Read Online THE PERFECT KILL by A. J. Quinnell - Free Book Online Page B

after the boy had gone down the hill, and they were sitting under the trellis, that she spoke.
    “You were right,” she said, “about two things. This house will be a refuge for six months. I love it. Your wife had wonderful taste. In a strange way I feel safe here. I don’t care what people on the island think about me. They can think what they like.”
    She was drinking a gin and tonic and he had a glass of lager in front of him.
    “And you’re right about Michael…he certainly won’t arouse any maternal instincts in me…or for that matter any other woman.” She smiled, but it was a sad smile, “He’s about as cold as you are.”
    Creasy sipped his drink and said nothing. She went on: “Is it necessary that I sleep in that huge bed with you?”
    Creasy nodded, “If you don’t, the woman who cleans will know. She’ll look for hairs on the pillow, she’ll note how your clothes are arranged in the room…She’ll have an instinct about it. If she knows, everybody will know. After the panel approves the adoption and after a few weeks have passed you can sleep in another bedroom.”
    He took a sip and then went on. “As I told you before, you need have no worries…I’m many things, but I’m not a rapist.”
    She had to ask the question. “Don’t you find me attractive?”
    He shrugged and said, “I find you a good actress. By the way, can you cook?”
    She lifted her head and laughed out loud but it was not an amusing sound.
    “Yes, Creasy, I can cook. I’m told I cook well but I suppose that depends on who’s eating it. What are your favourite things?”
    “I eat simply.” He gestured at a large stone barbecue, set into the garden wall. “I like steaks and chops…grilled things. I also like roasts…especially beef. I pointed out the butcher shop in the village. Tell him, if he doesn’t give you the best beef on the island I’ll go down there and cut his goolies off and barbecue them.”
    “I guess he knows that already.”
    On the Sunday, Creasy went as usual to the Schembri farmhouse to have lunch with Paul and Laura and Joey. He had entered the house with an unusual feeling of trepidation. The Schembris held a special place for him. It was not that they were Nadia’s family. It was not that they had twice nursed him back to health. He held them in total respect.
    They spoke their minds, especially Laura, and he liked their minds. He knew that by bringing a wife back within five months, he would have hurt them deeply. Knew that their friends would have expressed sympathy to them. They were strong people and would not have liked to have answered to sympathy. But it seemed as though nothing had changed. They talked about the early tomato crop and the policies of the new government towards agriculture. No mention was made of his new wife or the pending adoption. It was as though nothing had happened.
    After the late lunch, he sat on the patio with Paul and Joey. He looked on the young man as more of a son than a brother-in-law. He teased him gently about his girlfriend, whom he had been seeing for almost a year. In traditional Gozitan society, a boy will see a girl for many months. If he brings her home or goes to her home it becomes a very serious matter. Many months later they will become engaged and that is an extremely serious matter.
    Engagements in Gozo are not broken. They last at least a year and then comes the monumental wedding feast.
    “How’s Maria?” Creasy asked.
    The young man shrugged. “She’s fine.”
    “I saw her parents yesterday, in Rabat…I had a drink with her dad…good people…good family.”
    Joey shrugged again, saying nothing.
    “They have a damn fine house. You’ve seen the house, Joey?”
    “Of course.”
    “You’ve been inside?”
    Joey squirmed a little on his chair.
    “No.”
    Paul was smiling slightly. Creasy poured more wine into his glass and into Joey’s and said reflectively: “Damn fine house…good-looking girl too. I saw her on Friday in