Forever Mine: A Fun and Flirty Romantic Mystery (Amber Reed Mystery Book 3) Read online

  Amelia sighs and leans back in her chair, covering her eyes with her hands. “Look, thanks so much for coming over but maybe the two of you should just go to the chalet and get settled in.”

  “I don’t think so,” Charlie replies.

  “Please,” Amelia says. “I’ll be fine. They said they might let me go and sit in his room until he wakes. You know, so somebody is there as soon as he opens his eyes. But they’ll only let me go in so there’s no point in the two of you waiting around. Please, go back to the chalet. I asked Greg, the chef at my chalet, to get you to come straight here because, at that time, I didn’t know how serious things were but now I know Ty’s going to be OK.”

  “Come on, Charlie,” I say, tugging at his arm. “Let’s head back like Amelia suggests. You’ll let us know how things go?”

  She nods and flashes me a grateful look. Reluctantly Charlie closes his notebook and gets to his feet.

  We arrive back at the chalet, minds in a whirl. As soon as we pull up the same man from earlier appears on the driveway, looking marginally less stressed this time around.

  “Come inside, it’s bitter out here today,” he says as he beckons us towards the steps. “Here, let me help you with those.” He reaches to take my suitcase from Charlie.

  I close the door behind us, noticing how heavy and solid it is. I suppose it has to be to keep the fierce winter winds and blizzards out.

  “I’m Greg, the chef and chalet manager,” the man says as we all stand in the cosy hallway feeling awkward.

  “My wife Bethan is the housekeeper, and your chambermaid will be Hannah,” he continues. “If you need anything then somebody is around twenty four hours a day. Just use the phone in your suite and press zero. Would you like to go straight up to your room or would you prefer a hot toddy and cake in the lounge by the fire first?”

  “Our room please,” I say on behalf of both of us. The hot toddy, cake and real fire do sound appealing but I’m ready for a soak in a bath and freshen up after the drama of Ty’s shooting. Travelling always makes me feel grubby as well.

  The man nods and sets off down a corridor, pulling my suitcase and saying, “Follow me!”

  The carpet is so thick beneath my feet I fear I may sink so far in to it that I’ll disappear. All around us are what look like expensive paintings, furniture and ornaments. I’m glad Greg, not me, is manoeuvring my case en route to our room. By now I’d have probably knocked something over.

  “I hate to bother you by asking,” Greg says as he leads us to our room, “but how is Mr Dawson doing?”

  “He’s going to be fine,” I reply. “The bullet grazed his leg so he’s sedated at the moment and they want to keep him in for a few days, you know to rest, but then he should be home.”

  “Oh, that is a relief,” Greg sighs, a hand fluttering to his chest.

  I just manage to stifle a gasp when he opens the door to our room. It’s like something from the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Even the huge wooden four poster bed looks lost, the room is so vast.

  Greg picks up a remote control from a unit at the bottom of the bed.

  “You’ll find that everything in here can be operated from this control,” Greg says mainly, I notice, addressing his comments to Charlie. Do I not look capable of operating a remote control?

  “This button,” he continues, “is for the television.” As he speaks an enormous flat screen TV pops up from a mahogany unit across the room.

  “And these ones are for the heating and air conditioning. This will control water temperature for the spa bath and the shower experience. There’s also a heated mattress on the bed which you can switch on by pressing this button here.”

  Shower experience? What’s a shower experience?

  I zone out and take a stroll around the room as Greg continues with his operating instructions. There are two sets of French doors which appear to open to our personal balcony. A wall behind the bed encourages me to be nosey (it doesn’t take much) so I duck around it and discover his and hers walk-in wardrobes. Another door leads to the bathroom.

  I have never seen a bathroom this size.

  There’s a double size spa bath, a separate shower for two (is that the experience?) and a wall of mirrors behind a counter with two sinks sporting gold taps. There’s even a TV.

  “Quite something huh?”

  I turn to see Charlie standing in the doorway.

