Hell For Heather (Inspector Swinton Australian Mysteries Book 5) by Flower Pat

Author:Flower, Pat
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2022-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER IX

Peter went out to the garage and got in his car. Its newness, looked forward to as one of the first fruits of his independence, was now nothing but a hazard — another one — part of the conspiracy to trap him. He’d been so clever getting it, but she’d forestalled him, proved herself smarter. All his cleverness went flat and made him look a fool, the fool that he was, that he’d been brought up to be.

He had no idea how long he sat there. He was trying to reason with the menace in his life. It was all round him, upon him, inside him. It was only occasionally and vaguely, now, that he thought of Heather’s money, as of something that had once been within his reach but was now unattainable. Every night, every day that passed, despite all his planning, took him further away from it.

The trouble was, he wasn’t alert enough; he’d been too gullible and far too complacent. He had to show his strength, had to get on top of the problem, had to show them that they weren’t making any headway with their plans to undermine his morale. There was the stroke of genius in him. It was just a matter of thinking ahead, a little further than the other fellow. He’d just go about his business in the normal way, at home and in the office, ignoring their shafts, and then they’d see who’d come out on top.

Peter smiled tight-lipped at the gleaming dashboard. Yes, when he was better, when he didn’t feel so faint and ill, so incredibly tired — then he’d show them. He felt in his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter, and his fingers encountered the earring. Immediately he saw it again, as he’d seen it when he woke up. Candy’s explanation was too simple for him. But not Candy, of course not Candy — she wasn’t tricking him, she’d just been fishing for information, mad with curiosity, when she’d pretended to find it on the floor. Candy wasn’t deliberate enough there was something theatrical and contrived about the placing of the earring. She’d been in the night … she’d come here, especially, with this one small frightening token … it was so like her, the sort of thing she’d do … just a little sign to let him know that she was ever with him, ever watchful, ever revengeful.

His shaking hands fumbled with the lighter, and he leaned back against the seat, panting, trying to still the pounding of his heart. If only he could scream at her; if only she’d materialize so that this time he could make no mistake.

He backed down the drive. He had to get out to open the gates, and there was Mrs Jenkins out on the footpath pretending to trim her bushes and eyeing his new car with interest. He drove through and got out again to shut the gates.

“Good morning, Mr Baxter. I like your new car.”

He inclined his head with a supercilious smile.

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