Read Online The Stabbing in the Stables by Simon Brett - Free Book Online

very often.”
    This seemed a direct contradiction to what Sonia Dalrymple had said, but Jude didn’t question it.
    â€œAnd you must have known Walter Fleet quite well.”
    â€œNot that well. He was just an old guy who was around, that’s all.”
    Old? Early forties. Jude wondered how old Imogen thought she was. “But he and his wife ran the place. You must have had quite a bit to do with him and—”
    â€œI didn’t know him well,” the girl said firmly, and to emphasise the ending of the conversation, ran a few steps ahead. “We’re nearly there.”
    The River Road destination to which Imogen led the way was a substantial family house, probably with four or five bedrooms. Though Sonia Dalrymple had dismissed Alec Potton’s earning potential, and it was as nothing compared to her husband, he must have been doing pretty well to buy a property like that in Fethering. But the house was showing signs of neglect. The exterior paintwork was blistered and flaking, and the front garden had grown shaggy. Its lack of maintenance seemed all too straightforward a symbol for the dividing family within. The blank stare of the unlit windows with undrawn curtains was distinctly unwelcoming.
    â€œIt’s all right. You can leave me here,” said Imogen when they reached the garden gate.
    â€œNo, I’ll see you in, check there’s someone there.”
    â€œI am fourteen, you know. I am capable of being in the house on my own. In fact, I spend most of my time in the house on my own. It’s not a problem.”
    â€œDo you have any brothers and sisters?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, let’s just see if there’s anyone in.”
    â€œFor heaven’s sake, I can be left alone! You sound just like my mum, not letting me be on my own for a single minute. Either she’s got to be there, or she’s got to fix up for Dad to be there or…”
    Imogen let out one of those exasperated sighs that only teenage girls can do properly, and stomped off up the garden path, reaching for her house key. She opened the front door, turning to bar entrance to Jude. Her unwanted escort was being given a very definite message to leave.
    â€œSo, is there someone in?”
    â€œYes, of course there is. Da-ad!”
    But the only answer to her long call was an echo in the empty house. Imogen looked taken aback, then let out another louder wail, which again produced no response.
    â€œHe said he’d be here. He promised to be here.” But resignation quickly overcame disappointment. “Don’t worry. I’ll be all right. You can go.”
    â€œBut couldn’t you give your father a call on your mobile to—”
    â€œIf he’s not here, he’s doing something else,” said Imogen sharply. “Work probably. He’s on the road somewhere. I can’t disturb him when he’s working.”
    â€œBut surely he’s…”
    Jude’s words trailed away at the sound of a car drawing up behind her and Imogen’s eyes brightening with recognition.
    â€œHe’s here. You can go.” Even the pretence of politeness in her words had now slipped away.
    Jude turned to see a tall man emerging from a rather grubby BMW. “Sorry, Immy love, got delayed.”
    Alec Potton was in his early forties, louchely stylish in a shapeless corduroy suit. In spite of his receding hair, he was an attractive man, and the warmth of his handshake to Jude after she had been grudgingly introduced showed that he was well aware of his attractiveness. Over the years of being what could only be described as fanciable, she knew all too well the subtext of extra hand pressure and extended contact by which men expressed sexual interest. The instant thought came into her mind that perhaps Alec Potton’s relish for other women was the cause of the divorce currently in progress.
    â€œCan’t thank you enough for looking after