  “I’m speechless,” I reply.

  “Well, let’s make the most of that rare moment then.” In one second Charlie is across the room and pulling me into a kiss.

  Charlie and I have been together now for ten months. I’d say ten completely blissful months but then I’d be lying. And I’m a rubbish liar. My cheeks go all red and I get flustered. It’s been ten mostly blissful months. Some of the time we were together we were also apart, if you see what I mean, because I was off doing my CCIA training and Charlie was working agency cases all over the globe.

  Anyway, back to the mostly part. Naturally neither Charlie nor I are perfect. We clash over things and we both have the sometimes useful and sometimes obstructive personality trait of stubbornness. Which, of course, can lead to issues.

  I love Charlie and I told him so. Admittedly it was really bad timing as I said it in the middle of an argument about him and another woman. Charlie didn’t immediately reciprocate with I love you too but he did a day later. Well, I think he did. We were on a ferry at the time, I was feeling seasick, there were huge waves, a lot of boat engine noise and screeching seagulls. I think he whispered in my ear that he loved me but it could just have been wishful thinking on my part.

  “Did you take notes on how to use the remote control?” I tease when our lips eventually part.

  Charlie shakes his head. “No need. There’s a hefty instruction manual on the coffee table.”

  “I’m struggling to believe we get to stay here,” I say. “I’m not accustomed to this kind of living.”

  “Working for the agency means you end up staying in all sorts of places and most of the time they are nothing like this so make the most of it!”

  Our first case together involved us staying in a charming but pretty basic cottage on a remote Scottish island so I decide he’s right. I’m going to try and enjoy our chalet stay as much as it’s possible to when you’re working on a case.

  “Greg left us an envelope which I’ve just opened. It contains a list of chalet guests. Amelia must have already put it together for us, before the shooting. Oh and he said dinner will be served in about an hour. In Amelia’s absence Ty’s mum and dad will be hosting the meal apparently,” Charlie says as he leans against the doorframe.

  “Strange they’re not at the hospital don’t you think?”

  He nods. “Yeah, I thought the same. Wonder what that’s about?”

  “You know, sometimes I love this job but other times…” I pause, looping my arms around Charlie’s waist. “Other times, it terrifies me. People being shot at, being stalked, murdered. It’s scary stuff.”

  Charlie hugs me tight. “Makes you realise you’ve got to make the most of your life while you can, doesn’t it?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “I still feel guilty,” I say as I watch Charlie undress, scatter his clothes all over the bathroom floor, and climb into the other side of the double bath. “We shouldn’t be indulging in all this luxury; we’re here to work.”

  “Are you the same woman who wanted to go to a fancy Highland party up at the manor house on our last case? I seem to recall being the one to protest on that occasion that we shouldn’t be off learning how to do Scottish country dancing but carrying out an investigation instead.”

  I flick soapy water at him playfully. He’s right. Life is precious. Love also. Moments like this are special. “That was because you didn’t want to have to wear a kilt for the Scottish country dancing,” I tease.

  “True. That kilt was draughty and made me feel very uncomfortable. Anyway, like I said before, it’s not often we
get to sample this kind of luxury, the agency is very tight with the old expenses budget, so on this occasion, as sampling the luxury is an intrinsic part of the case, I say we make the best of the situation. Plus, Ty is going to be fine, thankfully, so we don’t have to worry on that front. What we do have to worry about though is getting to grips with this case and finding this stalker. Unfortunately we can’t go through everything with Amelia until tomorrow when she gets back from the hospital but, for now, we can make a start on familiarising ourselves with our fellow guests before dinner tonight.”

  Sounds good to me. “Where do we start with going through this guest list Amelia left with Greg for us then?”

  “Well, obviously we can eliminate Ennis and Siobhan from our enquiries unless your university boyfriend has recently taken up sharp-shooting.”

  “Ha ha, very funny. I’d say it seems an unlikely list of candidates because everyone on here is either family or a friend of Amelia’s. But I seem to recall you telling me once that victims often know those stalking, threatening or injuring them.”

