Off Track by Clare Curzon

Author:Clare Curzon [Curzon, Clare]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789780312374
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Published: 2008-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

DS Rosemary Zyczynski reached home before Max. She had the vegetables prepared and the table laid when she heard him coming up the stairs. There had been no sound of his car, which meant it was left at the front of the house because later he'd be going out again.

‘Hello there,’ he called from the landing, seeing her door ajar. ‘Five minutes and I'm with you.’

It was more like fifteen. He came in breezily on a discreet waft of aftershave. ‘Busy day?’ he enquired after she was thoroughly kissed.

‘Tedious. How about yours?’

‘Energy expended to little avail. A sweaty day in all. When is this heat going to let up?’

He had brought in a bottle of claret, but she took it from his hand. I've put some Montrachet to chill in the fridge. We're having sole, if that suits you.’

‘Perfect. Presented any way except Véronique, I hope.’ He reached in the freezer cabinet for ice and filled the wine bucket.

‘On the bone, lightly grilled with lemon. It's funny how tastes alter. As a teenager I thought Sole Véronique was the last word in sophistication. All those pretty white grapes for decoration.’

‘And sloshy sauce.’

‘Well, for sloshy you must wait for the dessert. I've made quite a mess of cutting up a pineapple.’ She slid the grill pan under the flames and turned them low.

‘So, who took you out dining in your teens?’ he asked, his curiosity piqued.

‘An old friend of my father's, Pavel Piotrowsky. He was a doctor,’ she said shortly. If only ‘Uncle’ Pavel had been her real uncle instead of the disgusting old brute her Aunt Alice was married to.

Max nodded. She still preferred not to talk much of her early years after her parents’ tragic death.

Now, as she waited for the vegetables to reach perfection, she was happy to change the subject. ‘Did you hear any more of your elusive friend of Friday night?’

‘Yes and no.’

He wasn't going to give on this, but she needed to know. There was still a chance they were both looking for the same man.

‘How could it be both?’

‘I traced him to his friend's house, but the bird had flown. Frankly, I'm getting a little tired of his quirkiness.’

She didn't believe him, knowing that complications served only to whet his curiosity further. Max had something of the natural hunter in him: not so different from her own CID team.

Max poured the wine. ‘So what of your tedium? Is it worth itemising?’ He knew she never discussed the cases she was working on, but it was worth a try to keep her off prying into his connection with Egerton. His Rosebud was sharp enough to scent when he could be on to something a tad dodgy.

‘No?’ he questioned as she shook her head, busy with serving the meal. ‘No further adventures in court with our local Portia?’

‘Nothing like that. The Boss slipped out of harness and did a bit of freelance investigating to some purpose. Just to show he hasn't had his edges dulled by deskwork.

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