by Jim Eldridge
‘Yes, it was. But he was very plausible.’
‘To me, not to you.’
He almost said: But I wasn’t emotionally tangled up with him. Instead, he said, ‘Call it a copper’s intuition.’ Cautiously, he added, ‘I’m surprised Sir William showed it to you. I got the impression he was going to keep its contents for his eyes only.’
She hesitated, then admitted, ‘He didn’t show it to me. I was waiting for him in his office and I saw something with your name attached on his desk. I was curious and looked, and found the report under some other papers. When I saw the title “Mr Edward Hardwicke”, I looked at it. Fortunately, it was short so it didn’t take me long to read. I’d replaced it by the time Sir William entered the room.’ Angrily, she burst out, ‘You should have showed it to me! You showed it to Sir William!’
‘Sir William had paid for that report. It was his.’
‘But we were partners in this investigation! That’s what you said!’
‘Indeed, we were. But I felt if you were to read it, you would be hurt. You were already hurt enough when you discovered he was the killer, and he’d wormed his way into your friendship. I felt revealing all this to you would have been … even worse for you.’
‘That was for me to decide!’ raged Abigail.
‘No, it wasn’t,’ said Daniel. ‘I was aware that you harboured feelings for him—’
‘How dare you!’ snapped Abigail. ‘I did not!’
‘Yes, you did,’ said Daniel doggedly. ‘You may deny it now, but you did. And I could not see you hurt any more than you already have been.’
‘Why not?’ Abigail challenged him. ‘You were right and I was wrong about him! I stand by what I said before: you have the right to gloat.’
‘And as I said to you then, if you think I am the kind of man who does that then you have misjudged me, and you don’t really know me at all,’ said Daniel. ‘In which case, maybe it’s better that we part on these terms. You angry and misjudging me. Me, hurt in my own way, and obviously misjudging you.’ He looked at her politely but coldly. ‘It has been a pleasure to work with you and know you, Miss Fenton …’
‘For God’s sake, don’t be such a sanctimonious prig!’ she shouted at him, and then she sank down onto the crate, dropped her head into her hands and burst into tears.
Immediately, Daniel sat down beside her, anxiety on his face.
‘Oh God,’ she moaned. ‘Tears! There goes the last vestige of my dignity!’
‘Miss Fenton …’ began Daniel awkwardly.
‘Abigail! My name is Abigail!’ she shouted, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘And I don’t want you to go! And not just on these terms! I want you to stay!’
Daniel stared at her, stunned. ‘But … but …’ he stammered.
‘You may be a bloody good detective, Mr Wilson, but when it comes to recognising a woman’s true feelings you are useless!’
‘You want me to stay?’
‘Yes! Alright, not for ever. I know you have work which will take you to many different places, but for the moment I want you to stay. With me. I think you are the best man I have ever met, and right now I want you to hold me and kiss me and tell me you care for me …’
‘I do care for you!’ said Daniel earnestly. ‘If only you knew how much! From the first moment I saw you.’
‘Then why didn’t you say so?’ burst out Abigail.
‘Because … because we’re from two different worlds. Because you are smart, intelligent …’
‘For God’s sake, talk to me later. Right now, if you feel it, hold me and kiss me.’
And he did.
As he enveloped her in his arms and kissed her passionately, feeling her kissing him back, he heard a woman’s voice say in disapproval, ‘Well, Maude, will you look at that! You’d think respectable-looking people like that would be able to control themselves in public.’
As their footsteps moved off, he thought, I don’t care. I have met the woman I want to be with.
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About the Author
JIM ELDRIDGE was born in central London towards the end of World War II, and was blown up (but survived) during attacks by V2 rockets on the Euston/Kings Cross area of London where he lived. He left school at sixteen and did a variety of jobs, before training as a teacher. In 1971 he sold his first sitcom (starring Arthur Lowe) to the BBC and had his first book commissioned. Since then he has had over 100 books published, with sales of over three million copies. He lives in Kent with his wife.
jimeldridge.com
By Jim Eldridge
Murder at the Fitzwilliam
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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London W1T 6DW
allisonandbusby.com
First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2018.
This ebook edition published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2018.
Copyright © 2018 by JIM ELDRIDGE
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted
in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–2381–2