Boomerang Read Free Page A

mean. George.”
    A fire blazed up in Sammy’s eyes. “A ruddy Jew-baiter! And an artist—I’d never have believed it.”
    Margo helped herself to more cream. “Forget him. These strawberries are lovely, Sammy—eat up. I’m psychic, and I’ve a feeling about George. No good will come to him, I’m sure.”
    George Bullard stood outside the front porch at Porthcove Studios just before dinner and watched young Linda walk across the lawn towards him. He had been studying a flowering shrub and deciding in his mind how he would paint it.
    Linda Snow wore tight-fitting jeans and a teeshirt and her walk had a sensuous hip-swinging style. Duke didn’t know what he had there, Bullard thought; it took a mature man to appreciate this girl.
    “Hi, beautiful,” he said as she approached. “How about posing in the nude? You’d make a great model and this outdoor sketching isn’t really me.”
    She stared blankly at him. “Pardon?”
    “We’ll make up a kitty to pay you something. I’m sure all the men would chip in.”
    Linda tossed her blonde hair. “Get lost!”
    A hand gripped him from behind and swung him around. Bullard saw Duke Dickson, his face contorted in fury.
    “Keep your hands off my girl-friend, or I’ll kill you!”
    “You, and whose army?”
    Duke balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into Bullard’s stomach. As he doubled over in pain, Duke’s arm lifted to strike again. But before the blow could land, someone gripped his arm.
    “Cool it,” Keith Parry said.
    “Yeah, cool it,” Linda echoed. “I can look after myself.”
    “You know I don’t like you playing around with other blokes, Linda.” Duke allowed himself to relax, then shrugged. “Okay, but if George takes one more step out of line, I’ll flatten him.”
    Parry released Duke and helped Bullard upright. “You really should think before you open your mouth. George.”
    Duke stared thoughtfully at Parry as the tutor helped Bullard into the house.
    “That Mr. Keith now, he looks a bit of a poof, but he’s got a grip all right. Of course, he took me by surprise.”
    “Of course,” Linda said sarcastically. “Now can we drop this macho stuff?”
    Sammy Jacobi and Fletcher were watching, with quiet amusement, as Margo read the tarot cards on the writing table in the common room. She was telling Linda’s fortune.
    “I see trouble in your life. It will come quite soon—but it will pass, and I see unity with your beloved.”
    After dinner, Parry had suggested they relax for an evening. This, after all, was a holiday and not intended to be all work.
    The armchairs were deep and comfortable, there was a selection of light reading in the bookcase and a film showing on the television.
    George Bullard strolled in.
    “The gypsy’s warning,” he said contemptuously. “That old con game—I didn’t think anyone fell for that line any more. Crystal balls, seances and table-turning. Nothing but a bag of tricks—talk about getting money under false pretences.”
    “No money is involved,” Sammy said. “Linda asked Margo to read the cards for her.”
    “That’s right,” Linda said. “It’s only a game really. Everyone reads what the stars foretell in the newspapers, don’t they?”
    “I don’t,” Bullard sneered.
    “Perhaps you should,” Margo said quietly. “Perhaps it might change your attitude if you knew what was in store for you.”
    “Rubbish!” Bullard sniffed the air. “My God, woman, do you bathe in that cheap scent? Try soap and water.”
    “Excuse me, Linda.”
    Margo Nicholas leaned forward, brass bangles jangling, and seized Bullard’s wrist. She stared intently into his palm and spoke in a mystic tone.
    “I see...I see a deal of unpleasantness. First it moves out from you...a dark cloud obscuring your lifeline. Then it returns, like a boomerang.”
    Bullard jerked his hand away from her as if scalded. He scowled, and blustered, “A lot of rubbish.”
    He opened the hall door and paused in the