Read Online A Grave Waiting by Jill Downie - Free Book Online

to share his white nights with him after a session at the club. His record collection was exceptional, as was his wine cellar, but it was not a habit Moretti could indulge too often.
    â€œNot a chance. That’s why I’m here.”
    â€œSo this is work related?”
    â€œYou could say that.”
    The dog ran ahead of them into the house, and was joined by his female companion, who made straight for Moretti.
    â€œHi, Mercedes. Remember me? I hope.”
    The ridgeback sniffed Moretti’s extended hand and wagged her tail, then joined her mate. Together the four of them moved through the entrance hall on the right-hand side of the house, leaving a huge space to the left as a living area. This was covered by a pale blue Kirman carpet that extended the full width of the room. The décor and furniture were in spare, modern lines, the tones neutral, the paintings on the wall abstract. There were no photographs, no mementos of past lives or loves. The only indication of Ludo Ross’s former academic occupation was the built-in mahogany bookcase that lined the walls from floor to ceiling.
    Moretti accepted his host’s offer of a beer, and waited until he came back, watched by the two dogs, who seemed relaxed, although they didn’t settle until their master returned.
    â€œSo,” said Ross, handing Moretti a glass of the Guernsey Brewery’s Special Creamy Bitter, “what’s up?”
    â€œA body with a bullet in the head on a pricey Vento Teso in Victoria Marina, complete with a very pretty Porsche below decks, and a fortune in Euros in a safe in the bed-head.”
    Ludo Ross raised one bushy grey eyebrow. He surveyed Moretti over the top of his glass, took a gulp of beer, put down the glass, and smoothed his beard. “Not your average Guernsey crime. What do you know about the body?”
    â€œBernard Masterson, a Canadian engaged in international deal making. Big-scale stuff, we’re not talking widgets or ball bearings. According to his housekeeper, he just brokered a deal between Canada and Germany involving armoured personnel carriers.”
    There was a pause. Ross’s hand on his beard stopped moving and for a minute Moretti thought he was going to tell him something. Instead, he asked a question. “What was a chap like that doing in Guernsey? Even if he had dirty money tucked away here, he didn’t have to come near it.”
    â€œAll the more reason not to come here. We are making enquiries, of course, through Interpol and Scotland Yard, and we may yet have to bring someone in, but I’d just as soon we didn’t.”
    â€œArms dealing.”
    Ludo Ross got up from the seat opposite Moretti and moved toward one of the long windows facing the courtyard. Ludo Ross always seemed to be on the lookout, whether he was standing talking outside the club, or on his own driveway, taking in what was going on around him — an unexpected noise, a passing car, a passerby brushing against him.
    â€œYou’re in with some dangerous bastards there — at least, he was — many dirty and all of them devious.”
    â€œBy devious I assume you mean dishonest.”
    â€œDepends what you mean by dishonest. In the world of these guys there is no black or white, and little grey. Morals of any kind are not part of the equation.”
    â€œNo different from drug dealers.”
    â€œThey are the drug dealers. Or they often are. Gone are the days when international security forces pursued separate entities that specialized in drugs, or prostitution, or gun-running. Now the world is crisscrossed with a vast, intertwined chain connecting drugs, gun-running, you name it.”
    â€œA perfect fit for Masterson. He was described to me as a financier, a facilitator, and a middleman. When I asked for something more precise, I was told about the Canada-Germany deal.”
    â€œHe could indeed fit the frame. I’ll give you an example of what I mean: