The Pleasures of Autumn (8 page)

Niall was shaken. That bulky coat made it hard to be sure, but the woman on the tape looked a lot like Sinead.

The tape flickered forwards, showing the woman going to Sinead’s office. When she emerged, she was wearing a lab coat with something in the pocket and her head was down as she fiddled with it. Ice coated Niall’s spine. She was very familiar.

The woman walked to the Fire of Autumn display case. She had her back to the camera. Niall could see her remove something from her pocket, but not what she did with it. For long moments, all he could see was her slender neck bent with a tendril of titian hair loose over the collar.

The door of the case opened. She reached in and lifted out the ruby, then turned so that the camera had a full view of her face.

Niall stopped breathing. It was Sinead. There was no doubt about it. He had examined those spectacular eyes barely half an hour ago. Now, they were facing the camera, looking at it as if she knew it was there and was challenging it. Even those extravagant lashes were the same. She took her glasses out of her pocket, put them on and turned back to her office.

Two minutes later, she emerged, wearing the heavy coat, with her hair tucked into her furry hat.

‘Have you seen enough?’ Günter asked.

‘More than enough.’

Somehow, Niall managed to behave normally while he took notes, arranged for extra information to be sent to his computer, and took his leave of them.

All the while, a voice in his head was repeating over and over, taunting him.
You have been had. Sinead O’Sullivan has played you.

‘What?’ Sinead took a step back as Niall advanced towards her. His grey eyes were as cold as the Atlantic Ocean in winter. He couldn’t be saying these things to her, not after what happened between them this morning. Not after that kiss in the park.

‘You heard me,’ Niall spat. ‘You’re a lying, deceiving bitch and to think that I fell for it. Where is the stone?’ He opened and closed his fists as if he could barely control his rage.

Fear crawled up her back like an icy finger. She had a sudden flashback to the makeshift commune in Mayo – the man’s voice raised in anger and the sound of her mother sobbing, while Sinead clutched a small hand beneath the threadbare sheets of the single bed in the next room.

She took a deep steadying breath.
Calm down, you’ve been through worse. You can handle this.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She was proud that her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

‘You’re lying!’ There was no doubt in his voice. ‘That’s just to start with. What about cheating and stealing, huh? Don’t bother keeping up the act. I saw the CCTV footage from the museum.’

What had happened since he left? ‘Niall, I don’t understand. Calm down and explain to me what you saw.’

He paced the floor. ‘Jesus, you’re good. Not so much as
a flicker of guilt. I’ve dealt with some psychos in my time but you …’ He spun around to face her. ‘I saw the fucking footage with my own eyes, Sinead. I saw you take the stone.’

She swallowed hard. This was a nightmare. She believed that it was a simple case of mistaken identity but Niall had seen the tapes and he had no doubt that she was the thief. Could it be her sister?

‘And to think that I trusted you, that I …’ His short laugh was full of bitterness. ‘God, you were good. Shy, sweet little Sinead O’Sullivan.’

Like a predator stalking his prey, he advanced on her. Her heart thumped but she held her ground. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing that she was afraid.

Niall stroked her cheek with his index finger before capturing her chin and raising her face to meet his scornful gaze. ‘Are there any depths you wouldn’t sink to? Would you have fucked me to make sure that I was on your side?’

His hand left her face and traced a path between the hollow of her breasts. ‘Or would you have done it because you like it, hmm?’

Despite herself, she arched towards him.

He lowered his head until his breath fanned her cheek. ‘Oh, I think that you would like it. Wouldn’t you? All that pent up frustration. Was that why you went off like a rocket when I touched you? How long has it been since someone took you to bed and gave you what you needed?’

She swallowed hard. How could she have trusted him? Sinead pushed against his chest and Niall moved back a half step.

‘Say the words, baby, and I’m all yours.’ He dropped his voice. ‘Three little words. Fire of Autumn. Where is it, Sinead? Where have you hidden it? Are you working alone or do you have an accomplice?’

She put her hands over her ears, not wanting to hear any more. She needed to think. Niall knew her. He knew what she looked like. Whoever had stolen the jewel had looked exactly like her and there was only one person that could be.

Roisin – her sister. Her heart pounded so hard, she thought it was trying to burst from her chest. ‘I want to see it,’ she said. ‘I have to see that tape, now.’