  “So you do listen to me sometimes then,” he teases. “Right, let’s begin our investigation at the top of the list and see who has motive to want to scare Amelia. After that we assess any likely candidates.”

  I shudder and dip down a little further in the hot and sweetly scented bath water. “Why doesn’t she get herself a couple of bodyguards?”

  “I think she hates the idea of having people traipsing around after her everywhere. It must be tough being famous. It can be difficult enough to get some private time and personal space. I’ve seen it drive some celebs insane.” Charlie rests his head back against the rim of the tub. “So, whose name is at the top of this guest list then?”

  I dry my hands on a towel draped over the edge of the bath and reach for the list. “Staying in the Topaz Suite we have Fern and Howard Dawson.”

  “Ty’s parents?” Charlie checks. “Who else have we got on the list?”

  “Fran and Spencer Curran are staying in the Emerald Suite. Fran is an old friend of Amelia’s from drama school.”

  “She’s an actress too then?” he asks.

  “Not sure, if she is then I don’t think she’s in the spotlight like Amelia is. I’ll get a background check done on her and her husband.”

  “Right. Next?”

  “Residing in the Amethyst Suite we have Micky Adamson and his latest girlfriend Pammie Cleeves. He’s an actor.”

  I check the digital clock on the wall. “It looks as though working through the rest of this list will have to wait for now. We need to get dressed and down to the dining room to meet our suspects in person.”

  An hour later we’re all seated around a grand mahogany dining table making small talk as the bowls from our starter of broccoli and Stilton soup are removed by Greg’s wife Bethan and the chalet’s chambermaid Hannah.

  Everyone, much as I suspected, is all dressed up. I have no idea if the suits and dresses are all Prada or not but I think there’s a very high probability they are. I opted for a navy velvet dress which is definitely more high street than designer but I hope I don’t look too out of place.

  Ennis is seated next to me, Charlie, in black trousers and open neck blue shirt, is opposite. I know we’re here to track down Amelia’s stalker and the mystery of who shot Ty but it is lovely having the chance to catch up with Ennis and Siobhan again as well. He’s been filming in Australia for the past few months, and Siobhan, having made her sabbatical from her airline stewardess job permanent, joined him out there.

  “So, Charlie, you and Amber are still an item then huh?” Ennis says with a chuckle. “I’d have thought she’d have driven you insane by now!”

  I kick him under the table. “Hey!”

  “I’m just about managing to keep my sanity intact so far,” Charlie replies, playing along and winking at me.

  I lean closer to Ennis and lower my voice. “How are you doing these days? It’s been a year since…”

  “Since Joel was murdered. It’s OK, Amber, you can say it. It’s still tough going if you let your thoughts dwell on it but I try not to let that happen too often.”

  “And your parents? How are they doing?”

  “Mum’s in therapy still but I think Dad’s all right. Mostly, anyway. To be honest filming on location out in Australia came at just the right time. It was a very welcome distraction. Being out there got us out of the media spotlight which suited me just fine. Since we got back there’s been a little flicker of interest from some of the papers but not much, thankfully. For them, Joel’s murder is old news now.”

  “So how do you two know Amelia?” a female voice interrupts.

  “I’m Fran,” the woman in question adds. “I was at drama school with Amelia.” She tugs on the arm of the man sitting next to her. “And this is my husband Spencer.”

  Spencer nods and smiles but says nothing.

  “So?” Fran prompts. “How do you two know Amelia?”

  “I’ve worked with her a few times,” Charlie replies, lying easily.

  Fran’s eyes light up. “Oh, you’re in the film industry? Actor? Director?”

  “Neither. I’m in the safety business. I provide specialist security.”

  “You mean you’re a bodyguard?” She frowns. “I wasn’t aware Amelia needed a bodyguard these days. Is that what happens when you win an Oscar then?”

