Free Quest for Alexis by Nancy Buckingham Page A

couldn’t have made much sense of my incoherent story.
    “You do seem to have had a narrow escape,” said Brett when I stammered to an end. “But you must for get this crazy idea about someone trying to kill you, Gail. Obviously, it was just some drunk.” His hand went to his pocket. “I suppose I’d better pay off your escort.”
    Pedro understood the gesture, if not the words. He backed away, his manhood insulted.
    “No, not to pay money. I do not wish.” He turned to me, still concerned on my behalf. “You okay now, yes?”
    I nodded, pulling myself together and smiling at him.
    “Yes, I am okay now. Thank you for being so very kind and helpful, Pedro. And please thank your moth er again, too.”
    Brett surprised me by adding a few words in Span ish. With an oddly appealing little bow, the boy turned and walked off quickly.
    “Come on,” said Brett. “Let’s find a taxi and get back to the hotel.”
    “But shouldn’t we report this to the police? Someone tried to kill me.”
    “For God’s sake,” snapped Brett irritably. “You’ve said yourself there was nobody around when it hap pened, nobody who could back up your word. Just suppose we could get the police to believe your story that it was no accident, but done quite deliberately— what then? What could you tell them to help them track down the culprit? You couldn’t describe the car, could you? Or the driver?” He shot me a keen, probing look. “Well, could you?”
    I shook my head unhappily. “All the same ...”
    Brett cut across me. “The sum total of going to the police would be to start a lot of inquiries we don’t want. So far, Gail, we’ve been lucky. So far the press haven’t got on to the fact that you’re Alexis Karel’s niece who’s come to try and persuade him to return home. But if they do, and you stir up trouble with the police, just think of the headlines—‘Runaway’s niece claims some one tried to kill her.’”
    “All right, you’ve made your point. So we’ve just got to let him get away with it?”
    Brett pounced on the word. “Him?”
    “I mean, whoever was driving the car.”
    “Forget it, Gail. Put the incident right out of your mind. If there really was anything deliberate involved, and it wasn’t just a drunk driver who couldn’t control his car, then my guess is that it must have been some young hooligan who thought it would be fun to give you a scare.”
    “A scare? But I’d have been killed, I tell you, if that door hadn’t given way.”
    He nodded, frowning. “I realize you’ve had a nasty shock, but you mustn’t get it out of proportion. Honest ly, I should try and forget the whole thing, or you’ll finish up with a persecution complex.”
    It was easy for Brett to say forget it. But how could I ever forget that car roaring toward me with its headlights blazing, blinding me, almost touching the wall where I cowered helplessly?
    Brett found us a taxi, and I climbed in almost in a trance. I was so deeply absorbed that when Brett spoke his words hardly registered at first.
    “If you hadn’t gone off like that, Gail, I could have told you there isn’t a chance of finding Alexis in Palma. He’s skipped out. He’s left Majorca.”
    “Left Majorca?” I surfaced with a jolt. “Where is he, then?”
    It was dark in the taxi. Lights from outside gave me flashed glimpses of Brett’s face. I couldn’t read his expression, but he sounded pleased with himself, almost smug.
    “At the present moment your dear uncle and his girlf riend are somewhere at sea aboard afishing boat, heading for some destination unknown. They left this afternoon before we even arrived.”
    “But I don’t understand. Why weren’t we told at the hotel that they’d checked out? The desk clerk said—”
    “The desk clerk was no doubt well bribed by Alexis to put inquirers off the scent. Your uncle didn’t want anyone to know they’d left the island.”
    “But why not? What’s it all about, Brett? How did you