Read Online White Lilies by RC Bridgestock - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: RC Bridgestock
Tags: UK
Ads: Link
moment or two. Unblinking, he turned and walked off to his car. She stood still and ran her dried blood-coated fingers through her hair in exasperation. ‘What a bloody mess’, she whispered.
‘I don‘t understand,’ she shouted after him. ‘He says he only did what your mum wanted him to do so she could fund your lifestyle.’
He stopped in his tracks and turned. ‘What?’ he asked walking back towards her. ‘What did you say? I didn’t need her money,’ he yelled, through gritted teeth. Taylor pulled herself up to stand as tall as she could.
‘He says she took the equity out of her home for you.’
‘Where’s the money then? I certainly haven’t seen it,’ he said. ‘And that pariah hasn’t seen the last of me either,’ he growled.
‘Look, I’m the detective, not you. I’ll get to the bottom of this. You stay away from him. Do you hear?’ she called after Donald Harvey as he got into his car.
He slammed the car door shut. He drove towards her and, pulling alongside her, he opened his window.
‘I need you to sign some authorities so that I can check into your mum’s bank accounts,’ she said.
You know where I am,’ he replied. ‘And tell Mr Stevenson if you see him he’d better keep looking over his shoulder because one day I’ll catch up with him.’
As she saw Donald Harvey’s car vanish through the village she could feel goosebumps rise on her arms and she shivered. ‘Who was she to believe?’ she thought as she stepped from the shade of the trees that lined the path to the church and into the warmth of the sun. She looked at her watch, there was no time to worry about that now, she needed to head for the mortuary to see what secrets Mildred Sykes post-mortem would reveal about her death. First though she must buy some ‘practical’ shoes, as Dylan would have said, on her way and drop her jacket off at the cleaners – her skirt and top would just have to do for the mortuary.
Chapter 11
‘What a day,’ said Taylor as she ran across the car park to the mortuary. It was obvious to her that the tarmac had just been laid and in the midday heat she could feel the heels of her new shoes sinking in. She dragged her brush through her hair briefly, glanced at herself in her hand mirror and ran a covering of gloss around her lips.
There was no time to fret further about her appearance she thought, kicking the door wide open; she’d have to do. She zipped up her bag, put it under her arm, tossed her hair over her shoulder and smoothed her skirt down with sweaty palms, as she stopped for a moment at the top of the steps.
Taylor took a deep breath before she entered the mortuary’s office. This was the moment she had been dreading since she had seen the body of Mildred Sykes laying dead on the floor of her insect ridden bedroom. Watching some pathologist butcher any body was not her idea of fun, never mind a decomposed one. However, like Dylan said it was a necessary process she had to witness for the good of the investigation. She just hoped the pathologist wasn’t Professor Bernard Stow, who thought he was a comedian. She opened the door and walked in. Professor Stow stood in the adjoining room. Her heart sank and she groaned.
‘Good timing Taylor, do you want coffee or tea?’ asked Dylan who was stood at the vending machine, waiting for his cup to be filled.
‘Tea, strong and sweet please, preferably with a shot of brandy,’ she replied sitting down with a thud on the only seat available in the mortuary attendant's office, which just happened to be the most uncomfortable old wooden ladder-backed chair with a flat piece of red material posing as a cushion.
‘You remember Jasmine from SOCO who was at the scene don’t you?’ Dylan said ignoring her manner. Taylor nodded at the petite, pretty, dark haired, composed-looking young woman, who smiled at her from across the room as she tucked into a large bacon bap.
‘I think you and I will stay in the police
‘I don‘t understand,’ she shouted after him. ‘He says he only did what your mum wanted him to do so she could fund your lifestyle.’
He stopped in his tracks and turned. ‘What?’ he asked walking back towards her. ‘What did you say? I didn’t need her money,’ he yelled, through gritted teeth. Taylor pulled herself up to stand as tall as she could.
‘He says she took the equity out of her home for you.’
‘Where’s the money then? I certainly haven’t seen it,’ he said. ‘And that pariah hasn’t seen the last of me either,’ he growled.
‘Look, I’m the detective, not you. I’ll get to the bottom of this. You stay away from him. Do you hear?’ she called after Donald Harvey as he got into his car.
He slammed the car door shut. He drove towards her and, pulling alongside her, he opened his window.
‘I need you to sign some authorities so that I can check into your mum’s bank accounts,’ she said.
You know where I am,’ he replied. ‘And tell Mr Stevenson if you see him he’d better keep looking over his shoulder because one day I’ll catch up with him.’
As she saw Donald Harvey’s car vanish through the village she could feel goosebumps rise on her arms and she shivered. ‘Who was she to believe?’ she thought as she stepped from the shade of the trees that lined the path to the church and into the warmth of the sun. She looked at her watch, there was no time to worry about that now, she needed to head for the mortuary to see what secrets Mildred Sykes post-mortem would reveal about her death. First though she must buy some ‘practical’ shoes, as Dylan would have said, on her way and drop her jacket off at the cleaners – her skirt and top would just have to do for the mortuary.
Chapter 11
‘What a day,’ said Taylor as she ran across the car park to the mortuary. It was obvious to her that the tarmac had just been laid and in the midday heat she could feel the heels of her new shoes sinking in. She dragged her brush through her hair briefly, glanced at herself in her hand mirror and ran a covering of gloss around her lips.
There was no time to fret further about her appearance she thought, kicking the door wide open; she’d have to do. She zipped up her bag, put it under her arm, tossed her hair over her shoulder and smoothed her skirt down with sweaty palms, as she stopped for a moment at the top of the steps.
Taylor took a deep breath before she entered the mortuary’s office. This was the moment she had been dreading since she had seen the body of Mildred Sykes laying dead on the floor of her insect ridden bedroom. Watching some pathologist butcher any body was not her idea of fun, never mind a decomposed one. However, like Dylan said it was a necessary process she had to witness for the good of the investigation. She just hoped the pathologist wasn’t Professor Bernard Stow, who thought he was a comedian. She opened the door and walked in. Professor Stow stood in the adjoining room. Her heart sank and she groaned.
‘Good timing Taylor, do you want coffee or tea?’ asked Dylan who was stood at the vending machine, waiting for his cup to be filled.
‘Tea, strong and sweet please, preferably with a shot of brandy,’ she replied sitting down with a thud on the only seat available in the mortuary attendant's office, which just happened to be the most uncomfortable old wooden ladder-backed chair with a flat piece of red material posing as a cushion.
‘You remember Jasmine from SOCO who was at the scene don’t you?’ Dylan said ignoring her manner. Taylor nodded at the petite, pretty, dark haired, composed-looking young woman, who smiled at her from across the room as she tucked into a large bacon bap.
‘I think you and I will stay in the police
Similar Books
