Read Online Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz - Free Book Online

And don’t forget, you’ve got a client arriving here at half past twelve.’
    ‘A client?’
    ‘Yes.’ Fraser sifted through the letters he was holding. ‘Her name is Joy Sanderling. She rang yesterday.’
    ‘I do not recall speaking to a Joy Sanderling.’
    ‘You didn’t speak to her. I did. She was calling from Bath or somewhere. She sounded in a bit of a bad way.’
    ‘Why did you not ask me?’
    ‘Should I have?’ Fraser’s face fell. ‘I’m terribly sorry. We haven’t got anything on at the moment and I thought you’d appreciate a new case.’
    Pünd sighed. He always looked a little pained and put upon – it was part of his general demeanour – but on this occasion, the timing could not have been worse. Even so, he did not raise his voice. As always, he was reasonable. ‘I’m sorry, James,’ he said. ‘I cannot see her right now.’
    ‘But she’s already on her way.’
    ‘Then you’ll have to tell her that she has wasted her time.’
    Pünd walked past his secretary and into his private rooms. He closed the door behind him.

2
    ‘You said he would see me.’
    ‘I know. I’m awfully sorry. But he’s too busy today.’
    ‘But I took a day off work. I came on the train all the way from Bath. You can’t treat people this way.’
    ‘You’re absolutely right. But it wasn’t Mr Pünd’s fault. I didn’t look at his diary. If you like, I can pay back your train fare out of petty cash.’
    ‘It’s not just the train fare. It’s my whole life. I have to see him. I don’t know anyone else who can help.’
    Pünd heard the voices from behind the double door that led into his sitting room. He was resting in an armchair, smoking the Sobranie cigarette – black with a gold tip – that he favoured. He had been thinking about his book, the work of a lifetime, already four hundred pages long and nowhere near complete. It had a title: The Landscape of Criminal Investigation . Fraser had typed up the most recent chapter and he drew it towards him. Chapter Twenty-six: Interrogation and Interpretation . He could not read it now. Pünd had thought it would take another year to complete the book. He no longer had that year.
    The girl had a nice voice. She was young. He could also tell, even on the other side of a wooden barrier, that she was on the edge of tears. Pünd thought briefly about his illness. Intracranial neoplasm. The doctor had given him three months. Was he really going to spend that time sitting on his own like this, thinking about all the things he couldn’t do? Annoyed with himself, he neatly ground out the cigarette, got up and opened the door.
    Joy Sanderling was standing in the corridor, talking to Fraser. She was a small girl, petite in every sense, with fair hair framing a very pretty face and childlike blue eyes. She had dressed smartly to come and see him. The pale raincoat with the sash tying it at the waist was unnecessary in this weather but it looked good on her and he suspected that she had chosen it because it made her seem businesslike. She looked past Fraser and saw him. ‘Mr Pünd?’
    ‘Yes.’ He nodded slowly.
    ‘I’m sorry to disturb you. I know how busy you are. But – please – if you could just give me five minutes of your time? It would mean so much.’
    Five minutes. Although she could not know it, it meant so much to both of them.
    ‘Very well,’ he said. Behind her, James Fraser looked annoyed, as if he had somehow let the side down. But Pünd had made up his mind the moment he had heard her voice. She had sounded so lost. There had been enough sadness today.
    He took her into the office, which was comfortable if a little austere. There was a desk and three chairs, an antique mirror, engravings in gold frames, all in the Biedermeier style of nineteenth-century Vienna. Fraser followed them in and took his place at the side of the room, sitting with his legs crossed and a notepad balanced on his knee. He didn’t really have to write anything down.