Read Online A Splash of Red by Antonia Fraser - Free Book Online

manner, something wheedling about his tone. Jemima glimpsed with no particular favour the handsome and indulged young man Kevin John had once been. She still didn't know whether to believe his assurance or not.
    Suddenly he leant forward and to her absolute surprise and horror planted a kiss full on her lips. The stubble on his chin grazed her skin and she wriggled backwards in her chair without being able to speak or do more than mutely struggle. His mouth was enormous; it was as if a gigantic fish were trying to gobble her up.
    'You're a darling, aren't you? A real sweetheart. You'll forgive me, won't you, sweetheart, because I'm going to say sorry so nicely to you. I'm going to be so utterly, utterly charming and pleasing—'
    For a moment Jemima thought he meant - no, surely even he—
    'I'm going to have a shower and a shave - I'm sure that' - he paused and then said in his naughty-boyish voice - 'that lady has a razor somewhere about. Then I'm going out and I shall buy you the biggest bunch of flowers in the whole of London, this bitch of a city, which frightens the daylights out of your poor honest artist even on a fine summer's morn.'
    'I don't want any flowers.' Her voice was low. 'I have no idea where Chloe is and now will you please go away and leave me alone.'
    'Oh, you'll never be quite alone here, sweetheart. Never quite without me. I'm a match for you, darling. Look - there's my picture looking down on you. A great wonderful splash of red for you. Still, if you really don't want me further, I'll leave you. Maybe my old pal Dixie is still in London; I have an idea we were drinking somewhere together last night. I couldn't get an answer from Creeping Croesus.' He passed his hand over his head as if the recollection pained him. 'He'll give me a razor and a bath. And then I'll buy you the flowers. Splashes and splashes of them. All red. Cheer up this whited sepulchre of hers.' Jemima hated red flowers.
    'You really have no need to apologize further,' she said coldly. 'You were drunk.'
    'Ah, sweetheart, the flowers won't be an apology. They're to woo you, to please you, and then with your matchless wits, Miss Jemima Shore, Investigator, you'll find Miss Chloe Fontaine for me. I know you will.'
    'Please go away. Unlock the door and go away—' And then to her further surprise he did. He unlocked the door, deposited the keys carefully on the table, and left. She noticed once again the lightness with which his shambling body could move. Kevin John did not, however, shut the door behind him and she lacked the energy to get up. She heard his footsteps on the uncarpeted stairs, loud, thumping all the way to the front door. It was a long way down. The street door was opened. She did not hear it shut.
    Jemima regained her energy and walked unsteadily to the balcony. She looked over. Amidst the desultory passers-by on the pavement of the huge Bloomsbury square below, Kevin John in his bright blue shirt was easy to pick out. He wove through the traffic and disappeared in the direction of the British Museum. It was not much more than twelve hours since she had looked for Chloe in the same square and missed her.
    He was definitely gone. She was alone. Except for— 'Tiger!' she cried aloud. 'Tiger!' Oh no! Tiger, last heard mewing with outrage when Kevin John had precipitately pushed her inside the door and relocked it, leaving the cat either by design or mistake on the wrong side of it. She had no clear memory of hearing any further mews, but then the ensuing scene had been sufficiently violent to drown the plaints of an excluded cat. Tiger was certainly nowhere to be seen or heard now. He had not chosen to return by the balcony window. She wondered whether a cat would ascend the scaffolding of Adelaide Square all the way from the street. She must go downstairs and look for him. Perhaps he had vanished into the darkened basement area, the last lap of the long staircase.
    Remembering to take the keys, and deciding it was prudent