(1998) Denial

(1998) Denial Read Free

Book: (1998) Denial Read Free
Author: Peter James
Tags: Mystery
Ads: Link
his neck. Amanda Capstick smiled at him again from behind the window and gave him a thumbs-up.
    He grimaced back at her and shrugged, then sipped the last tepid half-inch of his coffee. The studio door opened, and the producer, Chris Beamish, six foot tall, bearded, eyes wary and birdlike, came in, nodding solemnly.
    ‘How was it?’ Michael asked the same question every week.
    And Beamish gave him the same reply each week, ‘Good, good programme, I think they liked it.’
    ‘I was off-key,’ Michael said. ‘I was toast.’
    ‘No, they liked it,’ Beamish repeated, speaking by somekind of proxy on behalf of the show’s alleged 382,000 listeners.
    ‘You’re very good,’ Amanda told Michael, a few minutes later, as they walked past the security guard in the deserted lobby. ‘You have a very comfortable way with the callers.’
    He smiled. ‘Thanks, but I wasn’t on the ball tonight.’
    ‘I’d like to use a segment of your show in my programme.’
    ‘Sure.’
    ‘We could try to do it live and get that spontaneity.’ She paused and then said, ‘Ever thought of having your own television show? Something like Anthony Clare’s
In The Psychiatrist’s Chair?

    ‘I’m not convinced that media psychiatry is the right thing for people,’ he said. ‘I’m having a lot of doubts about this. Ten minutes isn’t enough. Nor is half an hour. I’m beginning to think I might be doing more harm than good. Doing this without being able to see faces, body language, is difficult. I thought originally it might encourage people to see the benefits of psychiatry. Now I’m not sure.’
    They reached the doors. Michael smelt her perfume: it was subtle, a faint muskiness, and he liked it. In a moment she would be gone and he’d be heading home to another evening on his own, defrosting something from Marks and Spencer, then scanning the television guides or trying to get stuck into a book, or catching up on some paperwork, or –
    – writing the report the Coroner’s officer had requested.
    He wanted desperately to stop her from disappearing. But it had been so long since he had chatted up a woman that whatever apology for a technique he’d once had was now long gone. Also he had no idea whether she was single or married, and glanced surreptitiously down at her hands.
    She wore no rings. Her hands were surprisingly small and bony and the varnish on the nails was chipped, as if she was a grafter who didn’t give a toss about appearances, and he found this endearing. He didn’t like perfection. Too many of his patients were perfectionists. He liked to see a bit of slack in life.
    ‘Do you have time for a quick drink?’ he asked, surprising himself by how nonchalant he sounded.
    Their eyes met and held. She had beautiful eyes, cobalt blue, bright, intensely alive. She smiled, glanced down at her watch, then looked away evasively. ‘Actually, thanks, but I – I have to get to a meeting at eight.’
    ‘Sure,’ Michael said, masking his disappointment with a cheery smile, and wondering what kind of a good-looking hunk this meeting was with.
    He thought about her as he drove home, steering the Volvo in the slow crawl south over Putney Bridge and up the high street. He thought about her smile through the glass window of the control room. He thought about that look she had given him in the doorway as they were leaving. There had been some kind of attraction, definitely.
    She had turned down his offer of a drink.
    But hadn’t he detected some hint of reluctance in the way she’d turned it down?
    There would be other chances. They’d be meeting again. Or . . . hell, he could call her tomorrow and try his luck. Why not?
    Oh, yes, Dr Michael Tennent, and what exactly would she see in you? You’re a decade older than her. She’s a young, bright, hip girl with the world at her feet. You’re an old fart in a Volvo.
    You’re not even any good at your job any more. The proof of that is in this morning’s paper. You’d

Similar Books

McMansion

Justin Scott

I'm Glad I Did

Cynthia Weil

Deadly Call

Martha Bourke

Icy Betrayal

David Keith

The Apogee - Byzantium 02

John Julius Norwich

Bloodstream

Tess Gerritsen

Goodbye Soldier

Spike Milligan

Pohlstars

Frederik Pohl