Read Online Walking with Ghosts by John Baker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Baker
Ads: Link
you saw between us this morning was passion. And it’s passion that you’re afraid of. Passion that you think might hurt her.’
’You think so? I didn’t think that.’
‘OK, maybe you weren’t aware of it, but that’s what sent you looking for a nervous breakdown. And you might be right. Passion is a powerful force. Marie might get mauled by it. And me. All of us. But if that happens, you won’t be able to stop it. Marie and me are thinking about each other all the time. We’ve been waiting years for this, and now it’s come. It’s like toothache. You can’t get away from it.’ Geordie was quiet for several minutes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said eventually. ‘It was a gut reaction. I’m glad for her. Glad for both of you. Me and Janet was like that at first.’ He laughed, ‘We still are sometimes.’
They entered a large estate in which the houses were of different sizes, but looked alike. The roads were designed with a gentle curve to them. Geordie stopped at the edge of a perfectly trimmed lawn, and he and J.D. walked along the path to the house.
The woman who opened the door was under forty. She had blond hair cut short, and wore a lumberjack checked shirt and baggy jeans. She smiled and raised her eyebrows in the most wholesome way imaginable.
‘I’m Geordie Black, and this is my associate, J.D. Pears. We have an appointment to see Ms Marsh.’
‘I’m Polly Marsh,’ she said. ‘Sorry, I think I was expecting someone a little older.’
‘I get a little older every day,’ Geordie told her. He was pleased with that. It came to him naturally, out of the air. And it was the kind of thing Sam would’ve said. A bit of spontaneous funny to put everyone at their ease.
They followed her through a small reception area into a long living room. She turned to face them, and waved in the direction of a plush-looking sofa. ‘Just one thing,’ she said. ‘It’s Miss, not Ms. I’m still in the market for a husband, and they tend to get scared off easily when there’s an element of confusion.’ The bright wholesome smile again. ‘Now, tea or coffee?’
She got them settled, brought up a long, low coffee table with a glass top. Served tea and coffee and biscuits, and hose long Italian breadsticks in a flower vase. On a separate plate lay a broken-open chocolate orange, with some of the sections stuck together.
Geordie felt it would be wrong to dive in with questions right away in front of such a spread. It would be more natural to sip the coffee and make small talk for a while, nibble a biscuit, wait at least until J.D. had finished up the chocolate orange. But Polly Marsh didn’t want to wait. ‘You’re private detectives?’ she said.
Geordie didn’t want to explain who J.D. was, so he nodded and let her assume whatever she wanted.
‘I did have a visit from the police,’ she said, ‘when Mr Blake was “helping them with their inquiries”, and they said they’d be back. But I never heard from them again. I thought it was all over.’
‘We’re working for the insurance company,’ Geordie told her. ‘You were Edward Blake’s secretary for how long?’
‘Fourteen months. He head-hunted me. I was his solicitor’s secretary before that. One day he asked me how much I was earning, and when I told him he offered me another thousand a year and a car.’
‘What were your duties?’
‘General Girl Friday. Everything was filtered through me. I arranged his appointments, got him off the hook when he couldn’t make them. Fixed his travel arrangements, hotel accommodation, made sure he was met at airports, railway stations.’ She sighed lightly. ‘I organized his life. His professional life.’
’Did you travel with him?’
’Sometimes. Not often. When he was away, I looked after e office. Maybe once every couple of months I would go with him. Once to Paris, and to Antwerp, several times to London. There was never anything improper about it. If re was any spare time we went our
’You think so? I didn’t think that.’
‘OK, maybe you weren’t aware of it, but that’s what sent you looking for a nervous breakdown. And you might be right. Passion is a powerful force. Marie might get mauled by it. And me. All of us. But if that happens, you won’t be able to stop it. Marie and me are thinking about each other all the time. We’ve been waiting years for this, and now it’s come. It’s like toothache. You can’t get away from it.’ Geordie was quiet for several minutes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said eventually. ‘It was a gut reaction. I’m glad for her. Glad for both of you. Me and Janet was like that at first.’ He laughed, ‘We still are sometimes.’
They entered a large estate in which the houses were of different sizes, but looked alike. The roads were designed with a gentle curve to them. Geordie stopped at the edge of a perfectly trimmed lawn, and he and J.D. walked along the path to the house.
The woman who opened the door was under forty. She had blond hair cut short, and wore a lumberjack checked shirt and baggy jeans. She smiled and raised her eyebrows in the most wholesome way imaginable.
‘I’m Geordie Black, and this is my associate, J.D. Pears. We have an appointment to see Ms Marsh.’
‘I’m Polly Marsh,’ she said. ‘Sorry, I think I was expecting someone a little older.’
‘I get a little older every day,’ Geordie told her. He was pleased with that. It came to him naturally, out of the air. And it was the kind of thing Sam would’ve said. A bit of spontaneous funny to put everyone at their ease.
They followed her through a small reception area into a long living room. She turned to face them, and waved in the direction of a plush-looking sofa. ‘Just one thing,’ she said. ‘It’s Miss, not Ms. I’m still in the market for a husband, and they tend to get scared off easily when there’s an element of confusion.’ The bright wholesome smile again. ‘Now, tea or coffee?’
She got them settled, brought up a long, low coffee table with a glass top. Served tea and coffee and biscuits, and hose long Italian breadsticks in a flower vase. On a separate plate lay a broken-open chocolate orange, with some of the sections stuck together.
Geordie felt it would be wrong to dive in with questions right away in front of such a spread. It would be more natural to sip the coffee and make small talk for a while, nibble a biscuit, wait at least until J.D. had finished up the chocolate orange. But Polly Marsh didn’t want to wait. ‘You’re private detectives?’ she said.
Geordie didn’t want to explain who J.D. was, so he nodded and let her assume whatever she wanted.
‘I did have a visit from the police,’ she said, ‘when Mr Blake was “helping them with their inquiries”, and they said they’d be back. But I never heard from them again. I thought it was all over.’
‘We’re working for the insurance company,’ Geordie told her. ‘You were Edward Blake’s secretary for how long?’
‘Fourteen months. He head-hunted me. I was his solicitor’s secretary before that. One day he asked me how much I was earning, and when I told him he offered me another thousand a year and a car.’
‘What were your duties?’
‘General Girl Friday. Everything was filtered through me. I arranged his appointments, got him off the hook when he couldn’t make them. Fixed his travel arrangements, hotel accommodation, made sure he was met at airports, railway stations.’ She sighed lightly. ‘I organized his life. His professional life.’
’Did you travel with him?’
’Sometimes. Not often. When he was away, I looked after e office. Maybe once every couple of months I would go with him. Once to Paris, and to Antwerp, several times to London. There was never anything improper about it. If re was any spare time we went our
Similar Books
