Dig Two Graves by James Harper (important books to read .txt) 📗

she said she was. But after the incident with the fake Detective O’Brien he wasn’t taking any chances.

‘Call Bella. Ask her what was the toast I proposed when I bought her a beer the other day.’

She looked mildly offended that he doubted her, went outside to make the call anyway. The small smile curling her lips when she came back suggested Bella had come up with the right answer.

‘To bad pickup lines.’

He shook his head. Her face fell momentarily before he put her out of her misery.

‘I said cheesy pickup lines.’

She slapped him on the arm, eyes narrowed.

‘She told me to watch out for you. C’mon, let’s go.’

‘You don’t want to stay for a quick drink first?’

She gave the room a longer look this time, shaking her head.

‘I thought I’d been in some shitty places in the world, but this place . . .’

The comment made him think. The word world suggested overseas, made him wonder if the fake O’Brien had been telling the truth about Bella having been in the Marine Corps. And that Liz had, too.

They headed for the door, the sticky floor sucking at their shoes as they went. Outside, an ancient Ford Taurus that wouldn’t have been worth the price of the gas needed to get it to the dump was illegally parked at the curb. He looked up and down the street, didn’t see anything to worry him, then got in.

‘Where’s the blindfold?’

‘Don’t be an ass.’

He wouldn’t have blamed Bella if it had been true and he was being taken to a secret location. As it was, Liz drove them a couple miles to a cheap hotel. He didn’t miss the fact that she took a circuitous route, looked regularly in her mirror the whole way. She stopped outside to let him out.

‘Aren’t you coming in?’

‘No. She’s in room twenty-six.’

‘What’s the secret knock on the door?’

She laughed, already looking in the mirror again.

‘I said don’t be an ass. Now get out.’

He went through the lobby, took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, along the corridor to room twenty-six. It was at the end, right next to the fire escape. He knocked once. The door opened almost before his knuckles left the wood as if she’d been waiting immediately behind it. Liz had sent a message of some sort. He stepped inside, the door clipping his elbow Bella closed it so fast behind him.

‘I suppose I should say thank you for the other night,’ she said.

‘My pleasure.’

‘I hear you’ve been busy since then.’

He shrugged, all part of the everyday rough and tumble, heard again the sound of the fake cop’s teeth breaking on the toilet bowl.

‘Returning lost property is a lot more complicated than people think.’

Thinking to himself, ain’t that the truth.

‘Have you got it with you?’

He shook his head.

‘My family?’

‘I gave it to your sister.’

He ran through the visit, touched on everything that Blair and Leon had told him. She listened without interrupting. It felt as if it was out of politeness, her agitation increasing as she waited for him to finish before asking the question written all over her face.

‘How is my father?’

There was no way to sugar-coat it.

‘He’s very ill. I don’t suppose he’s got long left.’

Two additional words is all it would’ve taken to increase her anguish tenfold.

Missing you.

‘He hired me to find you. To take you home. Like the other toast we had. Except we both know it’s more than that.’

She dropped heavily onto the bed, elbows on her knees, head in her hands. He stared at the top of her head.

Was this the woman who was stalking Gerald Bloodwell? The woman who was suspected of being involved in his son’s death?

‘Your father doesn’t know anything about the attempt on your life.’

She lifted her head to look at him. The lighting had been less harsh, more forgiving, when he talked to her in the Jerusalem Tavern. Even so, she’d aged a lot in the past two days. His words went some small way to reverse the process.

‘Thank you for sparing him that.’

‘But I had to tell your sister.’

She shook her head, eyes closing.

‘That’s not a problem. Blair’s stronger than she looks. She’s had to put up with a lot worse than her big sister nearly getting stabbed.’

He couldn’t stop himself from wondering whether that included dealing with the suspicion that the same big sister was involved in her husband’s death. That thought segued easily into questions that shone an uncomplimentary light on the rest of her family. He was spared from having to ask them by a soft knock on the door.

He startled at the sound. Bella shook her head, it’s okay.

‘It’s Liz with the car key.’

He didn’t care. He moved to the side of the door, the phony cop’s sap in his hand. Nodded at her. She opened the door, shoulders relaxing at the sight of Liz standing there alone. Liz handed her the key and they hugged briefly. Then she was gone, down the fire escape, a whispered Good luck trailing behind her.

He pushed away the thought that if she was relying on luck it was already too late, got to the difficult question he couldn’t avoid any longer.

‘Who do you think is trying to kill you?’ He didn’t give her a chance to reply before he brought up the most unpalatable option, saving her from having to say it. ‘The way your father’s will is drafted means your nephew Merritt stands to gain the most from you dying before your father.’

‘I know. But it can’t be him.’

‘Can’t be, or you don’t want it to be?’

‘Both. You don’t know him.’

She saw what was in his mind like it was stamped on his forehead in red ink.

Nor do you. You’ve been away thirty years.

He absolutely didn’t want to think the thoughts that pushed their way into his mind now. If it wasn’t Merritt, that only left her sister, Blair. What if it was nothing to do with the money? What if Blair herself suspected Bella of