Read Online Black Mail (2012) by Bill Daly - Free Book Online Page A

you have time for a coffee?’
    ‘No. Can’t stop.’ Dropping his briefcase onto the chair in the hall he loped up the stairs. He closed his study door, turned the key in the lock and switched on his computer. Paging quickly through his files until he found the photo he was looking for he hit the print key. He studied the image carefully, then folded the sheet of paper twice and slipped it into the zip-up section at the back of his wallet before reaching for the phone and tapping in a number.
    It was answered on the second ring. ‘Hello, Laura Harrison speaking.’
    ‘Laura, it’s me.’ He spoke in a hoarse whisper, his hand covering the mouthpiece.
    There was a stunned silence. ‘Oh, it’s you, Alison. For a minute there I didn’t recognise your voice. Shame you couldn’t make it to Jude’s last night. You missed a good evening.’
    ‘Shit! Is Mike there?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘I have to see you!’
    ‘When do they reckon the snow will clear?’
    ‘I have to see you straight away. It’s an emergency. Meet me in Rogano’s in half an hour.’ He hung up without waiting for her response.
    ‘I’m glad you’re able to get out and about now.’ Laura spoke to the dialling tone. ‘Give me a call the next time you’re in town and we’ll meet up for lunch. Give Norman my love. Bye.’ She replaced the receiver slowly.
    Simon unlocked the study door and crept down the staircase, taking care to avoid the squeaky step. Opening the front door as quietly as he could he stepped outside and tugged the door shut behind him. When Jude heard the tell-tale click of the Yale lock she went out to the hall. ‘In one of our more sociable moods, I see,’ she muttered in the general direction of the front door. As she turned back towards the kitchen her eye caught the briefcase lying on the chair. Snatching it up she wrenched the front door open, just in time to see Simon accelerating away from the kerb. She stood on tiptoe and waved the briefcase in the air and she kept on waving until the Jaguar had turned the corner into Park Gate. With a shake of the head she went back to the kitchen and dropped the case on the table. She picked up the phone and dialled Simon’s mobile number, spinning around with a start when she heard the ring tone coming from inside the briefcase.
    ‘Brilliant!’ She cut the connection and dialled his office number.
    ‘I’d like to leave a message for Simon Ramsay, please.’
    ‘I’m sorry, he won’t be in the office today.’
    ‘Really? Are you sure about that?’
    ‘He’s taken a few days off. Can anyone else help?’
    ‘No, thanks.’
    ‘Do you still want to leave a message?’
    ‘No message,’ Jude said, replacing the receiver.
     
    Laura Harrison slid onto the bench seat in the booth opposite Simon. Rogano’s was still quiet, the staff preparing for the imminent lunchtime rush.
    ‘What do you want to drink?’ he asked, nodding towards the half-full whisky tumbler clenched in his fist.
    ‘I don’t want anything to drink,’ she fumed. ‘What I want is a bloody explanation! And it had better be good. I’ve told you a hundred times
never
to call me at home.’
    Simon reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet, his eyes darting round the room to make sure no one was observing them. Opening the zipped compartment he produced the sheet of paper which he unfolded and slid across the table.
    Every vestige of colour seeped from Laura’s bruised face. The photograph had been taken looking down on the bed from above and most of her body was hidden by the naked torso lying on top of her. Her legs, bent at the knees, were splayed on either side of his buttocks and her arms were wrapped around his back, fingernails clawing at his shoulder blades. Her head was lolling on the pillow, her eyes shut, her tongue protruding slightly from parted lips. Simon’s face was buried in her neck, his hair falling forward and revealing the bald patch on the crown of his head.
    ‘Where in the