"Francis, Clare - A Death Divided" - читать интересную книгу автора (Francis Clare)

'You're sounding like a stress therapist. Go on - bugger
off.'
Anna touched his shoulder. 'Thanks for this, Joe. You're a
total star.'
'What I am,' he grunted, 'is a total idiot.'
After they'd gone, Joe tried to work out how Anna had got
to hear about Sarah and decided it must have come from the
ex-Merrow lawyer who'd introduced them. It certainly hadn't
come from his own mouth. Life at the firm was quite hard
enough without providing fodder for the office gossips. There
was a price to pay for non-participation of course - he'd got a
reputation as a dark horse - but better that than the jokes and
the need to explain the bewildering fact that, until Sarah, there
had been no one special in his life for some time.
Fishing out his mobile, he went to the window to call her.
It was half-past eight; he tried to guess where she'd be. Not at
the office anyway. She worked for the West London division
of the Crown Prosecution Service, and, frantic though the job
was, they all knocked off at five. Shopping then, though peering
out between the slats of the blind at the streaming rain he
thought not. He decided she was most likely to be at home in
a hot bath. He hadn't seen her flat yet - they always went to
his place - but he imagined it to be neatly kept and cleverly
furnished, because that was Sarah's style. He pictured her now
in a .white bath, pale hair tied up on top of her head, long legs
stretched out in scented water, breasts just breaking the surface.
Purely from wishful thinking, he liked to imagine she was
thinking of him.
Her mobile didn't answer, nor, it seemed, would her house
line. Then, just as he was leaving a message, she picked up.
The quiet solemnity of her voice still took him by surprise.
'I've got caught up,' he said, and explained about the video
conference. 'Dinner could be late.'
But she never minded waiting, just as she never complained
when he had to cancel at the last minute. 'That's okay,' she
said. 'Whenever.'

6

'I'll call when I'm on my way. Nine thirty, with a bit of
luck.'
'Shall I warn the restaurant?' It was typical of her to cover
such practicalities.
That'd be great.' Before ringing off, he had to ask, 'What
are you doing?'
'Now? Oh, just Friday night stuff. You know. Sorting
myself out. Talking to Fiona.' Her flatmate was also in the
GPS, at another branch.
'Not in the bath?'
'Half an hour ago. Why?'