The Locksmith by Linda Calvey (top 5 books to read TXT) 📗

her face. She would also wear dark glasses to hide her eyes from the crowds that would, no doubt, treat this rich widow with fascination and horror.

‘Madam, you have a visitor,’ Ruby’s new maid said, knocking gently on her bedroom door. Ruby rose, straightened her dress and walked down the sweeping staircase. Vladimir was standing at the bottom, a huge bouquet of white lilies in his arms.

‘Thank you for comin’, Mr Ivanov,’ she said. She’d sent him a discreet note asking him to visit her prior to the limousines arriving.

‘Call me Vladimir, please,’ he said, planting a kiss on her hand.

‘Vladimir,’ she murmured, leading him away from the entrance so they couldn’t be overheard. ‘There is somethin’ I want you to do for me.’

‘Anything, dear lady, anything for such sorrow,’ he replied, his eyes boring into hers.

‘We are askin’ our contacts, discreetly, mind you . . .’ Ruby took a deep breath. ‘My husband’s death and the robbery may ’ave been arranged. We want to know, not think. And if there’s a who, we want to know their identity. By now we’ve built up a business relationship, Vladimir, and as our partnership grows stronger, I wondered if you were in a position to help us?’ Her words were barely audible but Vladimir understood.

‘You want me to make . . . discreet . . . enquiries?’ he said.

‘I do,’ she answered. ‘Lloyd and Alfie are already talkin’ to our associates, but as you ’ave so many Spanish connections, I thought it would be stupid not to ask you. Can I rely on your discretion?’

‘Of course you can, dear lady. Ask anything of me. I will do everything in my power to assist you – and your family – in these terrible times.’

He looked into her green eyes, holding her steady gaze.

‘Thank you,’ she said, sealing their unwritten contract.

They walked together to the waiting limousines. Ruby stepped into the first one. Cathy and Belle were already inside. Bobby would follow with Alfie and Lloyd.

The car drew away, making its way slowly down the winding road to the cemetery.

The ceremony was packed, but Ruby was unaware of the others, only Cathy’s clammy hand in hers. She felt cold despite the late summer heat as the priest intoned the ritual over her husband’s graveside. She watched Archie’s casket as it was lowered into the ground, and stood at the graveside to throw in the first clod of earth. She felt as if her body had frozen from the inside, and nothing would ever touch her again.

The wake was a lavish affair. Fears over needing a pauper’s funeral were no longer a part of her reality. The villa was filled with flowers, the white lilies Ruby adored. Her staff were catering for hundreds and a large marquee had been erected in the grounds. Ruby watched as Lloyd, as head of the family, hosted the event. She was grateful to be by his side, letting him lead the day. She nodded, accepting condolences from people she’d never met before, as shady men mixed with glamorous models and celebrities, wishing they would all disappear and she could be left with her thoughts. Cathy made her escape early on in the company of Belle, but Ruby wasn’t afforded the same luxury.

The hours dragged on, and Ruby finally made her excuses and left the party, slipping into her room and telling her maid to admit no one. Once inside, she peeled off the hat, which had left her feeling claustrophobic, and finally the grief came, washing over her with her tears. She cried for a long time, and when she finally finished, she looked over at herself in her large mirror, a copy of one at the Palace of Versailles. She walked over to it, seeing herself as if for the first time. Her make-up had run and so she wiped her face clean with a scented towelette. She looked again. This time a woman with expensively-cut hair wearing a designer black dress looked back at her. She saw her creamy skin, contrasting with the flash of her emerald eyes. She saw the necklace of diamonds and emeralds glittering at her throat, her wedding ring on her hand, so solid, so tough.

Despite her grief, she saw a woman with her head high, with pride in herself and her family. She saw a murderess, a negotiator, a hardened woman who would stop at nothing to avenge the death of her man. She would bury her feelings. She would carry on, more in control, more powerful than ever. She would become even tougher. She saw herself now, not as a soft, homely mother, but as a businesswoman, a woman of her own creation. It had taken a long time – and many tragedies – to get to this position but here she was at last. Nothing would stop her ever again, and nothing would harm her daughter. Nothing and no one. She would rise from this latest, overwhelming grief, like a phoenix from the ashes of her life.

She didn’t know if Archie had died in a set-up, if the robbers were the chancers she’d guessed – or whether there was someone, or some organisation, behind it all. But it didn’t feel like it was over.

Her intuition said it wasn’t, and she knew she would hunt to the ends of the earth for answers.

Either way, she vowed to use this deep grief, to become so powerful that no one could touch them or hurt them ever again. What happened with the gunmen should never have happened. People should have been too afraid to ever take the chance of crossing them. She had to become untouchable. No one would ever dare take a bribe to let in a chancer. No one would consider doing them over, or trying to harm her family. She had to become stronger, swifter, sharper. Her only safety – and that of her family – from now on was to be on top, to become the most powerful woman in the drug business. Nothing else