Pokrewne

Start
Chelsea Handler Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang (epub
Brit Brinson [Dia of the Dead Dia of the Dead (epub)
Cody Goodfellow [Radiant Dawn Radiant Dawn (epub)
Cate Tiernan [Immortal Belove Immortal Beloved (epub)
C J Busby [Deep Amber 01] Deep Amber (retail) (epub)
Carl Ashmore [Time Hunters 01 The Time Hunters (epub)
Drew Hayes [Super Powereds 02 Super Powereds Year 2 (epub) i
Beth Harbison [Shoe Addict 02 Secrets of a Shoe Addict (epub)
Cara Lynn Shultz [Dark World The Dark World (retail) (epub)
Ben Patterson [Living on the Living in Freefall (epub)

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.Consequently he needs defending.Constable Bell and I will discuss how best that may be achieved, Have I your permission to use your telephone?’‘But - ‘ She compressed her lips suddenly as though she had decided to put her mouth under restraint.Mitchell knew the expression of old, just as he recognised her dilemma: she had realised at last that what had happened could neither be shrugged off nor ignored, but that meant she must either accept or deny his story in the certain knowledge that she was opening the door to nightmare whatever she did.She simply didn’t know what to do.‘The phone’s in the sitting room, Dr Audley,’ he said, resolving her dilemma for her.‘Down the hallway on the left.I’ll show you.’‘It’s not necessary, sir,’ said Constable Bell.‘We’ll find the way.If you’d follow me, Dr Audley.’‘Very good, Constable.Say about a quarter of an hour, Mr Mitchell?’Mitchell and his mother looked at each other.‘Paul, what’s happening?’‘What’s happening now, I haven’t the least idea.What happened on the way here was exactly as I told it.Mother.Did you really think I jumped in the river?’‘I didn’t know what to think - there was that note - ‘The note.That at least was something real which told him he hadn’t simply fallen in and hit his head and dreamed the whole horror all by himself.‘How did you get it?’‘It was lying there on the mat.It must have come through the letter-box - it wasn’t there when I went to switch on the news.When I came out to start your supper I saw it there.’‘And so you phoned the police?’She looked at him so brokenly that he instandy regretted the harshness of his words.And, damn it, what else could he expect? His paper, his typewriter, his ink and his signature, all fitting in with her own prejudices.‘Did you go out today.Mother?’‘Go out, dear? You know I always have lunch with Betty Tyier today.’Lunch with Mrs Tyier, then an afternoon’s shopping.‘So the house was empty most of the day?’‘Only in the afternoon, dear.Mrs Johnson’s here until one o’clock.’Still plenty of time for anyone to search the place for what they needed after the cleaning woman had gone.But why? Why did it have to be suicide? And why did it have to be Paul Mitchell, out of millions?‘Darling, I - ‘ her voice quavered ‘ - I didn’t mean to - I didn’t know what to do.’Suddenly he wanted to hug her.Everyone always took it for granted that Mother had a way of turning accidents into disasters, but - Christ! - this wasn’t an accident, but pure murderous malevolence, cold and calculated.It was no wonder she’d proved no match for it.‘Poor old Mum!’ he draped a damp arm round her shoulders.‘You aren’t the only one who doesn’t know what to do - and who doesn’t know what’s happening.’She looked at him doubtfully, dropping her gaze to his suit when she found no consolation in his face.‘But you must get out of these things - I don’t know whether they’ll ever be good enough to wear again - ‘She tugged vaguely at the crumpled lapels.Then the moment of merciful practicality passed, presumably as she remembered how the clothes had become unwearable.‘But Paul, what are we going to do?’He gently disengaged her hands.‘We’re going to see what our friend Dr Audley has to say first.Mother.That’s what we’re going to.’‘Then you really do know him?’‘Did I look as if I didn’t?’The suspicion on her face reminded him that there were times when she could see clear through a brick wall with disconcerting accuracy.‘As a matter of fact I met him for the first time just this afternoon.’‘At the museum?’‘At the institute.But don’t ask me what he wanted, Mother dear.’‘Why not?’‘Because you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.And even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to make head nor tail of it.Just you make us all a lot of hot, strong coffee while I get myself respectable.I think we’re going to need it.’Introducing Constable Bell to the Hindenburg Line was enough for one night, without trying to take Mother back even further, to the forgotten battle lines of the Somme.By avoiding the second and fifth treads on the staircase and timing the click of the door to coincide with the chimes of the hallway clock, Mitchell reached the sitting room without alerting his mother in the kitchen.With any luck, he reckoned he had maybe five clear minutes before her patience gave way to suspicion.Their business, whatever it had been, was completed.Audley sat relaxed in the big armchair beside the fire, the Terraine biography of Douglas Haig open on his knee.Constable Bell hovered within reach of the telephone, as though expecting a call on a line which might have become hot.The big man shut the book decisively and stood up.‘”The educated soldier”?’He held the book up, weighing it specula-lively.‘Was he educated before the war or by it?’ Mitchell recalled the afternoon’s dialogue; Audley wasn’t always interested in getting answers to his questions - he used them also like covering fire to keep his adversary’s head down while he developed his line of attack.And the only answer to that was to fire back, ignoring them.‘Why does someone want me dead?’Audley smiled slowly.‘You can’t think of any reason?’‘No.’‘Then neither can I - yet.’Maybe that was something less than the truth - in fact the man’s presence contradicted it - but the ‘yet’ promised a pinpoint of light at the end of a long dark tunnel.‘But you do believe me?’‘Why shouldn’t I?’Mitchell looked at Constable Bell quickly, then back at Audley.‘Have you seen my suicide note?’‘I have, yes.’‘Then you obviously don’t believe it - why don’t you believe it?’‘You’re right, Mr Mitchell…’Audley paused, then shook his head.‘I don’t believe it.’‘Why not?’‘Shall we say - your old tutor has confidence in your scholarship, and I have confidence in your tutor’s judgement? And in my judgement you exhibited no suicidal tendencies this afternoon.You seemed to be working quite happily.’Audley paused again, his head on one side.‘And I have even more confidence in my own judgement - does that satisfy you?’It was pure flummery: not so much a smokescreen as a little probing attack to test how easily he could be turned inside out, with no awkward questions asked [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]