The Silent Pool. Phil Kurthausen. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Phil Kurthausen
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Зарубежные детективы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781472074294
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a million times it's “H” not Heather and you could be right but you are making some big assumptions about what life is about. I owe you one. Catch you around!’ And with that she dropped her board and skated after her friends.

      Erasmus stood there for a second and then noticed he was being watched. It was the fat woman from Philpotts. She was eating a sandwich. His sandwich.

      She saw Erasmus staring at her.

      ‘Whaaa?’ she said through a mouthful of cheese and salad cream.

       CHAPTER 12

      The address Jenna had given him was in Aigburth. It was a part of the city that he was not familiar with. It seemed like he wasn't the only one as the cab driver drove around narrow streets looking for a road that didn't seem to show up on his sat nav. Eventually, it was Erasmus who spotted a set of stone gateposts set back from the road that marked the entrance to a private road. Just beyond the posts, Erasmus could see an old black street sign with grey lettering spelling out Grasmere Road. The cabbie performed a quick U-turn and took them through the gates.

      The change once through the gates was clear. Redbrick Victorian terraces gave way to grand Georgian mansions partially hidden by oak and beech trees.

      The road ran down towards the river. Erasmus ticked off the numbers eventually stopping at the last house before the road ran out, just before the railings that marked the division between land and sea.

      The house overlooked the black strip of the Mersey and across to the Wirral. It was a large Georgian house, white stucco and columns that spoke of merchants, slaves and molasses.

      Erasmus paid the cabbie and stepped out into the cold early evening. It was already getting dark, old-fashioned wrought-iron lamps casting little puddles of light in the gloom. Erasmus imagined not much had changed on this road in the last hundred years.

      A curtain flicked at one of the large downstairs windows and then a coach light came on above the shiny black front door. A few moments later, the door opened and Jenna appeared under the pale light, beckoning him in. She was wearing skin-tight jeans with leather boots and a fitted mohair jumper. Erasmus felt his heart quicken. He briefly thought of the sirens that lured sailors to their doom. Instinctively, he felt for the phone in his jacket pocket: Molly was a call away.

      ‘Hi,’ she said as he approached. Her eyes were twinkling with an amusement that Erasmus had seen before. It was the knowledge of charms worked.

      ‘Bet you weren't expecting this place, were you?’

      Erasmus shook the proffered hand. ‘Well, no not really. I thought Stephen worked for the council. And you…’ He floundered.

      Jenna laughed

      ‘Yes, I'm a housewife and it's a noble profession so you don't need to feel embarrassed. I made my choices and am happy with them. Anyway, come and let me fix you a drink.’

      Erasmus followed her inside.

      She led Erasmus through the large hallway towards a reception room. They passed a corridor that led to the kitchen and as they did so Erasmus noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, a dark shape moving quickly, as though to get out of sight.

      Erasmus paused and looked towards where he had seen the movement.

      Jenna turned around.

      ‘You OK?’

      ‘I thought we were alone?’

      ‘Ever the investigator, eh? As you may have guessed this is not mine and Stephen's house. It's Stephen's uncle Theodore's house. Come on, you can't tell me you don't know about him. I know why Dan's firm have taken my “case”. He's kindly agreed to put me up for a few days until, well, until Stephen comes back. And yes we are alone. I think you may have just seen Theo's Labrador though. ’

      She held open a door.

      The reception room was different from the hall. Instead of white walls and oak floors this room was an explosion of primary colours and soft furnishings. Jenna gestured towards a sofa and Erasmus sat down. Jenna took a seat on the same couch, turning to face him. She was so close her thigh was brushing the top of Erasmus’ leg.

      He took a deep breath. He was here to give her bad news and he would do it professionally and then leave, he told himself.

      ‘What can I get you?’

      Erasmus declined the offer of a drink. The truth was he didn't want Jenna to move from right where she was sat. She, however, got up anyway and went across to a drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. She fixed herself a long slug of neat Absolut over ice and then sat back down next to him. There was an awkward silence for a moment.

      Erasmus tried to focus on something else. On the coffee table there was a large book. Erasmus picked it up and looked at the cover: Architecture – the Masterworks by Will Pryce.

      ‘Is Theo into architecture?’

      ‘It's mine actually. First a housewife and now assuming this must be Theo's? Shame on you.’

      Erasmus started to blush but then he saw that Jenna's lips were upturned and a mischievous glint was in her eye.

      She took the book from Erasmus’ hands and flicked through its pages. Then she shut it sharply and placed it back on the table.

      ‘A housewife doesn't have much use for architecture,’ she said, and for the first time there was a hint of frustration in her tone.

      ‘You sound resentful.’

      She sipped her drink and looked away from him into middle distance.

      ‘I was Stephen's first girlfriend and he married me. It sounds so old-fashioned in this day and age but that is the way Stephen has always been. He loved me from the first moment he saw me. He has always been sure and free of doubt.’

      ‘And you? Are you the same?’

      ‘Not at all. I am full of doubt, always have been. Stephen wasn't my first real boyfriend either.’

      ‘Where did you two meet?’

      ‘I met him at university, Manchester Met.’

      ‘Let me guess, your eyes met over a pint of snakebite?’

      Jenna picked up the book again and placed it on her knees.

      ‘Not quite. I was a third-year Architecture student and he was a first-year Theology major. We were oil and water.’

      ‘So how did you meet?’

      She sighed.

      ‘He rescued me.’

      ‘From what?’

      ‘From myself. I enjoyed University. I grew up five miles from here in a dirt-poor part of this city and education was the only way out for me. I knew this from an early age so I ignored everything and concentrated on learning. I played by the rules and I was rewarded. I got my A-levels and I went to university.’

      ‘So, what happened? Why did you need rescuing?’

      Jenna looked away, when she turned back to face Erasmus any hint of playfulness had disappeared.

      ‘I fell in love.’

      ‘With Stephen?’

      Jenna flipped open the book that was resting on her lap.

      ‘No, not with Stephen, with Dietrich. He was a visiting professor, he drank coffee not lager and smoked Turkish cigarettes, he talked passionately of ideas and not the latest indie pop band sensation. He was, as I imagined, all that university would be. I felt like I had finally met someone who understood what life was about.’

      She was smiling now.

      ‘But you ended up with Stephen?’

      Her fingers played with a small St Christopher that hung