Deadly by Design by Paige Edwards

Author:Paige Edwards
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2020-01-15T23:50:53+00:00

Chapter 25

Charles dropped his walking stick in the umbrella stand beside the door. The house smelled of leftover food, pungent air, and stale tobacco from his father’s pipe-smoking days. The place had gone downhill since he’d discontinued the cleaning service, but he couldn’t have people snooping through his things. He really didn’t care about the mess. A few more months and he’d be in the tropics.

He shucked off his anorak and laid it across the back of a chair as a pink and gold sunset bathed the sky outside the window. He didn’t bother removing his hiking boots before crossing the rug and switching on the BBC News.

A tenement fire in Manchester had killed a family of eight.

Rainfall in East Anglia had caused record flooding along coastal towns.

He switched to BBC Sports and caught the tail end of the latest F1 podium. Hamill and Ventrossi had placed first and second. Nothing new there. The two had dominated every grand prix since Whalen had passed. The sportscaster flashed a picture of Davis Racing on the screen.

“Davis Racing Ltd. may be in the suds. Davis’s ongoing woes continue as their latest F1 model failed to place. Is this the end of the iconic family’s rise to fame?”

Charles’s spirits lifted, and he crossed the room to pour himself a shot. Golden whiskey splashed in his glass. He downed it in one swallow and enjoyed the burn. Lucky for him, the hacker, whoever it was, hadn’t accessed the embedded spyware inside the CAD software.

But someone must know blueprints had gone missing. Why else would they hack into the computer mainframe?

He poured another shot and tossed it back. “Ahh.” Carrying the decanter and glass, he sank into his favorite upholstered chair and closed his eyes. One more shot and he’d turn in for the night.

His mobile went off. Still holding his glass, he set the decanter on a side table. Why would Alasdair call at such a late hour?

He swiped the icon on his mobile. “Hiya.”

“We’ve got a problem,” Alasdair said through the speaker.

“I wish for once, Alasdair, that you’d greet m-me with a little m-more aplomb. What can’t wait until m-morning?”

“Jack checked out his work computer.”

“And?” He made an impatient gesture.

“He’s no hacker, but the man isn’t an imbecile. What if he locates the spyware we installed?”

“What m-makes you think he has time to work this weekend? Have you seen the redhead he’s dating? I doubt she’d let him ignore her for an instant.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. He’ll be lucky to keep that one after tonight. Good old Jack had a kafuffle at the pub. You missed quite a show.”

“What happened?”

“It seems he was stringing two women along.”

“Jack?” Impossible.

“One and the same. You know that pretty little blonde, the curvy one who cleans houses?”

“Yes?” How could he forget?

“She showed up at the pub tonight in a pair of fairy wings, leotard, and little else. Lovely sight. She visited Jack and the redhead’s table and gave him the what for.”

“How crass.”

“Not at all. Despite the costume, she was every inch the lady.

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