A Pocketful of Blackmail by Strong Rodney

Author:Strong, Rodney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LoreQuinn Publishing
Published: 2022-06-19T00:00:00+00:00

At the top of the stairs she stopped outside Grant’s door, took a moment to smooth her hair, then lightly knocked.

‘Coming,’ a muffled voice came from the other side.

A moment later the door swung open. Grant had discarded his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. ‘Hello! Catherine. Lovely to see you.’

‘Sorry to interrupt your work, I was just hoping to speak with you.’

‘No, no, no, not at all.’

‘Oh.’

‘Sorry, badly worded. That was no, no, no, not at all, I don’t mind the interruption. Please come in.’

He stepped aside to let her enter. The bedroom was a similar size as hers, and just as tidy. A single medium-sized black suitcase sat next to the wardrobe. His jacket was neatly hung over the back of the chair by the window. Next to that, a small square table sat crowded with a typewriter and a stack of papers.

‘Please,’ Grant said gesturing for her to sit in the chair. He perched on the edge of the bed and placed his hands on his knees. ‘How may I help you? I assume this isn’t a social visit.’

‘Why presume that?’

Grant pushed his glasses up on his nose before returning his hand to his knee. ‘I don’t, er, tend to get a lot of beautiful women visiting me socially.’

Take that Grace, Alice thought.

‘I find that hard to believe,’ she replied with a smile. ‘Didn’t I see Grace coming out of your room yesterday?’

His cheeks turned pink and he gave a quick grin. ‘She, um, had a delicate legal matter she wished to discuss.’

‘Well, the truth is, I too have a legal matter I’d like some advice on.’

‘What sort of legal matter?’

Alice leaned forward, closing the gap between them to a few inches. ‘It’s a case of ownership. I have a painting that was promised to me, yet the artist has passed away and didn’t mention the ownership of the painting in his will. I was wondering what I can do to claim what was promised.’

‘I see,’ Grant replied softly. ‘I’m afraid if there’s nothing in writing backing up your claim of ownership then you have little legal recourse.’

‘I see. Thank you for your honesty, Mr Pencarrow.’

‘Please call me Grant.’

‘Grant. I’m sorry for interrupting you. And I’m sorry that you have to work on the weekend.’

‘Ah,’ he replied, glancing at the typewriter. ‘No rest for the wicked, I fear. We all have masters we must answer to. Mine consider murder a poor excuse for not completing an assignment.’

‘Even one’s own?’

‘I suspect there they may make allowances, although I couldn’t guarantee it.’

They chuckled and Alice admired how, when his face relaxed, she could glimpse the man beneath the awkward exterior.

‘I must say,’ Grant began, ‘you seem to have taken finding Anna Masters body in your stride. If it’s not too presumptuous to ask, was that your first encounter with a dead body?’

‘It was.’

‘Mine too.’

‘You didn’t serve in the war?’

‘Between my eyesight and age – I was only sixteen when the war started and keen as mustard to fight, but they found other uses for me.

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