by Frank Smith
Joanna looked stern. “You have a talent, Vikki, and it would be a shame to waste it, so I want you to promise me you’ll keep working on your sketching. Later, perhaps, who knows, it could lead to something you can do for a living, and we’ll help you as much as we can.”
“Oh, Joanna!” The light in Vikki’s eyes was answer enough. But suddenly the light went out. “But what about the police?”
“No doubt they’ll want to talk to you,” Joanna told her, “and you may be needed as a witness later, but for now they are prepared to release you into my custody. So, at least you’ll have a home to go to when they let you out of here.”
A home to go to! Vikki blinked back the tears.
Joanna rose to leave. “I have to go,” she said. “Being Saturday, George will be needing me. Sorry I didn’t bring you anything, but with all the dashing about I’ve been doing, I’m afraid …”
“Oh, but you did bring me something, Joanna. You did!”
Vikki reached out and clutched Joanna’s hand. “You couldn’t have brought me anything better,” she whispered as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
The lights were low, the music soft, and Andrea McMillan looked ravishing, thought Paget as he looked at her across the table. Leonardo himself had escorted them from the door, and the table was one of the finest in the room.
Andrea looked around. “It’s been a long time,” she observed quietly, and Paget knew exactly what she meant. It seemed like an eternity since their last evening here together, and even now he had trouble believing that this was actually happening. He took a deep breath. Forget the past, he told himself sternly. Look to a new beginning.
“You’re not on call, I hope?” he said. He hadn’t told a soul where he would be, and he’d left his pager at home.
Andrea smiled. “Not tonight,” she assured him. “But that reminds me; I meant to tell you earlier. Dr. Starkie went home today, and I must say he looks one hundred percent better than he did. He’s still not smoking, which is a good sign. Unfortunately, now that he’s stopped, he’s making life miserable for everyone who does smoke.”
“Sounds like Reg,” said Paget. “But his wife will be pleased. I know she’s been very worried about him, so I hope he keeps it up.” Paget liked the crusty and sometimes cantankerous pathologist and wished him well. But tonight he intended to leave work and everything related to it behind. He looked out across the room … and froze!
Threading their way through the tables were Tregalles and his wife, Audrey.
“Why, Chief Inspector, what a lovely surprise!” Audrey beamed at Paget. Behind her stood Tregalles—looking somewhat confused.
Paget rose to his feet. “Dr. McMillan, I’d like to introduce Mrs. Tregalles,” he said formally. “You know Sergeant Tregalles, of course.” The two women exchanged smiles and unintelligible murmurs, while Paget prayed that no one would suggest they sit together.
Something of his thoughts must have conveyed itself to Tregalles, because he took his wife firmly by the arm. “They’re waiting to show us to our table,” he said quietly.
“In just a minute, John,” she said, and went on to explain that tomorrow would be their wedding anniversary. “We’re having the family round for Sunday dinner,” she told them, “but John thought it would be nice if we had this dinner together, just the two of us tonight. He had to book ever such a long time ago to get in. I expect you had to do the same, didn’t you, Mr. Paget?”
“It is very popular,” said Andrea before Paget could reply. “So nice to have met you, Mrs. Tregalles. I hope you have a lovely evening, and a happy anniversary tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Tregalles tapped his wife’s arm again, and Audrey rolled her eyes expressively.
“Got to go,” she said in a stage whisper. “Can’t keep John away from his dinner for too long or he’ll be grumpy all night. Nice meeting you, Doctor.”
As they moved away, Audrey tugged at her husband’s arm. “I thought you told me that Mr. Paget was going with …”
The rest of her words were lost, and not a moment too soon, thought Paget as he turned once more to Andrea.
ALSO BY FRANK SMITH
Candles for the Dead
Stone Dead
Fatal Flaw
Dragon’s Breath
The Traitor Mask
Defectors Are Dead Men
Corpse in Handcuffs
Sound the Silent Trumpets
THREAD OF EVIDENCE. Copyright © 2001 by Frank Smith.
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eISBN 9781429980777
First eBook Edition : March 2011
First Edition: March 2001