napkin. “It’s his birthday for God’s sake— It’s hardly the time to be making threats.”
“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise. It’s about time he stood on his own two feet. You spoilt him, that’s the problem.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault, now?”
“Well, it’s not mine.”
“But it’ll be ages before MediSense can offer Rich and me proper salaries,” Carter said, his voice rising in anger. “How am I going to pay for things?”
“Not my problem.” Alec pushed back his chair. “Six months. Then I’m cutting you off.”
An awkward silence fell over the table. Only Damian was still eating.
“Does anyone fancy a walk?” Francesca said. There was a long pause.
“Sure.” Jade glanced at Carter, perhaps thinking of suggesting he join them, but he was staring at his half-finished plate, a thunderous expression on his face.
Baxter was just about to start clearing plates when he saw a flash of silver from the corner of his eye.
Puzzled, he moved to the edge of the terrace, scanning the hillside.
Nothing for a few seconds, and then there it was again: a flash—not of silver, as he’d thought—but of a reflection.
The sun, glinting off glass. Only there were no houses there, no windows, just scrubby grass and thin, windswept trees.
Binoculars? A camera? Baxter didn’t move.
Someone was watching them, he was certain of it. But what did they want?