Read Online High society by Ben Elton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ben Elton
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Humorous, Fiction - General, Mystery & Detective, Mystery, Mystery & Detective - General, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), Crime & mystery, General & Literary Fiction, Drug traffic, drug abuse, Criminal behavior, English Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Humorous stories - gsafd
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THE LEMAN HOUSEHOLD, DALSTON
A s Commander Leman got out of his car a figure emerged from the darkness. Leman sensed a second man behind him. He knew that it was possible that they had come to kill him. If they had, these would be his final thoughts. The faces of his wife and daughter sprang almost unbidden to the forefront of his mind. ‘Commander Leman?’
He knew the voice. ‘Detective Sergeant Archer?’ There was a pause. The shadowy figure had not expected to be so readily identified. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because I’ve listened to your voice on a number of occasions.’
‘Phone-tapping. Very naughty. Very inadmissable.’
‘Perhaps soon I shall have sufficient cause to apply for a warrant.’ The second figure spoke from behind him. ‘And perhaps soon your missus will have sufficient cause to put on black.’
Commander Leman did not turn round. ‘You may kill me if you wish. It isn’t a difficult thing to do. But know this. All that I’ve unearthed is contained within a file kept secretly with a colleague and addressed to the Chief Constable.’
‘If there was any proof in it you’d have already sent it.’
‘Certainly, that’s true. But if I were to be killed, then it seems likely that the Chief Constable would take a greater interest in my suspicions and the circumstantial evidence I’ve amassed. I’ve written a letter detailing those I think might want me dead. Your name is on it, DS Archer…And yours, DS Sharp.’ For the first time Leman turned round.
‘We ain’t thinking of killing you, Leman. Snitches and grasses like you ain’t worth the price of a bullet. But there’s another reason your wife might want to put on mourning. Same goes for you.’
‘Don’t your missus tell you about the phonecalls she gets? Calls concerning your daughter. Pretty little Anna. Sweet fifteen.’ Commander Leman tried with all his might to make his reply sound as convincing as any sentence he had ever uttered.
‘If any harm comes to any member of my family I shall kill you both.’
‘Oh no!’ Archer sneered. ‘I’m shittin’ myself. Nighty-night,
Commander Leman, and don’t forget: little Anna’s safety is in your hands.’
SAMANTHA’S FLAT, ISLINGTON
P eter Paget had never felt so wonderful in his entire life. Astonishingly, and without warning, even the ever-present feelings of guilt that lay heavily in his stomach had disappeared. He had not a care in the world. Everything was beautiful. He had also developed a deep fascination with the tactile properties of water.
‘I can’t believe that I’ve lived for forty-three years on this planet and I’ve never understood the texture of water before…I mean really felt it. Do you understand what I mean, Sammy?’
‘It’s beautiful.’
That is so perfect, Sammy, the perfect word for the perfect thing. Water is beautiful.’
Sammy’s feet rested on Peter Paget’s shoulders; his were under her arms. The bath was not really built for two and yet for them it was just right; it seemed to mould itself so naturally to their bodies that it might have been designed around them.
‘I love you, Sammy, you’re the most perfectly wonderful human being in existence. No, I really mean that. You are truly, deeply and completely wonderful.’
‘You are too, Peter. It’s kind of awe inspiring how beautiful you are, it’s like you’ve been reborn into perfection.’
Eventually they got out of the bath and dried each other by the light of many candles. The towels felt like cotton wool. The lino on which they stood was exquisite to their feet, firm and delightfully smooth. They towelled each other gently for what seemed like a lifetime, a lifetime spent in heaven.
‘We have all night, beautiful Sammy, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Sam-an-the-e-e-r-r.’ He pronounced the syllables separately and luxuriously, tasting them on his tongue, feeling their weight, their shape. Experiencing the loveliness of her name.
THE LEMAN HOUSEHOLD, DALSTON
A s Commander Leman got out of his car a figure emerged from the darkness. Leman sensed a second man behind him. He knew that it was possible that they had come to kill him. If they had, these would be his final thoughts. The faces of his wife and daughter sprang almost unbidden to the forefront of his mind. ‘Commander Leman?’
He knew the voice. ‘Detective Sergeant Archer?’ There was a pause. The shadowy figure had not expected to be so readily identified. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because I’ve listened to your voice on a number of occasions.’
‘Phone-tapping. Very naughty. Very inadmissable.’
‘Perhaps soon I shall have sufficient cause to apply for a warrant.’ The second figure spoke from behind him. ‘And perhaps soon your missus will have sufficient cause to put on black.’
Commander Leman did not turn round. ‘You may kill me if you wish. It isn’t a difficult thing to do. But know this. All that I’ve unearthed is contained within a file kept secretly with a colleague and addressed to the Chief Constable.’
‘If there was any proof in it you’d have already sent it.’
‘Certainly, that’s true. But if I were to be killed, then it seems likely that the Chief Constable would take a greater interest in my suspicions and the circumstantial evidence I’ve amassed. I’ve written a letter detailing those I think might want me dead. Your name is on it, DS Archer…And yours, DS Sharp.’ For the first time Leman turned round.
‘We ain’t thinking of killing you, Leman. Snitches and grasses like you ain’t worth the price of a bullet. But there’s another reason your wife might want to put on mourning. Same goes for you.’
‘Don’t your missus tell you about the phonecalls she gets? Calls concerning your daughter. Pretty little Anna. Sweet fifteen.’ Commander Leman tried with all his might to make his reply sound as convincing as any sentence he had ever uttered.
‘If any harm comes to any member of my family I shall kill you both.’
‘Oh no!’ Archer sneered. ‘I’m shittin’ myself. Nighty-night,
Commander Leman, and don’t forget: little Anna’s safety is in your hands.’
SAMANTHA’S FLAT, ISLINGTON
P eter Paget had never felt so wonderful in his entire life. Astonishingly, and without warning, even the ever-present feelings of guilt that lay heavily in his stomach had disappeared. He had not a care in the world. Everything was beautiful. He had also developed a deep fascination with the tactile properties of water.
‘I can’t believe that I’ve lived for forty-three years on this planet and I’ve never understood the texture of water before…I mean really felt it. Do you understand what I mean, Sammy?’
‘It’s beautiful.’
That is so perfect, Sammy, the perfect word for the perfect thing. Water is beautiful.’
Sammy’s feet rested on Peter Paget’s shoulders; his were under her arms. The bath was not really built for two and yet for them it was just right; it seemed to mould itself so naturally to their bodies that it might have been designed around them.
‘I love you, Sammy, you’re the most perfectly wonderful human being in existence. No, I really mean that. You are truly, deeply and completely wonderful.’
‘You are too, Peter. It’s kind of awe inspiring how beautiful you are, it’s like you’ve been reborn into perfection.’
Eventually they got out of the bath and dried each other by the light of many candles. The towels felt like cotton wool. The lino on which they stood was exquisite to their feet, firm and delightfully smooth. They towelled each other gently for what seemed like a lifetime, a lifetime spent in heaven.
‘We have all night, beautiful Sammy, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Sam-an-the-e-e-r-r.’ He pronounced the syllables separately and luxuriously, tasting them on his tongue, feeling their weight, their shape. Experiencing the loveliness of her name.
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