Read Online The Other Woman by Jill McGown - Free Book Online Page B

But then he would find himself walking into its depths again. He drew out a cigarette, and put it between his lips, then automatically searched his pockets for non-existent matches. He swore, and pushed the useless comforter into his pocket.
    He had gone up to her room with no great hopes; if anything, he had been depressed, having just given her the printable chapters of his less than successful life story. But his mumbled, would-be jokey fears that his lack of female companionship for the last few years might have blunted his technique – his declared celibacy was stretching a point, but his recent encounters had required no technique – and that his abused body might not have the attraction it had once had, had been allayed by her frankness about the whole thing, and had vanished altogether at the first electric touch of her skin on his.
    He turned into the football ground, almost groping his way towards the railings, looking for the gap.
    He had never met anyone like Melissa, far less gone to bed with her. He wouldn’t have, not in the old days, because she wasn’t beautiful; her features were too sharp, her face too long, her hair too short, her breasts too small, her body too angular. But the combination of intelligence and unashamed sensuality had knocked him sideways, and he was a happy man.
    Life, he thought, could hold no more surprises, not after Melissa. Until his foot hit something soft and yielding, and he looked down.
    Life had one more surprise up her sleeve.

Chapter Four
    He had phoned Judy eventually, just to make sure she had got home all right, and to say he was sorry. Lloyd always said he was sorry. He always was sorry. She had been monosyllabic, which had annoyed him all over again; he had given vent to his feelings, and she had hung up on him. He wanted to ring her again, ask her forgiveness, get her to say more than yes and no. But it was after midnight, and she was probably in bed. She hated having her sleep interrupted. But then she probably wasn’t asleep – not when they were still at loggerheads.
    A little voice told him that that was whistling in the dark; she almost certainly was asleep. Then she had no right to be, not while he was here worrying about everything. Serve her right if he woke her up.
    The phone rang, and he smiled broadly. She did feel like he did, he thought, as he picked it up. ‘Hello,’ he said, his voice contrite.
    â€˜Sir? Finch here, sir. We’ve got an as yet unidentified body in the car park of the Byford Road sports and leisure centre. We’ve got her bag, but there’s no ID. It looks like she’s been strangled. The pathologist is on his way, and the police surgeon’s already here. The inspector said I should call you,’ he added, just to cover himself.
    Lloyd’s eyes closed briefly. ‘Description of the victim?’ he said.
    â€˜Female – fair hair, about five feet six, apparently aged between twenty and thirty. She was found by someone taking a short cut home.’
    â€˜Did he trample all over any evidence that might have been, there?’ asked Lloyd testily.
    â€˜Probably, sir. He practically fell over her. You’ll see when you get here – it’s pitch dark. Someone’s taken a preliminary statement, but I haven’t been able to question him yet.’
    Lloyd sighed loudly. ‘Thank you, Tom. I’ll be there in about—’
    â€˜There’s something else, sir. Mrs Whitworth – the solicitor’s wife? Didn’t come home from work. He rang the station a while back to check on accidents.’
    Lloyd’s instantly suspicious mind logged that, as had Finch’s. ‘Have you got a description of her?’ he asked.
    â€˜No. He wasn’t actually reporting her missing, apparently. It was a more or less informal call to Jack Woodford. We’re getting her description, but there’s no sign of her car at the ground.’
    â€˜Right.