A Man Without Mercy Read Free

red, the girl looked sad and cold. Like this whole room.
    It occurred to Jack that possibly dear old Daryl had stripped the room of some things when he had left, which could account for its ultra-bare look. He wasn’t sure how he knew Daryl had been living here with Vivienne, but he was sure. She must have said something at some stage. Or maybe Daryl had, at that Christmas party. Yes, that was it: he’d mentioned he was moving in with her in the New Year. Whatever; maybe there had been more furniture in this room before he’d left and more pictures on the walls, plus the odd photo or two. The TV was still there, Jack noted, mounted on the wall opposite the sofa. But one would have expected a piece of furniture underneath it—a sideboard of some kind. There was room for it.
    Marion stopped briefly to deposit the basket of carnations on the coffee table before leading him on into the kitchen which, though smallish, was brilliantly designed to incorporate every mod con and still leave enough space for a table and four chairs. Obviously, it had been remodelled recently, since the bench tops and the table top were made in the kind of stone which had only become popular during the last few years. White, of course; white was the colour for kitchens these days. That and stainless-steel appliances. Vivienne always insisted on that combination in kitchens she designed for him. But she usually introduced a bit of colour in the splashbacks as well as other decorative touches: a bowl of fruit here and there. A vase of flowers. And, yes, something colourful on the walls.
    There was nothing like that here in Vivienne’s place, however. If it was hers? Jack suddenly wondered. Possibly this was a rental. He hadn’t thought of that. Only one way to find out, he supposed.
    ‘Does Vivienne own this place?’ he asked as he pulled out one of the white leather-backed chairs which surrounded the table.
    Marion glanced over her shoulder from where she was making the tea. ‘Sure does. Bought it when she inherited some money a while back. Had it refurbished from top to bottom last year. Not quite to my taste, but we all like different things, don’t we? Vivienne’s one of those women who can’t bear clutter.’
    ‘I can see that,’ Jack remarked.
    ‘Would you like a biscuit or two with your tea?’ Marion asked.
    ‘Please,’ Jack replied. It was nearly one o’clock and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
    ‘How do you have your tea?’
    ‘Black, with no sugar.’
    Marion sighed a somewhat exasperated sigh as she carried Jack’s mug of tea, plus a plate of cream biscuits, over to the table. ‘Lord knows what Vivienne’s doing in that bathroom. She’s been in there for ages.’
    Their eyes met, Jack’s chest tightening when sudden alarm filled Marion’s face.
    ‘Perhaps you should knock on the door and let her know I’m here,’ he suggested.
    ‘Yes. Yes, I think I’ll do that,’ Marion said, and hurried off.
    Jack listened to her footsteps on the polished floorboards, then to her knocking on a door, along with her anxious-sounding voice. ‘Vivienne, are you nearly finished in there? I have to go to work soon and you have a visitor—Jack Stone. He wants to speak to you. Vivienne, can you hear me?’
    When Jack heard even louder knocking and obviously still no answer from Vivienne, he jumped to his feet and raced down to where Marion was standing at the first door past the living room.
    ‘She won’t answer me, Jack,’ the woman said frantically. ‘And the door’s locked. You don’t think she’s done anything silly, do you?’
    Jack wasn’t sure of anything, so he banged on the door himself.
    ‘Vivienne,’ he called out loudly at the same time. ‘It’s Jack. Jack Stone. Will you open the door, please?’
    Not a word in reply.
    ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered as he examined the bathroom door which was solid wood, as opposed to chipboard, but also ancient and hopefully the victim of termites over the years. Telling