Read Online Murder... Now and Then by Jill McGown - Free Book Online Page B

Charles’s head, at the soft dark brown hair that had curled down over his collar, but which was shorter this morning than it had been since she had met him.
    He turned. His face was pale, his eyes distinctly red-rimmed and dark-circled. As she got closer, she could see the perspiration darkening the hair behind his ears. She saw the fabled Max Scott for the first time; she had heard about him as long as she had known Charles. He was attractive, and clearly didn’t have a hangover, as he gave her an amused glance. He was hanging on to Charles for dear life. Poor Charles. They must have got him drunk last night; he must feel like death. She could imagine him dragging himself to the barber so as not to offend her father with the length of his hair, climbing into his unfamiliar hired clothes, with an even less familiar hangover; now he was standing there, probably praying that he wouldn’t faint.
    He could faint if he liked. He could fall asleep if he liked. The sheer effort of will that it must have taken for him to be here was what brought a loving tear to her eye, and he could be sick all over her cream bridal gown for all she cared. She wouldn’t mind.
    She loved him.
    â€˜I’m a married man with two children, and I’m falling in love with you. Is this going to be a problem?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Judy firmly, to her half-pint of lager.
    The West End pub was warm, with a smattering of conversation and quiet background music as it waited for the Saturday lunchtime crowd to arrive. Lloyd’s foot had rested against hers under the table; now, he drew it away.
    â€˜Why did you agree to come for a drink with me, then?’ he asked.
    â€˜Because,’ Judy solemnly told her lager, ‘I can’t pretend that nothing’s happening between us. I wanted to see you.’
    â€˜You’d find that easier if you looked at me,’ he said, his voice gentle.
    She loved his voice. Slowly, she raised her eyes from the glass to his face; the Celtic colouring, the dark wavy hair that fell untidily over his brow, the blue eyes looking directly back info hers.
    â€˜That’s better,’ he said, smiling.
    She didn’t smile back. She didn’t feel like smiling. So many of them were crass and stupid; so many of them were anti-women, and the odd one, God help her, was like Dave, the one who carried out routine indecent assaults on prostitutes, and had got away with it. Judy hadn’t seen the incident; she had put two and two together, but she hadn’t witnessed it, and she could only report what she had seen and heard. They only asked her about Annabel; she had answered them, and hadn’t volunteered any other information. Even sergeants were supposed to turn a blind eye to anything short of full-scale corruption; one PC shopping another was unthinkable. Sometimes she hated the whole police force, from the commissioner down. Because they had all taken Bannister’s word against Annabel’s.
    Lloyd wasn’t like any of them. But if she wasn’t careful, she’d be like them soon. Bannister had interpreted her silence as a personal favour. She had had a long chat with Annabel, in the hope of persuading her to give up life on the streets; it hadn’t been successful.
    The pub began to fill up, and people sat down at the next table, noisily organizing who was having what.
    â€˜Do you want that drink?’ Lloyd asked.
    She shrugged.
    â€˜Then let’s go somewhere else.’
    â€˜Where?’
    Lloyd stood up, and bent towards her. ‘I don’t care,’ he whispered. ‘I just don’t want to carry on this conversation in a pub.’
    She followed him out into the diamond-hard air, and they walked through the streets, not saying anything at all. Buses shuddered, Big Ben chimed, taxi engines chattered as they waited at the lights. The smell of a dozen different national dishes wafted out of the restaurants as they passed.
    â€˜No