  “I’m not a bodyguard and I’m certainly not here on business. This trip is purely for pleasure,” Charlie replies smoothly.

  “So what sort of security do you supply?” she asks.

  Persistent little madam isn’t she?

  “Whatever type of security is required,” Charlie says then takes a sip of his drink.

  “Secret stuff. Right. I see.” Fran nods. “Unfortunately our lives are as far from the showbiz lifestyle as you can get. Spencer is an office manager and I’m a personal assistant. All your average boring nine to five stuff.”

  “So you never followed up on drama school and pursued acting as a career then?” I ask.

  “No, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be, no matter how much I tried.” Fran turns to her husband and changes the subject. “Darling, what did you order for dinner this evening?”

  I take it Fran isn’t keen on talking about her own acting career then. Or rather her lack of an acting career. My nosiness kicks in. She’s holding back and I want to know why. I’m itching to get to the bottom of her story but for now I let it go. There will be better opportunities. I’ll try to get her alone. She might be more likely to talk then.

  “It’s so sad that Amelia and Ty can’t be with us tonight,” says Ty’s father as he stands up, raising a glass in a toast. “I’m sure you’ll all join me in wishing Ty a speedy recovery from his accident. As soon as the doctors declare him to be well enough my wife and I will be taking him straight home with us to London where we can ensure he receives the best of care during his recuperation.”

  So his mummy and daddy are planning on whisking Ty off to their home in London, are they? I wonder if Amelia knows about that?

  After we’ve all enjoyed a dinner worthy of a Michelin starred restaurant we congregate in the lounge and make pleasant chit-chat over what is probably eye watering expensive Cognac. The flames of the fire are still licking at the air and lending a soporific warmth to proceedings.

  I look around, trying to take in as much detail as I can. I’m still trying to perfect the visual sweep which the other CCIA agents I’ve worked with do so quickly and easily. Charlie is brilliant at checking out a room in a matter of seconds. Bad boy Dan Stone, Charlie’s nemesis, can do it without even looking as though he’s scoping a room. Ditto for man-eater Martha, who I worked with on a case involving a murdered pop star on a Scottish island. In one discreet glance it always seems as though they have the measure of a room and its occupants. My visual sweeps however are not nearly so covert or effective yet. I wonder if they ever will be.

  I spot Howard Dawson helping himself to
another drink and wander towards him.

  “Mr Dawson, I’m so sorry to hear about Ty’s accident. How dreadful for you and your wife to have to go through all of this. You both must have been so worried about him.”

  He nods then sips his drink before replying. “Terrible business. It would never have happened if he hadn’t got himself involved with showbiz types.”

  “But…” I’m about to quiz him further when he cuts off any further conversation between us.

  “I have to go and check on my wife. She had a headache during dinner and wasn’t very well at all.”

  I watch him walk away. Oh well, so much for trying to find out any useful information there.

  On the far wall of the room I spot a gallery of black and white photos, all in the same cream frames. I wander over to take a closer look. Some of the photos document the various stages of the chalet being built; some are landscapes of the mountains. The majority though are of people. I lean closer and work my way through them, from top left to bottom right, trying to figure out if any of the people in the pictures are recognisable.

  “I see you and Charlie are still going strong.”

  I jump at the voice, so close to my ear. Siobhan. She envelopes me in a perfume-scented hug. I’m still getting used to this version of Siobhan. All she used to do was glare at me. Now she acts as though we’re the best of friends.

  “Hi, Siobhan,” I smile. “You’re looking very well. It looks as though Australia agreed with you.”

  “Thanks. You too. Though in your case I would say it’s dating sexy Charlie that’s got you looking so well.” She lowers her voice. “How’s the job going?”

  “Good. Mostly. There’s a lot to learn but the agency guys are helping me loads,” I whisper back.

  “I bet there is,” Siobhan replies. “Still, must be good to take a break in surroundings like this huh? I bet you’re in need of a holiday.”

  I nod then raise my voice to normal volume. “So how do you know Amelia then?”