A Match Made for Murder by Iona Whishaw (top 10 best books of all time txt) 📗

but I’m sure she appreciated the security I gave her. She’s had a dreadful life. Grew up in awful poverty in Chicago. I can’t help worrying about where she will go. Of course, if she runs out of money and comes back, I will probably take her back. I’ll try to understand her a little better. We can make up, I’m sure of it.”

Darling looked at Lane, and Lane cleared her throat.

“It is possible she did have somewhere to go,” Lane began gently.

Galloway woke feeling groggy. His eyes were swollen and blurry, and he had a headache. He’d drunk too much and he knew it. In the light of the morning, he was unable to recapture the clarity he’d had the night before and now felt only a kind of messy confusion. He tried to stave off the growing sense of alarm this feeling was engendering.

Standing at the kitchen sink, he poured a glass of water and winced at the acrid taste it had in his mouth. Morning sunlight was beginning to saturate the patio wall, and for a moment, he was comforted by what he had. He’d made it after all: assistant chief of police and, without a doubt, next in line for chief. He’d done that. He’d managed this house, his job, his wife. He’d done everything he had to. It had been laughably easy.

He turned away from the view of the patio with its orange trees and Talavera tiles and reached for the coffee pot. Immediately his mood darkened again, and for one moment he was almost able to name what he was feeling—he recoiled from it as he would from a burning building.

He started with the easy part of his list. He had Griffin. That wouldn’t change, provided Martinez didn’t mess the whole thing up. There was a promotion he shouldn’t have encouraged, he thought bitterly. He’d go in today and nail down the loose ends. His confidence began to assert itself with the smell of the coffee percolating on the stove. He had always managed to get what he wanted, what he needed. That ability would never leave him. After that, he’d tackle the hospital. Someone there knew something—he was sure of it.

The day before

“Hey!”

Startled, Hidalgo scrambled up clumsily and knocked over the chair, trying to shake the shock and sleep out of his head. What was she doing there?

“I’ve seen you, you know. What do you think you’redoing?”

In desperation he pointed toward the field. “Yo soy—”

“Uh huh. Don’t try that Spanish stuff on me. You work for him, don’t you?”

“Who?” he tried.

“My husband. You think I don’t see you following me around? How long have you been spying on me?”

Hidalgo looked anxiously across the road to see if anyone had come out to listen. Mr. Griffin would kill him as it was for blowing his cover. She was pretty when she got mad. Her blue eyes were flashing, and her blond hair fluttered around her face like a halo. She was wearing a red sundress that certainly did justice to her figure.

“I’ve been here since you and him,” he nodded his head toward the hotel, “came down here.”

To his amazement she blanched and stepped back, nearly unbalancing on a rock. She looked up and down the road. “The whole time?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you report to him, everything you’ve seen?”

“The truth is, I don’t see much, so not much to tell.” He wasn’t going to tell her he’d seen and reported the young man.

“You’re lying. I can see you are.”

“He’s just looking after you, miss. Making sure you’re all right.”

“And you’re lying again. Well, I bet he’d be interested in the fact that I’ve seen you. Sticking out like a sore thumb isn’t a good quality in a mob spy. But we ain’t going to play it like that.” She began to pace, covering up a growing panic. “You stay here. I’m coming out with an envelope with one hundred dollars in it. And then I’m going to tell you what you’re going to say him.”

Meg was really frightened. After talking to her husband’s man, she had sought refuge in a little lounge off the silent, carpeted hallway. She had to get away. She knew that now. He couldn’t be trusted. He’d kill her next. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she closed her eyes and tried to still the pounding of her heart. She couldn’t do this sort of thing anymore. Her eyes flew open. She looked at her watch and put her hands firmly on the arms of the chair she was in. She knew where his money was. He was going out to meet, God, she couldn’t remember who, but that gave her time. She’d leave here, hide out for a day in case they checked the bus and train stations, and then she’d be off, away from him for good. With a new resolution, she pushed herself out of the chair and walked quickly back to the villa. Chicago. She could start there.

Griffin frowned at the memory of his shock and subsequent rage. It hadn’t been his finest hour. That’s when you make mistakes.

He thought about her now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t enjoyed a fling or two. There was a lot of temptation when you ran a popular restaurant with entertainment. He and Meg, they’d been partners right from the get-go. She’d been good at the job. What was a little transgression in the bigger scheme of things? The idea of Florida rose again. Just the two of them in an apartment looking out at the ocean, enjoying a retirement they’d more than earned. Or he could start a little restaurant there, legit. She could be at the front till she started to lose her figure.

Almost laughing, he straightened up. The answer was right in front of him the whole time. He’d put his money into Florida real estate. Get a start on that retirement plan. He put his Cuban out