Plan B

Chapter Eighteen

Fran’s Sunday morning started with another visit from the police.  She was in the middle of a game of pool when Mr Carson called her into his study.  Arthur looked distinctly relieved as she set down the cue and followed the housemaster: Fran was as lethal with a pool cue in her hands as she was on the air hockey table, except that her control over anything on the pool table was non-existent.  Still, at least Arthur could say that his reflexes were good enough to dodge all of the balls she’d sent flying off the table.

Even though she knew why the police were there, Fran couldn’t help pausing in the doorway when she saw them and taking a couple of deep breaths.  There was no Brookie this time to calm her down this time.

Mr Carson disappeared through a door into his private flat, leaving Fran to face the police alone.

They haven’t found me.  They don’t know I’m a girl, she reminded herself.  Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she clenched and unclenched her fists twice before gathering the courage to approach the two men.  She recognised the first as Aidan before he even looked up at her, but when the second man turned to face her, she had to bite back a cry of delighted surprise.

“PC Davis,” the man introduced himself with a pleasant smile, briefly flashing his ID at her.  “Call me Malcolm.”

It took pretty much everything that Fran had in her to nod and shake his hand, introducing herself as Francis Grey, instead of squealing and tackle-hugging him.  Malcolm was one of the few things she missed from her time before Darkwood.  He was the only bodyguard she’d had who didn’t make her feel as though she was under house arrest.  She’d kind of hoped that Aidan could have taken over from one of the other two assigned to look after her, but he’d been an active member of the investigation team trying to gather information on the stalkers.

Malcolm had been like the big brother she’d never had.  They’d gone bowling together; he’d helped her with her homework; Fran had regularly slaughtered him at Halo; and she’d lost count of the number of times he’d fought off the stalkers trying to get hold of her.  When she’d slipped out of the attic window of her house at the beginning of September, during one of the periods Malcolm was supposed to be watching over her, she’d been convinced she’d never see him again.  But it seemed he and Aidan were still involved in her case, which probably meant that they thought there was some connection between her disappearance and the murders, or Aidan wouldn’t have interviewed her the previous time.

“You know Brookie Denvers, I gather?” Malcolm said to ease the awkward silence that reigned after they had introduced themselves.  He gestured to the sofas in the corner of Carson’s office and they all sat down.  Aidan relaxed back into the cushions and crossed his legs, taking out a notepad and pen.  Fran perched on the edge of the cushion and clasped her hands together, tapping her fingers nervously.

“Yeah….”  She shrugged.  “He’s my roommate.”

Malcolm shook his head with a wry grin.  “Many girls would kill for an opportunity like that.”

Fran shrugged again.  She was half-tempted to respond “I wouldn’t”, but she knew it wasn’t true: she might not be great friends with Brookie, but she wouldn’t have swapped rooms with somebody if they’d paid her.  Living in the same place as an A-list celebrity made her feel important.

“I do get odd requests from time to time,” she admitted.  “Stuff like ‘could you bring me one of Brookie’s tissues’.  It’s kinda creepy.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Aidan smothering a grin.  Malcolm burst into laughter.  Fran had to avert her eyes to stop herself from gazing at him and drooling.  Aidan was good-looking, but Malcolm was gorgeous even when compared to Rico.  Fran was just about willing to admit that she’d probably had a crush on Malcolm while he’d been her bodyguard, although she told herself very firmly that she’d moved on.