Simon Tolkien Inspector Trave Trilogy: Orders From Berlin, The Inheritance, The King of Diamonds. Simon Tolkien

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       CHAPTER 8

      Ava took out her key and unlocked the door, and came face-to-face with Bertram, waiting for her in the narrow hallway of their flat.

      ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded.

      ‘I told you. I went to see Mrs Willoughby.’

      ‘No, you didn’t,’ he countered. ‘I called her. Her phone number’s in the book, but perhaps you didn’t know that. She says she’s back in Tunbridge Wells with her cat and has been since the funeral, and she told me she doesn’t know anything about an arrangement to see you.’

      ‘How dare you?’ she said. ‘How dare you check up on me?’ They were the first words that came into her head.

      ‘I’ve got a right to,’ said Bertram, standing his ground. ‘You’re my wife, in case you’ve forgotten.’

      She was still standing in the doorway, and she thought of turning around and running back the way she’d come, but she knew there was no point. She didn’t have enough money for a hotel, and besides, this was her home – she hadn’t anywhere else to go.

      ‘Tell me,’ said Bertram, taking a step towards her. ‘Tell me where you went, Ava. You were in one hell of a hurry to get out of the lawyer’s office this morning. It must have been something important. Or someone. …’

      Bertram’s eyes were bulging and his fists were clenched. Ava wondered if he was going to hit her. He’d never done that before, but there was always a first time. Was this how it had happened with her father? she wondered. Had Bertram got angry about something – a loan of money, perhaps – and lashed out in frustration? Maybe that was what her father was saying before he fell: ‘No. No, I won’t’ lend you money. Was that what he’d meant?

      Ava felt like two people. Part of her was scared, backed up against the door, but another part of her was watching her husband with a strange detachment. He was hideous, she thought, and ridiculous too, with his green bow tie sticking out at right angles from under his double chin.

      ‘Who were you with?’ shouted Bertram, infuriated by her lack of response.

      ‘It’s none of your business,’ she said, shrinking away from his panting breath.

      ‘Of course it’s my business. You’re my wife. You do as I say.’ He had hold of her hand now, squeezing her wrist so it hurt her. ‘It was Alec Thorn, wasn’t it? I’ve seen the way he used to stare at you when we were over at your father’s, undressing you with his eyes like you were some kind of scarlet woman. Admit it, Ava!’ he shouted. And when she didn’t respond, he reached back with his free hand and smacked her hard across the cheek.

      She was frightened, but she was angry too, angrier than she’d ever been in all her life. The stinging pain enraged her. What right did this pathetic excuse for a man have to hurt her? He was the one who deserved to be hurt.

      ‘What’ll you do if I don’t admit it?’ she demanded, spitting the words in his face as though she was laying down a challenge. ‘Kill me, like you did my father?’

      He took a step back, visibly shocked by her accusation. His hold on her wrist weakened for a moment and she seized the opportunity to twist out of his grip, then pushed him hard in the chest using both hands. He staggered back against the wall and she ran past him through the hall and into the bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.

      She stood in the centre of the room, listening. She could hear him moving around outside. She bent over, clutching her left side, trying to catch her breath and calm the wild beating of her heart. She felt frightened – she didn’t know what he was going to do. She’d seen the look in his eye when he hit her, and now she was convinced that he had killed her father. Perhaps he hadn’t set out to do it, but once their argument had got out of hand he’d lost his temper and pushed the old man over the balustrade to his death. Then he’d returned to the crime scene not because he was concerned for her, but because he wanted to secure the will so that he could get his hands on his victim’s money. Bertram would do anything for the money. That much was obvious.

      What a fool she had been! Seaforth had warned her not to make Bertram think that she suspected him. Yet within moments of her return to the house, she’d done exactly that. And now she wasn’t safe any more. He’d kill her if he got his hands on her and make it look like a suicide. He was a doctor; he’d know how to do things like that.

      Ava tried to clear her head, to beat down her rising panic. Bertram was outside, trying to get in – the door handle was turning this way and that. She thought of pulling back the blackout curtain, throwing up the window sash, and shouting down into the empty street for help. But she knew that that would do her no good. Even if the police came, they wouldn’t СКАЧАТЬ