Read Online Shades of Murder by Ann Granger - Free Book Online Page A

looked her full in the face and she saw the spontaneous pleasure in his dark eyes turn to something very like triumph. ‘I’m Jan Oakley,’ he said simply, as if this must explain everything. He pronounced his name in Polish fashion, ‘Yan’.
    It wasn’t often Meredith found herself struck dumb but this was one of those rare occasions. She realised she had her mouth open and closed it. ‘Oh,’ she managed feebly.
    She still hadn’t really recovered her composure when they reached Bamford. Her companion retrieved his rucksack and walked briskly beside her along the platform. Meredith was five foot ten in height and took a perverse pleasure in noting that her companion was slightly shorter. But he had the musculature of a gymnast and strode out with a bounce in his step. To her annoyance, his attitude seemed to suggest they were now old friends. She knew she had to get rid of him sharpish, but at the same time, her mind was buzzing furiously. Was he expected at Fourways? Cautiously, she asked.
    ‘Oh yes, I’ve been in correspondence with my cousins. They know I’m coming today.’
    ‘Are you – is someone meeting you?’
    He frowned. ‘No, but I can I find a taxi, can’t I? Is the house very far away?’
    ‘It’s on the outskirts of town, near a crossroads. That’s how it got its name.’ They’d reached the exit at the front of the station. ‘It isn’t very far,’ Meredith told him. ‘The taxi fare shouldn’t be very much.’
    ‘It has been very nice to meet you,’ he said, very politely, and held out a hand. Unthinkingly, Meredith put out her own hand to shake his,but he seized her fingers and raised them gallantly to his lips, accompanying this with a formal bow. ‘We shall meet again, I hope?’
    Not if I can avoid it, thought Meredith, making for her car in the busy car park. However, as things turned out, she hadn’t seen the last of him that evening. As she drove slowly along the station approach, she saw Jan Oakley making a lonely figure, his rucksack at his feet, by the deserted taxi rank. She slowed.
    He had recognised her and came towards the car, his expression hopeful. ‘All the taxis have been taken. I have to wait perhaps twenty minutes until one comes back.’
    ‘I’ll run you out there,’ said Meredith resignedly. ‘Put your pack on the back seat.’
    He tossed it in immediately and slid into the passenger seat beside her. ‘This is very kind of you,’ he said, it seemed to her complacently.
    Meredith made no reply to this, but concentrated on weaving her way out of the station car park through the other cars all driven by impatient commuters, anxious to be home.
    As they drove through town, Jan remarked, ‘It looks a nice place. Why did you say it wasn’t interesting?’
    ‘Because I live here, I suppose. I mean, yes, it’s all right. Are you thinking of staying long?’ Meredith tried to suppress the tone in her voice which said, ‘I hope not!’
    ‘It depends,’ he said vaguely. ‘Perhaps two weeks, or three?’ He was slouched in the seat, his eyes fixed on the windscreen, his hands resting on his knees. A small gold crucifix had escaped from beneath the T-shirt.
    ‘What sort of work do you do in Poland?’ she asked, probing for more information about him. So far, he seemed to be making all the running. She felt as if she’d been caught off-balance and didn’t like it. That kiss-hand business, for instance – she’d never liked that. But if he had a regular job, he would have to get back to it eventually. He couldn’t prolong his stay indefinitely.
    He raised his hands and spread them out, palms facing. The crucifix wasn’t the only jewellery he wore. His wristwatch looked expensive and she wondered if it were a fake – and just how much of a fake its owner was. ‘I look after horses,’ he said.
    ‘Horses?’ She hadn’t expected that.
    ‘Yes, thoroughbred horses – on a stud farm. We breed fine horses in Poland. They’re a valuable export for our