Read Online Concealment by Rose Edmunds - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rose Edmunds
Tags: Mystery
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skiing—tanned, beautiful, smiling and perfect in every way. Naturally, the shot did not include Smithies—his flabby pasty body could only have detracted from the flawless image.
The biggest bastards often favour conspicuous displays of family photographs in their offices, in which everyone is invariably grinning as though auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. It’s a psychological thing—a means of saying—hey get this, I’m a nice guy, my family is happy and if you don’t like me it’s your fault. Smithies had taken this concept to a new extreme.
The picture disturbed me on various levels, yet I found myself inexorably drawn to it as Smithies wrapped up his discussion.
‘Don’t you worry,’ came his quasi-sympathetic nasal whine. ‘She’s got far too much on her plate to focus on the detail.’
Silence, as the person on the other end of the line no doubt protested. I hoped he wasn’t talking about me.
He abruptly stopped preening himself in the glass and terminated the call when he saw me loitering.
‘Must shoot now—let’s talk later.’
He spun his chair round to face me.
‘Can’t you see I’m busy,’ he snapped.
‘Yes, but this is important. Thirty seconds of your time.’
‘OK—but calm down for heaven’s sake. You’re making me tense just watching you.’
So he thought I was on edge as well. I would have to redouble my efforts to act relaxed.
Smithies greeted the news with an almost infinitesimal movement of the eyebrows—he might have been a professional poker player in a previous incarnation.
‘I heard she and that cretin Ryan had a big row,’ said Smithies. ‘Perhaps that’s why she went off.’
‘Perhaps.’
His extra-sensory antennae twitched, detecting I had something new to conceal.
‘
Remember
,’ said Little Amy. ‘
You mustn’t allow him to psych you out
.’
I appreciated the reminder and steadied myself.
‘Frankly, I wouldn’t be too worried at this stage.’
‘I’m not worried—I just thought you should be aware, especially as Ryan’s involved the police.’
‘What a complete jerk that guy is—the police never act on a missing person report for the first twenty-four hours.’
‘From what Ryan said, they’ve launched a full-on enquiry. And it’s more than twenty-four hours anyway—it seems she went missing on Friday, after the drinks.’
‘I still reckon they’ll sit on it for a while.’
‘Ryan says she’s been abducted.’
‘Really—well, you were one of the last people to see her alive. You didn’t like her much did you…’
A wintry smile signalled that he was joking. But it made my flesh creep to listen to him talking as though she was dead.
‘Not as much as you, no,’ I replied, with obvious innuendo.
No flicker of a reaction.
‘I suppose you’ve tried calling her?’
‘What’s the point? Wherever she is, her phone isn’t with her.’
He tut-tutted.
‘
I’ll
try,’ he said. Clearly, dead or alive, and with or without her phone, she wouldn’t
dare
to ignore a call from him.
‘Do you have her number?’
‘It’s on the system.’
With some effort Smithies brought the number up on screen and dialled. So either she wasn’t on speed dial on his phone, or he was bright enough to pretend otherwise, I thought.
‘Voicemail,’ he pronounced.
‘Told you.’
‘Well, I’m sure she’ll be back before long,’ he said. ‘Although this is completely inappropriate behaviour from someone who’s been double promoted. Hope it hasn’t gone to her head.’
Two things struck me about Smithies’ reaction to the news. First, if he was having a fling with Isabelle, he hid it astoundingly well. And second, whether he was or not, he seemed blithely indifferent to her fate.
‘By the way,’ he said, as I was leaving. ‘You were right about the chicken. Been puking up half the weekend.’
‘What a shame,’ I replied.
10
Smithies’ confident prediction of police inactivity proved to be somewhat wide of
The biggest bastards often favour conspicuous displays of family photographs in their offices, in which everyone is invariably grinning as though auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. It’s a psychological thing—a means of saying—hey get this, I’m a nice guy, my family is happy and if you don’t like me it’s your fault. Smithies had taken this concept to a new extreme.
The picture disturbed me on various levels, yet I found myself inexorably drawn to it as Smithies wrapped up his discussion.
‘Don’t you worry,’ came his quasi-sympathetic nasal whine. ‘She’s got far too much on her plate to focus on the detail.’
Silence, as the person on the other end of the line no doubt protested. I hoped he wasn’t talking about me.
He abruptly stopped preening himself in the glass and terminated the call when he saw me loitering.
‘Must shoot now—let’s talk later.’
He spun his chair round to face me.
‘Can’t you see I’m busy,’ he snapped.
‘Yes, but this is important. Thirty seconds of your time.’
‘OK—but calm down for heaven’s sake. You’re making me tense just watching you.’
So he thought I was on edge as well. I would have to redouble my efforts to act relaxed.
Smithies greeted the news with an almost infinitesimal movement of the eyebrows—he might have been a professional poker player in a previous incarnation.
‘I heard she and that cretin Ryan had a big row,’ said Smithies. ‘Perhaps that’s why she went off.’
‘Perhaps.’
His extra-sensory antennae twitched, detecting I had something new to conceal.
‘
Remember
,’ said Little Amy. ‘
You mustn’t allow him to psych you out
.’
I appreciated the reminder and steadied myself.
‘Frankly, I wouldn’t be too worried at this stage.’
‘I’m not worried—I just thought you should be aware, especially as Ryan’s involved the police.’
‘What a complete jerk that guy is—the police never act on a missing person report for the first twenty-four hours.’
‘From what Ryan said, they’ve launched a full-on enquiry. And it’s more than twenty-four hours anyway—it seems she went missing on Friday, after the drinks.’
‘I still reckon they’ll sit on it for a while.’
‘Ryan says she’s been abducted.’
‘Really—well, you were one of the last people to see her alive. You didn’t like her much did you…’
A wintry smile signalled that he was joking. But it made my flesh creep to listen to him talking as though she was dead.
‘Not as much as you, no,’ I replied, with obvious innuendo.
No flicker of a reaction.
‘I suppose you’ve tried calling her?’
‘What’s the point? Wherever she is, her phone isn’t with her.’
He tut-tutted.
‘
I’ll
try,’ he said. Clearly, dead or alive, and with or without her phone, she wouldn’t
dare
to ignore a call from him.
‘Do you have her number?’
‘It’s on the system.’
With some effort Smithies brought the number up on screen and dialled. So either she wasn’t on speed dial on his phone, or he was bright enough to pretend otherwise, I thought.
‘Voicemail,’ he pronounced.
‘Told you.’
‘Well, I’m sure she’ll be back before long,’ he said. ‘Although this is completely inappropriate behaviour from someone who’s been double promoted. Hope it hasn’t gone to her head.’
Two things struck me about Smithies’ reaction to the news. First, if he was having a fling with Isabelle, he hid it astoundingly well. And second, whether he was or not, he seemed blithely indifferent to her fate.
‘By the way,’ he said, as I was leaving. ‘You were right about the chicken. Been puking up half the weekend.’
‘What a shame,’ I replied.
10
Smithies’ confident prediction of police inactivity proved to be somewhat wide of
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