Chapter 1 She was beautiful, the kind of woman you only saw on the cover of a pulp fiction novel, a fantasy crafted in flawless, honey toned flesh with long curls the colour of bitter chocolate. Her face was an artist’s dream, perfectly formed with high cheekbones and finely proportioned features. Her bright sea- green eyes would survey a room, her intense stare falling upon each and every occupant, melting the men, angering the women, and her soft, ruby painted lips would twitch with a half- smile of recognition. Men couldn’t help but stare as she passed, her lithe body delicately sheathed in a light silk gown that emphasized her curves, her hips swaying gently, hypnotically, as she gracefully navigated her surroundings with barely audible steps. And the women… The women would share a scowl of utter contempt, their faces twisted with distaste as they too watched this angelic creature captivate their men. I remember clearly the first time I laid eyes on her, every detail of that bizarre twist of Fate that brought her to me. It was in the tiny coastal town of Jacob’s Holt, where I was pursuing a “bread and butter” story on local rumours of smuggling and corruption. The tea shop in which I sat studying my notes and awaiting my appointment was old, worn and musty; scored and heavily waxed pinewood tables were evenly spaced around the room, the sparsely padded and threadbare seating mostly occupied by idle fishermen, their early morning catch now on its way to market leaving them with the rest of the day to waste. Idle chatter and the occasional bout of loud banter provided a soothing background that helped me focus as I adjusted the questioning that would form my interview. I was deep in thought, working through expected responses to probing questions and paying my usual cursory attention to the occasional comment thrown my way, when a sudden hush fell across the room, pulling me from my self- imposed isolation. I looked up, and there she was, a waif- like silhouette caught in a stream of dusty light at the doorway, the halo of her hair sparked into a million deep, rich shades. Every head turned, every eye looked and no-one uttered a sound; every witness to this visitation was momentarily struck dumb. The door swung shut behind her, and her features, no longer hidden in shadow, elicited a gasp from her audience. She stood for a moment, laying that enigmatic smile on each man in turn, until the waitress, a small and slightly plump woman named Ellie, hissed venomously at her. Those green eyes snapped round to lock with Ellie’s, and I watched, fascinated as Ellie lost her nerve almost instantly, blushed and dropped her gaze. The other laughed softly, a short melodic sound that made my spine tingle. I had my chance right then and there. I could have turned away, should have heeded the unspoken warning that this woman was trouble, but I stared regardless of the danger. Once her eyes found me, I was lost; any defense that I might have had was swept away in a blink, and I felt naked, exposed to my very soul under her scrutiny. As she swept toward me my breath caught, the silence of the room marred only by the soft click of her heels on the red brick floor and the sighing of her silk gown. She reached my table and laid one delicate and perfectly manicured hand on the back of the seat opposite, gazing down at me with that half- smile playing on her lips. “Is this seat taken?” she inquired, and her voice, so soft, so beautiful, tore the breath from me in a rush. I shook my head mutely, and she curled into the seat in one graceful movement. For what seemed an eternity, she studied me, head cocked slightly, and my heart pounded in my chest as if it would burst. “Luci,” she said, extending a hand across the table, “Luci with an ‘I’.” I took the hand in my own, praying that she would not notice my trembling, and made a valiant attempt to redeem myself. “Elliot Wallis,” I said, “with a wife.” Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as the smile broadened a little, an expression that emphasized the futility of my words and made me blush. “Pity,” she purred releasing my hand, “Does that mean you won’t buy a girl a coffee then?” I smiled awkwardly, and called for two coffees; the sound carried uncomfortably around the silent room and I was acutely aware of the jealous stares of the other patrons. I am ashamed to admit that it made me feel good. Ellie arrived with the coffees in hand and a look of thunder on her face. She placed the first in front of me, and said, “You should pick your friends more wisely Mr. Wallis.” She turned to my companion before I could reply, and with uncharacteristic venom she spat, “And you should be ashamed of yourself!” “Really?” replied Luci calmly, “And what about you, Ellie? Are you ashamed? Do you lie awake at night thinking on what you did to your brother? Does it bother you, or do you tell yourself it was just?” Colour rose in Ellie’s cheeks as she struggled for an answer, then, utterly defeated, she slammed the coffee to the table, spilling