Find the Lady Read Free Page A

figure in powder blue pushing open the gate of Number 22. He looked the summery apparition up and down, smiled self-consciously and said, ‘Good afternoon.’
    ‘Good afternoon,’ the figure in blue replied with a coy smile and made a way up the path.
    The sunbather from next door waved across the fence.
    ‘Beautiful weather, Lady Cora,’ she called. ‘Wonderful afternoon.’
    ‘Fabulous,’ came the reply in the high-pitched delicate voice, and with a royal wave added, ‘We must enjoy it while we can.’
    It was sound advice.
    Someone was about to be murdered.
    D ETECTIVE I NSPECTOR A NGEL’S O FFICE , B ROMERSLEY P OLICE S TATION , S OUTH Y ORKSHIRE U.K. 1400 HOURS . M ONDAY , 16 J ULY 2007.
    There was a knock at the door.
    ‘Come in,’ Angel called.
    A young probationer policeman, Ahmed Ahaz entered. He pulled open the door, held the knob and, like a flunky at a palace, made the announcement. ‘Miss Smith, sir.’
    A pretty young woman came in. Angel smiled, quickly stood up and pointed at the chair next to his desk.
    ‘Please sit down, Miss Smith.’
    He nodded at PC Ahaz who went out and closed the door.
    The young woman looked round the little dowdy green-painted office, and quickly took stock: a cleared desk top with a pile of post in the centre of it; a swivel chair; a filing cabinet; stationery cupboard; a small table; a telephone and two ordinary wooden chairs. By the look on her face, she had perhaps expected more impressive surroundings for the celebrated police inspector.
    She sat down, put her small handbag on her knees and gave a little cough.
    Angel looked up from the desk and straight into her eyes.
    ‘Now then, you wanted to see me, Miss Smith?’
    ‘Yes. I asked to see you, Inspector Angel. I had read so much about you in the newspapers, I felt as if … as if, I knew you … ever so slightly. I mean I don’t know any policemen at all really. Never had reason even to call in at a police station. So I thought I would ask to see you by name. I hope that’s all right. You see, I am very worried.’
    ‘Of course. Of course. You want to report a crime?’
    Her face straightened.
    ‘Yes. Indeed I do,’ she said positively.
    He nodded.
    ‘It’s like this,’ she began then stopped.
    Angel peered at her and said: ‘Please continue. In your own time.’
    ‘It’s rather tedious, I am afraid. I don’t know quite where to start.’
    ‘Start wherever you want to.’
    ‘I’ll try to tell you in sequence, Inspector.’
    He nodded encouragingly.
    ‘Well, my father was the proprietor of Smith’s Glassworks. He was a widower, and when he died ten years ago, he left the business to my brother John and me. I was not the slightest bit interested in it. The business made fancy shaped bottles. Short batch runs for perfume companies and customers of that sort. I left the day-to-day running of the business entirely to my brother. I had a little capital of my own and I run a riding stables up in Tunistone. That keeps me busy enough. I received dividends on a quarterly basis from the business and that’s all I cared about glass bottles. Now, just about two years ago, my brother rang me up and said he had had an offer for the company from an American conglomerate and he asked me my feelings about selling up. I said I didn’t care much one way or the other. He told me how much was involved. It sounded most attractive so we agreed to sell to them. A few weeks later, the deal was completed and, after paying off all the creditors, the bank loan and the capital gains tax, we expected to net almost two million pounds. I would have received half of that. John said that he would put the cheque from the American company safely on deposit as the following day he was taking his wife and my two nieces on holiday to the island of Phuket for Christmas to celebrate the deal. I saw them off at the station, and, tragically, that was the last I saw of them.’
    Angel pursed his lips as he began to anticipate what was