Web of Lies by Sally Rigby (classic novels for teens txt) 📗

any closer, not liking where this was heading. ‘If you think I’m going to wear make-up you can think again.’

‘Look, I’m not going to plaster you with blue eyeshadow and red lipstick. Just some concealer over those bruises and a bit of powder. Trust me, by the time I’ve finished no one will be able to tell. You’ll thank me when you see it.’ She pulled out one of the chairs from the kitchen table and placed it in front of her, gesturing for him to sit.

He did as he was told, not having enough fight in him to refuse. He was saving his energy for the interview with Edgar. ‘Okay, but if I end up looking like a painted doll then you can take it off again. I expect it to look natural.’

Please don’t let him live to regret this.

‘Deal,’ Birdie said, pulling out what he assumed was the concealer. She removed the top and gave the tube a twist and then dabbed his face with the sponge end.

‘That’s enough,’ he said after a few seconds and she hadn’t stopped.

‘Shut up,’ she said, although she did stop and replace the cap.

Then with her finger she gently rubbed all the places she’d been working on.

‘Ouch. Be careful,’ he said when she hit a painful spot to the side of his left eye.

‘You’re such a baby. I’ve almost finished. I’m just going to add some of this amazing setting powder. Don’t panic, it’s perfectly natural-looking.’ She took out a small black compact, and a large brush which she swished around in the powder and applied to his face.

‘How do you know all this? Have you done a course?’

Birdie snorted. ‘It’s just make-up and it’s no big deal. I learnt the same way as most other people, from reading magazines and copying.’ She continued brushing his face and he bit down on his bottom lip to stop from moaning when she touched a tender area. Finally, she stepped back and scrutinised him. ‘Much better. Go and take a look.’

He left the kitchen and went into the hall where there was a large mirror on the wall. He stared, turning his face from side to side so he could check from all angles. She was right, it was an improvement.

‘Thank you,’ he said, returning to the kitchen.

‘See, I told you. You should learn to trust me.’

‘I do. Sometimes.’ He arched an eyebrow in her direction. ‘Come on, it’s time to leave.’ He sorted out Elsa and they left the house.

‘What’s the address?’ she asked, as they got into the car.

‘King Street, in Leicester. Edgar’s a partner at Cross, Barker and Witherspoon Accountants.’

‘I know the street. He must be making a packet if he’s a partner, so why is he claiming to have lost everything?’

‘He has hefty outgoings. School fees, a big mortgage and fancy holidays. None of which he can now afford. That’s why his kids are going to have to come out of school.’

‘I’m sure they’ll manage just fine having a state school education like the rest of us.’ She looked at him. ‘Well, most of us.’

They drove to Leicester and parked outside the Victorian three-storey terraced house where Edgar’s company was situated.

Seb pulled down the visor in front of him and checked his face, wanting to reassure himself the make-up wasn’t obvious. It wasn’t.

‘Okay, let’s go inside,’ he said.

‘Will he see us without an appointment?’

‘We’ll soon find out. If he says no, we’ll play the police card, assuming you’ve got your ID with you.’

‘Of course, I always have it with me. Unless I’m going out on a real bender.’ She grinned. He had no idea whether she was telling the truth or not.

They walked up the three stone steps and through the dark brown painted door into a rectangular-shaped vestibule. The reception desk was in the centre. ‘I’d like to see Edgar Witherspoon. I’m Sebastian Clifford,’ he said to the woman seated behind the desk.

‘Is he expecting you?’

‘He’s not, but I’m a member of his family, if you wouldn’t mind asking him if he would see me.’

She picked up the phone. ‘I have Sebastian Clifford here.’ She paused. ‘Yes, of course.’ She ended the call. ‘He has fifteen minutes before his next appointment, if you’d like to go along to his office. It’s down the corridor and is the first room on the right. He said to just walk in.’

‘Thank you.’

They headed to his office, a square room with high ceilings and cornices, which was painted off-white. On one wall hung a painting, which Seb believed was a Turner print. Edgar was seated at his desk, but he stood as soon as they’d entered.

‘Good God, man, what on earth happened to you?’ He walked around to where they were standing and stood in front of Seb, shaking his head.

His shock appeared genuine. And clearly the make-up wasn’t as efficient at hiding his bruises as he’d hoped. Then again, without it he’d look even worse.

‘I was attacked on Saturday night.’

‘Attacked. Where and by whom?’

‘Market Harborough town centre, when I was walking back to the place I’m renting. I was mugged and beaten up.’

‘What did they take?’

‘My wallet, but it didn’t have much in it. Five pounds and a credit card, which obviously has now been cancelled, so they can’t use it.’

‘Who’d have thought it would happen there, of all places. And you are?’ he nodded at Birdie.

‘This is DC Bird. ’She’s assisting me looking into Donald’s death.’

He scrutinised Edgar’s face after announcing there was a police officer in the room, but it didn’t change. Unless it didn’t register. He hoped the man wasn’t going to clam up, as he often did when there was more than one person talking to him. Although being at work he might be better. He’d have to be, or how would he be able to conduct his business?

‘Oh, you’re still on that, are you? I’m surprised as I didn’t think you’d find anything. The suicide seemed pretty clear cut to me.’

‘I have a few more questions about