‘Be my guest.’ His mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘I believe the police have forwarded a copy to your lawyer.’

Sinead glanced at her watch. ‘Fine. Give me a few minutes to get changed and we’ll go there.’

On shaking legs she walked to bedroom, but paused at the door. No one believed that she had a sister. Her Uncle Tim had tried to comfort her, telling her that sometimes when little girls were lonely, they needed an imaginary friend. He thought Roro was someone she had dreamed up to help her get through her childhood traumas. Without knowing her father’s full name, she had never been able to find him or her sister. But if what Niall said was true, this theft was the proof she needed.

Two strangers thought they had recognized her. What had the woman at the dance studio said? ‘I thought you had a gig at Cirque in Paris.’ It wasn’t a whole lot to go on, but it was a start.

Sinead hurried inside and closed the door before he could see her tears.
Think. Think.
If she could find her
sister and the stone, she could get her life back. But she would have to do this alone.

She couldn’t depend on Niall to help her. She couldn’t depend on anyone.
Oh, toughen up. What did you expect? That Niall was some kind of knight in shining armour?

If she packed a bag he would know immediately that she planned to run. Riffling through her lingerie drawer, she grabbed a couple of pieces and shoved them into her handbag along with a scarf and a pair of sunglasses. She couldn’t risk using her credit cards. The police would trace her immediately. Reluctantly she put them back into the drawer.

She picked up her ATM cards for her Irish and English bank accounts and a small pile of bank notes. By the time the police got around to freezing the accounts, hopefully she would have cleared them out.

Her eyes were puffy and her nose was red, but when she repaired her make-up, she almost looked human, and not as if her life was falling apart. With a final glance around her bedroom, she walked to the door. The apartment was the first home of her own, and now she had to leave it.

Niall stood up immediately when she entered the living room. She didn’t look at his face, afraid of what she might see there. ‘I’m ready.’

They drove to the lawyer’s office without saying a word. Niall announced his arrival at the receptionist’s desk in the lobby, and they were directed to the elevator. On the fifth floor, another secretary showed them into Gerhardt Arnheim’s office. The mahogany desk was an original,
probably two hundred years old. At a polished meeting table near the window were three chairs and a laptop, already switched on.

The doors opened behind them and the lawyer swept into the room. ‘Miss O’Sullivan.’ He offered his hand, all formality.

He was younger than she expected. His old-fashioned manners gave him an air of gravitas beyond his years. She wondered idly how many generations of Arnheims had sat in the chair behind the antique desk.

They followed Gerhardt to the conference table. Sinead found herself caught in his steady blue-eyed stare. Tim O’Sullivan had chosen well; she felt as if the lawyer could see right through her. She wondered if he was comparing her to the woman on the CCTV tape.

‘I must apologize, Miss O’Sullivan. I’m afraid there is no good news. The police are eager to put the case before the –’

‘May I see the tape please?’

Gerhardt masked his puzzlement with politeness. ‘Of course.’

Sinead sat impassively as the footage displayed on the screen. Images of the various exhibition rooms in the museum passed in quick succession before he paused and pressed play. She took a deep breath. The jewel room of the Rheinbach museum – her favourite place in the world, or at least it had been.

A woman entered. Sinead caught a flash of red hair, the same colour as her own. Sinead recognized the lab coat as hers immediately. It had an ink stain on the pocket where
a cheap pen had leaked into the fabric. The woman approached the display case at the centre of the room, and Sinead’s breath caught in her throat.

The face on camera was a mirror image of hers. The mouth, nose and eyes were almost identical to the ones that stared back at her from her bathroom mirror every morning. Anyone looking at the tape would immediately believe that it was her.

She steeled herself, resisting the temptation to reach out to touch the flickering screen. Tears welled up and she swallowed hard. She couldn’t cry now. Roisin. It had been so long. More than twenty-three years since she had last seen her, but the ache in her heart told her that it was real. Roisin. Her sister. Her twin. Sinead almost said her name aloud.
Where did you go? What happened to you?

Conscious of both men watching her reaction, Sinead tried to keep her face impassive. There was no point in hiding this any longer. She cleared her throat. ‘There’s something you should know. I should have told you before this. I have an identical twin.’

