Cold Murder by H.C. Hannah

Author:H.C. Hannah
Language: dan
Format: epub
Publisher: H.C. Hannah
Published: 2017-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Rupert Lorensky’s latest news report cut through the air like a machete in the dingy east London apartment. The television was perched on the grey formica work surface next to the lamp with the swivel-neck, although it gave more light than the lamp. The rest of the grey formica was covered with an array of meticulously organised laboratory equipment from glass conical flasks, large metal vats, square plastic containers and clear tubing linking one to another. Each contained a coloured liquid of various shades of pink. On a shelf beneath the work surface stood a collection of large, brown glass receptacles covered with hazardous material warning labels. The thick scent of cherries, slightly sickly, hung in the air.

The dirty white Venetian blind was drawn over the window as usual. The TV was only switched on at certain times of the day, in contrast to the computer monitor in the far corner of the spartan lounge which was on all the time. But the monitor emitted no sound; only black and white images. Two people, a man and a woman, stood side by side watching the television in silence.

Sheltered by an umbrella, Rupert the reporter was standing outside a row of smart townhouses somewhere in Knightsbridge, reportedly the street where Taya Rossington, the late model and singer, had resided. Rupert had little to add to his previous reports; the cause of her sudden death remained unknown, the results of the post-mortem had yet to be released, her family were now back in the UK and her close circle of friends and PR team were united in the assurance that her death was not drugs-related in any way.

‘Bullshit,’ the man said quietly. The woman, a little younger, glanced at him.

‘Was it a Cherry Blossom case?’ she asked.

The silence in the room suggested an affirmative answer to the question.

‘Why are they all dying?’ the woman asked.

‘How the hell do I know?’ The reply sounded angry, exasperated. ‘They’re not all dying. Patrick survived.’

‘Until you killed him.’

‘You know how I feel about loose ends. And we had other things to gain from Patrick’s death.’

‘Fine, so now you’re debt free, but Patrick was your main distributor, the one with all the connections. How are you going to market Cherry Blossom without him?’

‘No one’s indispensable Sadie, and anyway, I’ve already got myself — us — an alternative distribution outlet. Much better than Patrick.’

‘What, seriously? Who?’

‘You don’t need to know that.’

‘You’re not putting it online, are you?’

‘Not yet; I still want to keep it exclusive. For now. Until I come up with the magic formula and then we’ll hit the clubs hard. We’ll also expand our European exports; Adam will be a busy boy.’

‘I still feel bad about Patrick. He was your friend. Maybe there are other survivors we don’t know about.’

‘Dammit Sadie, d’you think I haven’t thought of that? Why do you always have to put a negative spin on everything?’

‘I’m being realistic,’ Sadie protested. ‘Suppose one of the survivors says something that can be traced back to us?’

‘Never mind about them.

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