Sleeping Malice: A psychological thriller, where nobody is innocent. by Adrian Spalding

Sleeping Malice: A psychological thriller, where nobody is innocent. by Adrian Spalding

Author:Adrian Spalding [Spalding, Adrian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-14T05:00:00+00:00


La Belle Etoile.

Taking a deep breath, Greg turned on the engine of his small hired car and wondered why Jane Bashford-Lynch, or whatever she wanted to call herself, had decided that he should have the pleasure of calling a ‘secret number' and speaking to someone unknown at the other end. He only assumed that that someone was a man, but maybe it was William Lynch’s’ lover and a woman would answer and that would be an interesting turn of events. In fact, more and more Greg started to feel he was finding interesting things about the village and its inhabitants, the mysterious English person that Helen was visiting, sounded just the sort of person that Greg should speak to in the search for two missing men. He understood that people might want to avoid too much company, why else would you want to move to an isolated French village? But to attract the interest of a Daily Mirror reporter, however green around the gills that reporter purports to be, there must be something of interest. So Greg went to the town information centre, also known as the baker’s, bought a large pain au raisin and asked, in very broken French, about the lone Englishman and where he lived. Following excellent directions and a map drawn on the back of a paper bag, he was now pulling up outside the isolated house at Belle Etoile. There are very few secrets in village life that cannot be uncovered.

“Puis-je vous aider?”

Greg turned to see who was speaking to him, he locked the car out of habit not necessity. Walking towards Greg was a tall well-built man, dressed in blue slim jeans, a plain red polo shirt, with a discreet Ralph Lauren logo, both items too clean and well pressed to be working clothes. The man walked towards Greg wiping his hands with what appeared to be a torn piece of white sheeting.

“Are you Phillip?”

“An English voice, how refreshing, yes indeed you are speaking to Phillip and to whom am I talking?”

“Greg, Greg Auden,” he offered his hand and they shook hands. “Nice place you have here, I have a one bedroom flat back in the UK, so I am envious of your house, land and the view that you have.”

“You should never be jealous of what anyone else has or does not have, many material possessions only mask pain and hurt. What can I do for you?”

Greg stood looking across the wide vista that surrounded him, even for a dull winter’s day with some broken clouds, the view was impressive. Fields and woodland dominated the view, with houses few and remote, far away their chimneys spiralling wood smoke up into the sky.

“Back in the UK I have some friends whose partners have taken a trip to France but have not been seen or heard of since. I’m here trying to help find them, so I wondered,” Greg turned and faced Phillip, “if you had seen or heard anything recently? The first one left his car not too far from here.



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