The Other Woman Read Free

– you name it, I’ve got plans for it.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Lionel, his voice equally carrying. ‘ Simon showed me them. Very impressive.’ He turned to Mac. ‘Simon Whitworth,’ he said. ‘My partner – he really looks after Mr Parker’s business. I’m here for the beer, as they say.’
    Mac smiled politely, and thought he had better move around before he actually fell asleep in the smoky atmosphere. He wandered over to the windows, which slid back to enable the executives to wander out into the elements and actually watch the football. He stepped through the open window, where the night air damply kept the temperature at a tolerable level in the room, and looked at the misty figures as they ran through churned-up mud, heard the shouts of the players, and the thud of the ball, watched moisture bead the rail round the balcony. If play moved to the far side of the pitch, he couldn’t see it at all. He didn’t want to see it anyway.
    He went back inside, and wondered how soon he could escape. Parker was seeing some of his guests off; Evans was tucking into the buffet. Mac positioned himself in a darkened corner where air from the window could be breathed, and waited until he was pretty sure that no one was aware of his presence, then slipped away.
    Parker returned, and Lionel Evans found himself being led to the open window. Together they went out on to the balcony, and the window was very firmly closed.
    Lionel sighed inwardly. It was Simon who ostensibly looked after Parker’s dealings in the town; Parker’s business had been the sole reason for Lionel’s having taken on a partner. Parker really shouldn’t be seen conspiring in corners with him.
    Simon had declined the invitation to the opening, and had worked late as usual. Lionel had left him dictating to Sharon, who was pleased to have the overtime, he supposed, though he would have thought that a girl of her age should have better things to do on a Friday night. Lionel had received a last-minute invitation, and was there because it had seemed like a pleasant way to spend an evening; he should have known that there was no such thing as a free lunch.
    â€˜You know Sharon came here to speak to me?’ Parker asked.
    Lionel frowned. ‘Sharon?’ he repeated, uncomprehendingly, feeling the vulnerable way one does when one’s thoughts are apparently read.
    â€˜Sharon,’ repeated Parker. ‘Your secretary.’
    â€˜I know who she is,’ said Lionel testily. It had been Parker who had recommended Sharon when Lionel’s previous secretary left. Why should a visit to her old boss be newsworthy?
    â€˜She told me something that you ought to hear,’ said Parker.
    The young man came into the office. ‘ You wanted me, sir?’ he asked, his round, almost child-like face belying the commendation for bravery that he had received. His fair hair was curly, and cut short, adding to the impression.
    Chief Inspector Lloyd looked up from the report he was reading, and nodded briefly. ‘ Interested in conservation, are you, Detective Sergeant Finch?’ he asked, employing what Judy called his RSC Welsh.
    â€˜Yes, sir,’ replied Finch, a little uncertainly.
    Lloyd wished he hadn’t thought of Judy. ‘Sit down,’ he said, with an extravagant sigh.
    Judy Hill had been a previous sergeant of his; she was a detective inspector in B Division now, based at Malworth. She was also the woman with whom he shared his life and with whom he had shared his flat until six weeks and three days ago.
    Finch swallowed a little, and sat down gingerly; rather as though he thought the chair might have a whoopee cushion on it.
    â€˜Preservation of endangered species?’ he asked the youth. Detective sergeant, indeed. In his day you had to have had some service before they went about promoting you.
    â€˜Sir,’ said Finch, his voice deeply