Niall closed his eyes and then shook his head slowly. ‘Is that the best you could come up with? You actually expect me to believe something like that? For fuck’s sake, Sinead, do I look like an idiot?’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve seen your file. The Rheinbach ran a detailed security check before they offered you the job.’

He had seen her file? Niall was working for the Rheinbach?

His words hit her like a punch.

Niall had been investigating her all along – the kisses, the touches, the tender looks – none of it was real. If
Niall and Gerhardt believed that she had stolen the jewel, she didn’t have a prayer. She would be locked up in prison before the month was out.

After a moment of silence, Gerhardt pressed the control and Roisin’s image disappeared from the screen. ‘I’m sorry, Miss O’Sullivan, but I’m sure that you realize now that there is little we can do by way of a defence in this case. We can –’

Sinead’s stomach heaved. ‘Of course. I understand completely.’ She stood up on shaky legs. ‘If you gentlemen would excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.’

Gerhardt was immediately all concern. He directed her to a room at the end of the hall. Inside, she splashed her face with cold water. This was the end of everything. Her sister was alive, but the life she had worked so hard for had been destroyed in a single night.

Sinead examined her ashen face in the mirror, comparing it with the face on the tape. Identical twins were not really identical unless they worked at it, but the clothes, the hair. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Roisin must have studied her to see how she dressed and wore her make-up. Her sister had pretended to be her to steal the Fire of Autumn. She had set Sinead up to take the fall for the theft.

I have to get out of here or I’ll end up in prison.

Sinead opened the bathroom door a crack. She waited until Gerhardt’s secretary was called away and then she hurried down the emergency stairs to the next floor where she summoned the lift.

In the marbled lobby the young receptionist seemed surprised to see her return alone.

‘Please don’t tell my husband that you’ve seen me,’
Sinead said. ‘But I really need a cigarette and he hates to see me smoking.’

‘Of course.’ The girl smiled.

Sinead hurried outside. She raised her hand to hail a taxi before she remembered she couldn’t use her credit cards. She had barely enough cash to pay for the journey. Instead she dug a ticket out of her wallet and hopped on a tram to the main train station. She glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes had passed. She wondered how long it would be before Niall came searching for her. With any luck, he would check the apartment first before calling the police. She had no doubt now that he would turn her in.

A sharp stab of pain hit her in the chest. She was stupid to feel like this. It wasn’t as if they were lovers. It had been a ploy all along. She barely knew him.

Cornavin railway station loomed up ahead. Before she entered, Sinead pulled on the headscarf and sunglasses. She walked through the station as quickly as she could, staying close to crowds, trying not to draw any attention. She checked the display. There was a train to Paris leaving in less than ten minutes. She would be there in three hours. Sinead purchased a ticket at the machine and hurried to the platform.

Afterwards she wasn’t sure how she had held her nerve. What if they stopped her when she tried to board the train? But her ID card received no more than a cursory glance and she found a seat. Only when the train pulled away from the station did she relax. A steward pushing a trolley through the carriage offered coffee and snacks. She had enough coins left for a bottle of water, so she
purchased one and took a deep gulp. She had done it. She was leaving Geneva behind her.

And Niall, a small voice inside her head reminded her. She would never see Niall Moore again.

She closed her eyes and let the recent events wash over her. His kiss, the way that he held her, the way that he had set her body on fire when he touched her.

Then she thought about Roisin. The strange man at the police station who was convinced that he knew her, and later the woman at the dance studio. They didn’t know her, but they obviously knew her sister. She had spent years hoping to meet someone who had met her sister. Hell, who believed that she existed. And now she met two in forty eight hours? What were the odds of that?

Sinead stood up, and pulled down her handbag from the luggage rack. The dance instructor had given her contact details for a club, Cirque. She still had the card somewhere. There it was, with a Paris number scribbled on the back and the name Clothilde. It was a start. She could use it to find Roisin.

Find her sister and get her life back.

Niall listened with half an ear as Gerhardt Arnheim droned on about the technicalities of the Swiss judicial system and how Sinead would plead and what defence he could muster. Most of his attention was on the memory of Sinead’s face as she had watched that tape. He’d had to battle his own rage at being played for a fool, but he was used to keeping his attention on the important things. He had already seen the tape, so he watched Sinead watching it.