Irish - 01 - Bad Debts by Peter Temple

Author:Peter Temple [Temple, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General
ISBN: 9781596921290
Publisher: M P Publishing Limited
Published: 1996-01-01T13:00:00+00:00

20

When I got home, I rang Linda Hillier. She wasn’t at her desk, said a man. He took a message. I was looking sadly into the near-empty fridge when the phone rang.

‘We need to talk,’ Linda Hillier said.

‘Endlessly,’ I answered. Then I went for it. ‘Can you come around here? No. Will you come around here?’

‘What’s the address?’

I walked around the corner to Papa’s Original Greek Taverna and bought some bread, olives, dolmades and an unidentified fish stuffed with thyme and basil from Mrs Papa. Menu price less fifteen per cent, that was our deal.

I was just out of the shower when the bell rang. I pulled on underpants, denims and a shirt.

‘Well, hello,’ she said. There was rain on her hair.

‘You’re wet,’ I said.

‘So are you. At least I’ve got shoes on.’

She had changed since this morning. She was wearing a trenchcoat over grey flannels, a cream shirt and a tweed jacket. I caught her scent as I took the coat and jacket. It was, in a word, throaty.

‘This is nice,’ she said, looking around.

We stood awkwardly for a moment, something trembling in the air between us. I looked around at the books in piles on every surface, the CDs and tapes everywhere, the unhung pictures, seeing the place for the first time in years.

‘It’s sort of gentlemen’s club mates with undergraduate student digs,’ she said.

I cleared my throat. ‘Come into the kitchen and I’ll give you a drink. What would you like?’ The kitchen was respectable. I’d cleaned it recently.

‘Whisky and water if you’ve got it.’

She had a good inspection of the contents of the open shelves while I got the drinks, watching her out of the corner of my eye and telling her about my visit to Father Gorman. I poured myself a glass of Coldstream Hills pinot noir from a bottle I’d started on the day before.

‘Cheers,’ I said.

‘Cheers. I’ve met Gorman a couple of times. He’s a walker for high-society hags. Something slimy about him.’

‘A walker?’

‘Takes them to the theatre, to parties. When their husbands are too busy fucking the secretary.’

‘You’re very knowledgeable,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a fish. If you’re hungry.’

‘A fish,’ she said thoughtfully. Our eyes were locked. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away.

‘It doesn’t have to be fish.’

She bit her lower lip. ‘What else have you got?’

I wanted very much to bite her lower lip. ‘There’s some steak,’ I said. ‘Sirloin. Frozen.’

We had somehow got closer. I couldn’t remember moving. She put out her left hand and touched the hollow in my throat with one finger.

‘Sirloin,’ she said. She put her glass down on the counter and slowly folded her arms under her breasts. It was somehow a hugely erotic gesture. ‘Anything else?’

‘Dolmades?’

We looked at each other in silence. I wanted to move my erection to a more comfortable position but I was paralysed. She looked down at it.

‘Have you got a condom?’ she said.

I swallowed some wine with difficulty. ‘I suppose you’ll think I’m predatory if I say yes?’

She nodded.

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