The House on Everley Street (Death Herself Book 2) Read Free Page A

I've been waiting for it to come onto the market and there's no way I'm going to miss the opportunity. I usually bow to your advice, but this time I can't wait. Buy the damn house.”
    Reginald sighed on the other end of the line. “You're the client, your wish is my command. If you want to throw a quarter of a million on a podgy little house that's barely worth half that, I can't stop you.”
    “No,” John said firmly, “you can't. Sorry, I don't mean to be harsh, just...” He paused, feeling as if the whole world had suddenly shifted slightly on its axis, as if some long-forgotten thought was stirring in the back of his mind. “Let me know when the deal's done.”
    “Will do, boss. Over and out.”
    “Wait,” he added, “Reginald... Do you happen to know why the current owners are selling?”
    “I do not.”
    He paused. “Try to find out. Don't make a thing of it, but try to bring it up in conversation.”
    “Just to satisfy your curiosity?”
    “Just to satisfy my curiosity.”
    “And you're going to tell me what this is all about one day? What does this house mean to you, anyway?”
    John paused again, watching as a light crossed the horizon. Plane? Shooting star? UFO? He didn't know and he didn't care. Whatever it was, it was undoubtedly something mundane.
    “Just buy the damn house,” he said finally, before cutting the call. Taking a deep breath, he realized his chest felt tight, and he chose to walk the long way back around the edge of the terrace, hoping to regather his composure by the time he reached the others. He knew Aaron was still watching him, so he made his way to the door that led inside, and he signaled for Sarah to meet him. She excused herself from whoever she was talking to and made her way over to him. As ever, she seemed totally in control of the situation, as graceful and sociable as he was mannered and stiff.
    “Hey,” he said, trying to seem relaxed, “I'm going to be heading down to Dorset for a few days.”
    She frowned. “Dorset? Why?”
    “Something's come up.”
    “In Dorset?” She smiled. “I didn't think anything ever came up in Dorset.”
    “I just need to do something,” he told her. “It's... old family stuff, that's all.”
    “Family stuff? Well now I know you're lying.”
    “It's nothing,” he replied, trying not to sigh. He was already aware that he should have waited, maybe seemed more casual, but he figured there was no going back now. “I just have to take care of some business. I'd invite you, but it's going to be incredibly boring and, well, I'll tell you about it when I get back. I'll be gone a day or two, maximum.”
    “So you're shooting off just as the kids' school breaks up for summer holidays?”
    “I'll make it up to you.”
    She stared at him for a moment, before slowly nodding. “Okay. I know better than to try to stop you, or to ask too many questions. You're entering one of your semi-regular mysterious phases, aren't you? The ones I tolerate because I know you'll spring back to your usual self eventually?”
    “Am I really like that?”
    She nodded.
    “When I get back,” he continued, “we'll -”
    “Don't make promises,” she replied, leaning closer and kissing him on the cheek. “We both know how those usually end up. Just stay safe and don't be away for more than two nights. The kids are always at their most energetic at the start of their summer holiday, you know.”
    “I'll make it up to you,” he said again.
    “Of course you will,” she said, taking a step back, “and now I have to go and schmooze the editors, reviewers and media personalities you're supposed to be schmoozing, while you drink wine and talk to Aaron about ghosts. Come back soon, okay?”
    “I haven't even left yet.”
    “Haven't you?” She paused, before smiling and heading back inside.
    “What's that supposed to mean?” he called after her, but it was too late. She was already talking to someone he vaguely recognized from the papers. Someone who'd