Read Online Murder by Sarah Pinborough - Free Book Online

for your dinner with my father and Thomas.’ She said Bond’s name as if it was armour. Was that it? Was he her protection against being hurt again?
    ‘I’m so sad not to have seen so much of him of late – although it has been very kind of you to keep me company – but I hope this dinner means that he will soon be able to find more time for me – and for James.’
    ‘I’m sure he will,’ he said dryly. ‘I know he’s very fond of you.’
    She couldn’t meet his eyes, but her smile was wide, another new smile from a woman with a thousand of them. He thought perhaps this one tried too hard.
    ‘I’m looking forward to seeing him myself,’ he said, reaching for his hat and returning her smile. ‘He’s an interesting fellow.’
    His words weren’t a lie; he was very much looking forward to seeing Thomas Bond again. He hoped that the surgeon had found time in his busy schedule to look through James Harrington’s letters. Although he was different in many ways to his late father, they shared a dogged determination, and the deeper in love with Juliana he fell – and although just the sound of her laughter could make him hard, he knew that this was something more than lust – the more he became curious about the torments Harrington had suffered at the end of his life. He wanted to lay him to rest. He wanted to allay his own guilt. He wanted them all to be able to move on.
    *
    It was a strange dinner. Charles Hebbert was in a fine mood and ordered far too much wine that they all made a valiant effort to consume, although Edward noticed that Bond wasn’t matching them glass for glass; he was sure that the doctor often raised his glass to his lips but didn’t swallow. It was entirely possible that he could not afford to start the next day with a hangover, or perhaps he didn’t have the head for wine that Kane himself had cultivated over the years, but by the time they had lit their cigars and relaxed with brandy, he was certain that Thomas Bond was not in the same convivial frame of mind as the rest of the party.
    It hadn’t been noticeable at first. The conversation had flowed as they discussed Kane’s British business dealings, and then, satisfying Kane’s curiosity, the doctor had shared details about the death of the woman on the train that he had been investigating – perhaps more information than he should, but then, he was among friends – or maybe he had been speaking just to fill the space between them? He certainly had not mentioned Harrington’s letters, nor dropped any hints about their contents. Kane was itching to have a moment alone with him to ask, but thus far, however, that chance had not arisen.
    Charles Hebbert waved away the conversation of Elizabeth Camp’s death, declaring that too much time had been spent digging into corpses and instead he started sharing anecdotes of Juliana and little James in the way that fond grandfathers – though not something Kane had ever experienced for himself – were wont to do.
    ‘I cannot believe we haven’t dined here before,’ Bond said as they leaned back in their fireside seats. ‘In all the years of our friendship I have never been to your club. Fancy that.’
    ‘It is very remiss of me, that is for certain. But’ – and Charlessmiled, his eyes twinkling merrily – ‘you have often dined in my home and with my family, and surely that is preferable.’
    ‘Of course.’ Bond sipped his drink. ‘You must be happy that you had so many dinners here with young Harrington before his sad demise – some time away from your wives to just talk business …’
    From behind a haze of cigar smoke, Kane watched Bond carefully. His head buzzed slightly with the alcohol but his misspent youth had served him well in that regard and he was far from intoxicated. Was Bond trying to discover something about Harrington? He scanned his recollection of the letters for any relevance but couldn’t recall anything useful. Most of what was burned in his mind