Read Online Angel Touch by Mike Ripley - Free Book Online Page B

‘Who’s Terry?’ at Sal as Alec opened another door at the end of the corridor.
    â€˜Terry Patterson. He’s our head of Security Systems,’ Sal whispered.
    â€˜Your boss?’
    â€˜On this one, yeah.’
    Alec led us into a dining-room complete with oak table, four place settings and a cruet that would have paid off my mortgage if I’d had one. At the far end was a bar.
    â€˜We’ve got everything except beer,’ Alec said proudly, waving a glass in my direction.
    â€˜Tequila Sunrise, please.’ I hate show-offs.
    â€˜Er ... sorry ...’ Alec looked in one of the cupboards. ‘Except beer and tequila.’
    â€˜Just the orange juice then, please.’
    â€˜Coming up. Perrier, Salome?’
    â€˜Yes, please,’ she said as if she knew she didn’t have a choice.
    We all three swirled ice cubes around for a minute, then Alec decided somebody had better speak.
    â€˜I don’t think you told me what you do, Roy.’
    â€˜Oh good,’ I quipped. ‘I wasn’t that drunk, then.’
    â€˜Now don’t be hostile, Angel,’ Salome mediated. ‘Alec and I are in this together.’
    I nodded sagely.
    â€˜So Terry’s the one to watch, eh?’
    Alec didn’t say anything, but he looked at Salome as if to say, ‘He’s not daft, is he?’
    â€˜Don’t worry, love,’ I reassured her, ‘I’ll be on my best behaviour. By the way, it’s the funny flat knife for fish, isn’t it?’
    She tried to smile, but it ended as a shrug of the shoulders. Behind me, the door handle clicked, and she jumped about an inch with nerves.
    â€˜Here we go,’ I said under my breath. ‘Lock and load.’
    â€˜Morning everyone, sorry to keep you waiting.’
    Patterson breezed into the room. He was a big bloke and looked bigger, because his suit jacket had shoulder pads Joan Collins would have envied. His blond hair was cropped short at the back, but a long shock fell carefully over his right eye, and I just knew he would have to brush it aside every 90 seconds or so. He didn’t look old enough to be a Prefect, let alone Salome’s boss.
    â€˜Terry, let me introduce Roy Angel. Terry Patterson, Roy Angel,’ said Alec.
    â€˜Good to meet you,’ he boomed, crushing my hand. How did he know it was going to be good? ‘Glad you could make it. Let’s eat and talk.’
    â€˜Sure,’ I said, being friendly. ‘Time must be money to you guys.’
    â€˜Isn’t it to everyone? There just aren’t enough hours in a day.’
    He took his place at the head of the table and pressed a bell-push attached to the table leg.
    â€˜I don’t agree,’ I said. ‘My Rule of Life No 19 is that if a job can’t be done between nine and five, you’re either understaffed or totally inefficient.’
    Patterson looked surprised. Not impressed, just surprised. I’d got that reaction before, and always from people with jobs. That’s why I prefer to be my own boss.
    The door opened behind me, and Patterson looked over my shoulder.
    â€˜Ah, here’s Mrs Pilgrim. What’s the recipe today?’
    I bet myself he said it every day, and this was confirmed by the soft but distinct sound of Salome grinding her teeth and Alec looking straight down at his empty place setting.
    â€˜If it’s Thursday, it’s Chinese, Mr Patterson; you should know that by now.’ Good for her, I thought. ‘Crab and water chestnut soup, duck in hoisin sauce and then lychee sorbet.’
    If I’d been expecting some ageing Lyons Corner House clippy waitress in black dress and white starched pinny, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
    â€˜Mrs Pilgrim’ turned out to be a tall, long-haired brunette wearing black leather trousers tucked into high-heeled boots and a long, white frilled shirt – a man’s dress shirt – outside them. She had a