[Craig Crime Series 03] • The Visitor by King Catriona

Author:King, Catriona [King, Catriona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Goodreads: 17699471
Publisher: Crooked Cat publishing
Published: 2013-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Friday Evening.

The answer phone was flashing ‘one’ as Craig walked through the living-room, pulling open a cold beer. He knew who it was without listening - everyone but his Mother called his mobile, but she hated them. He rang her back, the phone in his right hand, holding his beer with his left.

“Buon giorno Mum, what do you want? I promise I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Now Marco, don’t ask your Mama what she want. You know she only ever want what best for you.”

He laughed as the long running banter between himself and his vivacious mother ramped up.

“I’ll tell you what I want. I want you please to pick up some oregano for me on way. And no be long. You have not see your sister in weeks.”

He rubbed the cool bottle over his forehead. She was right, as usual. “How is Luce?”

“Lucia is fine...except for mad old boyfriend. He is stalking her!”

“What? Which one? Can’t Richard sort him out?” Richard was Lucia’s long-term boyfriend. A concert pianist who was away on tour.

“Ah, you see now...if you came ‘ome more you would know these things. We see more of you when you live in London.” They both laughed.

“OK. This is me, Mum. Leaving right now.” He thought of all the paper work that he should be doing, burying the thought quickly under her excitement.

“Excellente. We ‘ave Penne al' Arrabiata.”

“That’s great, but go easy on the garlic please. I’m on-call all weekend, and I have to work with non-Italians remember. Have some pity on them!”

He ended the call and turned his back determinedly on the mountain of paperwork in the corner, throwing his suit jacket deftly over it. It would wait until tomorrow. Julia wasn’t arriving until lunchtime, so he could make headway on it in the morning. He pulled off his tie and grabbed a worn leather jacket, and a box of chocolates he’d bought in France the month before. Then he pulled the front door hard behind him, relaxing already.

The block’s communal hall light flickered on, just long enough to brighten his four flights to the car park, and he held the door open for one of his homecoming neighbours as he left. She was carrying a pile of books. He wasn’t the only one working at the weekend then. Strangely it didn’t make him feel any better.

As he drove the six miles to Holywood deliberately slowly, he could feel himself starting to relax. Flicking-on the CD player to what he thought was ‘Snow Patrol’s ‘I’m Ready’ he was surprised at the song that crooned out instead. Annette... She’d been changing the stations again.

Instead of the CD or his usual Radio One it was an overly sentimental ballad. It seemed familiar and for a moment he tried to place it, then he suddenly did and fell down the rabbit hole back to 1992. It was ‘I will always love you’, a song he really hated. The original by Dolly Parton was bad enough, but he’d wanted to hang himself every time Whitney Houston’s version had come on.

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