Read Online Murder on the Tor: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 3) by Frances Evesham - Free Book Online
Authors: Frances Evesham
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schoolboy on a scooter sped round the corner, almost under her wheels, and Libby slammed on the brakes. After that, she concentrated on the road, blocking thoughts of Max from her mind.
Squeezing the car into one of the last spaces at Bristol Harbourside, she walked across the bridge, a stiff little breeze blowing hair in her eyes. Max, smart in a suit and tie, waved from a table for two in the window of the restaurant. Had he dressed to impress Libby, or the professor? Libby smoothed a lock of hair behind an ear, fingered a gold chain that hung round her neck, and took a deep breath. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Only five minutes. I’m mixing business and pleasure. I had an appointment with a firm of auditors in Queen Square.” That explained the suit. “Pritchards is their client.”
Pritchards. Chesterton Wendlebury’s company; the one Trevor had dealings with. “Are they as shady as we suspected?”
A waitress brought plates of food. “I’ve ordered tapas, hope that’s all right?”
“Lovely.” Libby ran an eye over dishes of chorizo, tortilla and seafood. “Calamari? Terrific. Haven’t had squid for ages.” She piled it onto her plate.
“Thought you’d like it. Can’t bear the stuff, myself, so I’m sticking to roast peppers and ham.”
“Did the auditors tell you anything interesting about Pritchards, or are they bound to secrecy by client privilege?”
“I have ways of making companies talk.”
Libby spluttered. “Strong arm stuff? No, I don’t believe it.” Max was tall, trim and fit-looking, but no match for gym bunnies in their thirties.
“Much too old for that. My leverage is more in the nature of a financial threat, if you know what I mean. Taking a look at the firm’s tax situation, for example. Amazing how willing companies are to help, once I suggest that. You’d be surprised how many financial wizards neglect their own records.”
“I’d better keep the chocolate accounts straight, then.”
“Or bribe me with the product.” Max served garlicky shrimp to them both. “This is good, whatever it is, though we’d better not breathe too hard on the professor. Anyway, Pritchards have a pretty complex set-up. Off-shore accounts, a series of complicated financial instruments and a lot of buying and selling of shares among board members. Not illegal, unless it’s used to manipulate prices on the stock market.”
“And Chesterton Wendlebury’s been doing that?”
“He’s certainly an active board member.”
Libby hesitated, not sure she wanted to ask the next question. “What about Trevor? You said his name was on some documents you found. How was he involved with Pritchards?”
Max wiped sauce from his chin. “He dealt with their insurance, all above board and open for scrutiny, but I’m afraid he was in on some of the murkier deals.” Libby kept her eyes on her fork, moving squid from one side of the plate to the other. When she thought about Trevor and his criminal past, her stomach churned. What would she find out next? She laid her fork down, unable to eat any more.
Max changed the subject. “Mandy seems happy. Growing up, do you think?”
Libby forced her whirling thoughts back from Trevor to her lodger. “Steve’s influence, I think. They spend a lot of time together. There’s a gig tonight, with his band. I sometimes get the impression Steve’s not entirely committed to being a Goth, though, which is probably a good thing.”
“It’s tough, being a teenage boy, no matter how easy it looks.”
Libby glanced up. “That sounded as though it came from the heart.”
Max smiled, but his eyes were serious. “I wish I’d known you when we were young.” Thrown off balance, heart racing, Libby couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She waited, to see if he’d explain. Did he mean he cared about her? Was he asking for more than friendship?
Max said no more, but went on eating, avoiding her eye. Libby, suddenly tired of uncertainties, of
Squeezing the car into one of the last spaces at Bristol Harbourside, she walked across the bridge, a stiff little breeze blowing hair in her eyes. Max, smart in a suit and tie, waved from a table for two in the window of the restaurant. Had he dressed to impress Libby, or the professor? Libby smoothed a lock of hair behind an ear, fingered a gold chain that hung round her neck, and took a deep breath. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Only five minutes. I’m mixing business and pleasure. I had an appointment with a firm of auditors in Queen Square.” That explained the suit. “Pritchards is their client.”
Pritchards. Chesterton Wendlebury’s company; the one Trevor had dealings with. “Are they as shady as we suspected?”
A waitress brought plates of food. “I’ve ordered tapas, hope that’s all right?”
“Lovely.” Libby ran an eye over dishes of chorizo, tortilla and seafood. “Calamari? Terrific. Haven’t had squid for ages.” She piled it onto her plate.
“Thought you’d like it. Can’t bear the stuff, myself, so I’m sticking to roast peppers and ham.”
“Did the auditors tell you anything interesting about Pritchards, or are they bound to secrecy by client privilege?”
“I have ways of making companies talk.”
Libby spluttered. “Strong arm stuff? No, I don’t believe it.” Max was tall, trim and fit-looking, but no match for gym bunnies in their thirties.
“Much too old for that. My leverage is more in the nature of a financial threat, if you know what I mean. Taking a look at the firm’s tax situation, for example. Amazing how willing companies are to help, once I suggest that. You’d be surprised how many financial wizards neglect their own records.”
“I’d better keep the chocolate accounts straight, then.”
“Or bribe me with the product.” Max served garlicky shrimp to them both. “This is good, whatever it is, though we’d better not breathe too hard on the professor. Anyway, Pritchards have a pretty complex set-up. Off-shore accounts, a series of complicated financial instruments and a lot of buying and selling of shares among board members. Not illegal, unless it’s used to manipulate prices on the stock market.”
“And Chesterton Wendlebury’s been doing that?”
“He’s certainly an active board member.”
Libby hesitated, not sure she wanted to ask the next question. “What about Trevor? You said his name was on some documents you found. How was he involved with Pritchards?”
Max wiped sauce from his chin. “He dealt with their insurance, all above board and open for scrutiny, but I’m afraid he was in on some of the murkier deals.” Libby kept her eyes on her fork, moving squid from one side of the plate to the other. When she thought about Trevor and his criminal past, her stomach churned. What would she find out next? She laid her fork down, unable to eat any more.
Max changed the subject. “Mandy seems happy. Growing up, do you think?”
Libby forced her whirling thoughts back from Trevor to her lodger. “Steve’s influence, I think. They spend a lot of time together. There’s a gig tonight, with his band. I sometimes get the impression Steve’s not entirely committed to being a Goth, though, which is probably a good thing.”
“It’s tough, being a teenage boy, no matter how easy it looks.”
Libby glanced up. “That sounded as though it came from the heart.”
Max smiled, but his eyes were serious. “I wish I’d known you when we were young.” Thrown off balance, heart racing, Libby couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She waited, to see if he’d explain. Did he mean he cared about her? Was he asking for more than friendship?
Max said no more, but went on eating, avoiding her eye. Libby, suddenly tired of uncertainties, of
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