Read Online Cherringham--The Last Puzzle by Neil Richards - Free Book Online

“But I’m useless at these things so even if I could help — I wouldn’t be much help, if you know what I mean!”
    “Hmm, yes. I think so.” She paused. “Perhaps it means shares — you know? Like stocks and shares.”
    “Maybe. It sure is a tricky one,” Jack said. “How are you doing with the other clues?”
    “I’ve only got two,” she said with a sigh. “It’s a shame isn’t it? All that money. I had thought that maybe Mr. Andrews would leave me a little bit, you know? A thousand or something? As a thank you. It does happen sometimes. It’s not a lot of money, is it? Not to him, but it would be to me.”
    She looked away, and Jack had to think about her partner, the bullish Marty.
    Would that money mean a shot at freedom for her?
    “But you see — this competition’s a bit silly really, I don’t know why I’m doing it. Fact, I think maybe I’ll stop. I should be trying to get another job, get on with my life … not running around fooling myself I could get rich.”
    Jack watched her. Trying to picture her with the big, blustering figure of Marty, her supposed ‘boyfriend’. Could she have done something that led to Quentin Andrews death?
    It was hard to imagine.
    But then Jack had seen violent men — and abused women — act in dark partnerships before now.
    “Did you like him?” he said.
    “Mr. Andrews?” said Emma. “Oh yes, he was lovely. Most of the time. And so polite.”
    “How long did you work for him?”
    “Ooh, I don’t know. Three years? Four?”
    “Full time?”
    “Only days — not nights. He could still get himself up to bed, you know. Didn’t like to be too dependent.”
    “And did he like you?”
    She hesitated. “I think so,” she said. “I hope so.”
    He saw her shiver and pull her coat tight.
    “Cold out here,” Jack said.
    She nodded quickly. “It is.”
    “Can I buy you a tea, Emma?”
    Another bit of hesitation. Then: “I’d love one.”
    “Come on then. Huffington’s doesn’t look too full. I might even stretch to a cake, how about that?”
    Emma smiled and Jack realised he hadn’t seen her smile at all — and that it quite lit up her face.
    He turned with her and they threaded their way through the parked cars towards the teashop.
    As they did, Jack recognised the figure of James Carlisle in the front seat of a parked black BMW.
    He saw Carlisle nod at him and then climb out of the BMW, holding a notepad.
    When they reached the entrance to Huffington’s, Jack turned and looked back across the street: Carlisle was now standing in front of the stocks. Jack watched him jot down a brief note in his pad, then head back towards his car.
    And Jack thought: seems like the competitors for the millions are starting to fall over each other …
    *
    Jack watched Emma as she pecked at her chocolate cake like a caged bird.
    “It must have been awful for you … the day Quentin died,” said Jack.
    “I feel bad that I wasn’t there. If I had been, maybe …”
    “You’d left for the day?”
    “I did his tea. Washed up. He was looking forward to his chess game.”
    “His pills just didn’t work this time, I guess.”
    “Um … It happened too quickly I suppose.”
    “You guessing … that he didn’t try to take them?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “He didn’t have his pills with him?”
    “I think — he did, I mean he always did. But …”
    “Maybe they were just too far away?”
    “I don’t really like to think about it.”
    Jack watched her carefully as she picked up her chocolate cake again. Did she know where his questions were leading?
    “Tell me about Marty,” he said, changing the subject.
    “Did he do something bad?” she said quickly, putting down the cake. “He said you were at the house. He gets over excited sometimes, he doesn’t mean it … He’s a good sort really. Bit rough, around the edges, but—”
    “He was fine,” said Jack, wondering quite how to phrase the next question. “But you know, it was quite a surprise