some into the saucer, and stormed away. I watched the scene with some fascination, and then looked at Luci inquiringly. “Family secrets,” she said, “They can be most… useful, under the right circumstances. May I?” she asked, indicating my cigarettes and closing the conversation. I nodded and watched as she drew one from the pack and placed it between her lips. Flicking my lighter, I leaned forward with the flame, and she cupped my hands with her own; her touch sent a thrill like a bolt of lightning through my body. Leaning back, she exhaled a stream of blue smoke. “So, what do you do, Elliot Wallis?” she asked. “I write,” I replied dreamily, laying a hand on my notebook, “Human interest stories mostly, for newspapers. Sometimes I’ll get a story with some meat to it, but that’s rare these days.” “Aah, so your visit is purely business then. I had wondered what would bring a stranger here, we don’t get many and most don’t stop for long.” “Human interest stories are everywhere,” I replied vaguely, “All you have to do is look around you.” “Yes, of course, human interest… an unusual phrase don’t you think?” she said with a smile, “It’s vague enough to cover everything, and yet we use it to denote the amusing trivia that keeps a slow news day entertaining. Somehow, Elliot Wallis, you don’t look like the type to be interested in trivia. Are you the trivial type?” “Well, I…um…” I stuttered. She tilted her head slightly, studying me intently as she drew on the cigarette again. “So have you come across anything interesting in our little village?” she inquired, “Something with some… meat… to it, perhaps?” My mind floundered; my source had demanded that I keep our dealings private, and this was entirely within the bounds of my professional ethics, and yet here I was, sitting with a woman I didn’t even know, wanting to tell her everything. I squirmed uncomfortably as the redness climbed my neck to my cheeks, and she watched for a moment before laughing softly. “Keep your secrets, Elliot Wallis. I like a man whose mind is his own.” I smiled nervously, glad to be released from the discomfort. Clearing my throat, I asked, “What about you, Luci? You hardly look like you belong here.” “Well, that’s a long story,” she replied, “but let’s just say it suits me for now, and perhaps tomorrow will be different.” She leaned forward and stubbed the half- smoked cigarette in the ash tray. “I must be going,” she said, “and no doubt you have plans too.” “Don’t you want to finish your coffee?” I asked hopefully, wishing she would stay. “Ellie probably spat in it,” she said with a grin, “I think I’ll pass. Besides, the tension in here is a little much, wouldn’t you say? “Would you care to walk me out?” she said as she stood. I grabbed my things and walked with her outside; she was even more radiant in the sunlight. Turning to face me she said, “It’s been a pleasure, Elliot Wallis. Perhaps we’ll meet again.” And with that, she leaned forward and kissed my cheek. I watched her leave, her gown clinging to her in the light breeze and her kiss like a flaming brand on my cheek; my entire attention was on her until she was lost from sight, so when a heavy hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me round, I nearly cried out in fright. “What the hell was she doing here? How much did you tell her?” growled Cole Barton, my contact. His eyes flashed with barely controlled rage and more than a touch of anxiety. “Nothing,” I said, “I told her nothing. We just had coffee, that’s all.” “Do you have any idea…?” he said leaning close enough for me to smell the stale booze on his breath. His anger dissipated as suddenly as it had struck, and he sighed deeply and let me go. “I was just coming to meet you,” I said, straightening my jacket, “Do you have the information I asked for?” He stared at me for a moment, seemingly weighing his options, struggling with some inner demon. “Things have changed,” he muttered, “This is getting dangerous.” He wagged a finger in the direction of Luci’s departure. “That… that… bitch is the final straw. Seeing her with you, I know they are on to me. I need to get away, I need to leave as soon as possible. “I’ll be on the first train out of here, eight o’clock tonight, and if you’ve got any sense, you’ll be on it too.” “I can’t leave, I have a job to do,” I said, with as much reason as I could muster; this story had just got interesting. Cole turned his back to me and ran a hand nervously through his thinning hair. “What’s it worth to you Elliot? Your life, perhaps? ‘Cos it sure isn’t worth mine.” With that said, he began to walk away. “Wait!” I cried, “Look, at least give me what you have. I have to finish the story.” He paused and looked back over his shoulder, thinking it over. “The old churchyard, by the station,” he said, “Seven thirty tonight. Don’t be late.” I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him. “You’re a fool, Elliot,” he called as he left, “Some things should be left alone.” I checked my pocket watch. It was eleven thirty, I had some time to kill.