"Archer, Jeffrey - twelve red herrings)txt)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Archer Jeffrey)

overnight. In fact I suspect he would have disapproved of the very
idea, as he went to his deathbed still believing that a ten-pound
overdraft was quite adequate to conduct a well-run business.

During the 98os the British economy showed continual growth, and
by March 984 Cooper's shares had topped the fivepound mark, following
press speculation about a possible takeover. Jeremy had advised me to
accept one of the bids, but 1

told him that I would never allow Cooper's to be let out of the
family's control. After that, we had to split the shares on three
separate occasions, and by x989 the Sunday Times was estimating that
Rosemary and I were together worth around thirty million pounds.

I had never thought of myself as being wealthy - after all, as far
as I was concerned the shares were simply pieces of paper held by Joe
Ramsbottom, our company solicitor. I still lived in my father's house,
drove a five-year-old Jaguar, and worked fourteen hours a day. I had
never cared much for holidays, and wasn't by nature extravagant.
Wealth seemed somehow irrelevant to me.

I would have been happy to continue living much as I was, had I
not arrived home unexpectedly one night.

I had caught the last plane back to Heathrow after a particularly
long and arduous negotiation in Cologne, and had originally intended to
stay overnight in London. But by then I'd had enough of hotels, and
simply wanted to get home, despite the long drive.

When I arrived back in Leeds a few minutes after one, I found
Jeremy's white BMW parked in the driveway.

Had I phoned Rosemary earlier that day, I might never have ended
up in jail.

I parked my car next to Jeremy's, and was walking towards the
front door when I noticed that there was only one light on in the house
- in the front room on the first floor. It wouldn't have taken
Sherlock Holmes to deduce what might be taking place in that particular
room.

I came to a halt, and stared up at the drawn curtains for some
time. Nothing stirred, so clearly they hadn't heard the car, and were
unaware of my presence. I retraced my steps and drove quietly off in
the direction of the city centre. When I arrived at
the Queen's Hotel I asked the duty manager if Mr. Jeremy
Alexander had booked a room for the night. He checked the register and
confirmed that he had.

"Then I'll take his key," I told him. "Mr. Alexander has booked