Read Online Deception on His Mind by Elizabeth George - Free Book Online Page B

uneducated coloureds who no doubt didn't even take time to
bathe
before presenting themselves—”
    “Gran.” Theo's fair skin was flushing. “The Pakistanis bathe quite as much as we do. And even if they didn't, their hygiene's hardly the point, is it?”
    “Perhaps you'll tell me what the point is.”
    He came back to his seat, opposite her. His teacup rattled in its saucer in a manner that made her want to howl.
When
would he learn how to carry himself like a Shaw, for God's sake?
    “This man—his name was Haytham Querashi—”
    “I know that very well,” she snapped.
    He lifted an eyebrow. “Ah,” he said. He placed his teacup carefully on the table and kept his attention on it, rather than on his grandmother, as he continued. “Then you probably also know that he was due to marry Akram Malik's daughter next week. Evidently, the Asian community doesn't believe that the police are moving fast enough to get to the bottom of what happened to Querashi. They brought their grievance to the council meeting. They were especially hard … well, they were hard on Akram. He tried to control them. They walked all over him. He was fairly humiliated about the whole deal. I couldn't ask for another meeting after that. It wouldn't have been right.”
    Despite what the disruption had done to her own plans, Agatha found herself taking pleasure in this piece of information. In addition to the man's raising her ire by bullying his way into her special passion—redeveloping Balford—she hadn't forgiven Akram Malik for taking her place on the town council. He hadn't actually run against her, but he hadn't turned down the appointment when someone was needed to fill her place until a by-election could be called. And when that by-election had been held and she herself had been too ill to stand for the seat, Malik had done so, campaigning as earnestly as if he'd been after a seat in the House of Commons. She was delighted, therefore, at the thought of the man's embarrassment at the hands of his own community.
    She said, “That must have got right up old Akram's nose, having his precious Pakis take the mickey out of him in a public forum. How I wish I'd been there.” She saw Theo wince. Mr. Compassion. He always pretended to be such a bleeding heart. “Don't tell me you don't feel the same, young man. You're a Shaw at the end of the day and you know it. We have our ways and they have theirs, and the world would be a better place if all of us kept to our own.” She rapped her knuckles on the table to get his attention. “Just try to tell me you disagree. You had more than one run-in with coloured boys when you were in school.”
    “Gran …” What was that note in Theo's voice? Impatience? Ingranation? Mollification? Condescension? Agatha's eyes narrowed upon her grandson.
    “What?” she demanded.
    He didn't reply at once. He touched the rim of his teacup in a meditative gesture, looking deep in thought. “That's not all,” he said. “I stopped at the pier. After what went on at the meeting, I thought it would be a good idea to make sure the attractions were running smoothly. That's why I'm late, by the way.”
    “And?”
    “And it was good that I went. There was a dust-up among five blokes out on the pier, right outside the arcade.”
    “Well, I hope to God you sent them packing, whoever they were. If the pier gets the reputation as a spot for the local hooligans to aggravate tourists, we may as well lay redevelopment to rest.”
    “It wasn't hooligans,” Theo said. “It wasn't tourists either.”
    “Then who?” She was becoming agitated again. She could feel an ominous rush of blood in her ears. If her pressure was on the rise, there'd be hell to pay when she next saw the doctor. And no doubt another six months of enforced convalescence, which she didn't think that she could endure.
    “They were teenagers,” he said. “Just kids from the town. Asian and English. Two of them had knives.”
    “This is
just
what