Secrets of the Moon by Stephen Hunt

Author:Stephen Hunt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, spy-fy, spies, espionage, mystery, detective
Publisher: Stephen Hunt
Published: 2020-07-16T16:49:44+00:00

Mrs Witchley was resting in the back of Helen’s car. Doyle, in the front passenger seat, shoved the lid of his smart phone down as angrily as if he had just been mistakenly copied into the e-mail correspondence between his wife and an amorous plumber. Agatha knew it wasn’t from a plumber of course, the Mercedes was built for safety, and its on-board had automatically intercepted Spads’ call and put it on speakerphone, just as the legislation required from new models. As far as comfort was concerned, occupying the rear of the car was closer to being driven around in your living room. It certainly left Vincent’s last century 2CV in the shade.

‘Just when we’re getting a handle on this case, it keeps on getting weirder. Now Saucy Simon’s own dosh is being used to pay for the hitmen who did him in? ’

Mrs Witchley shrugged. ‘It’s certainly unorthodox. Most billionaires believe their money should be working for them while they’re asleep, not be used to put them to sleep, permanently.’

‘If we hadn’t had Saucy Simon’s corpse DNA matched, I’d be half-way to believing this whole murder was faked and we could look forward to finding him on a beach somewhere, sitting next door to Elvis and sipping cocktails in the sun.’

Mrs Witchley glanced across to Elvis Presley, his spectral form occupying the voluminous seat beside hers, humming the lyrics from Hound Dog with his head bobbing and his knees swaying where he sat. ‘I think we can be certain he’s not on a beach lounger with Elvis.’

‘Ah-hoh-hoh,’ agreed the ghost, unheard by both Doyle and Helen. This was Elvis in his prime, strutting in a high-collared white jacket with an eagle motif, not the obese drug-addled dead-man-walking at the end of his career. Agatha’s ghosts always seemed to appear as they still viewed themselves. Rarely old and decrepit, as they usually were in their autumn years. I know how they feel.

Helen’s eyes met Mrs Witchley’s in the rear-view mirror, shifting her attention from the road for a second. Unlike the majority of other drivers on the motorway, she was hands on the wheel with autodrive disengaged, happily ignoring the flashing car insurance warnings being streamed to her dashboard. ‘Someone, somewhere, is extracting the urine with this one. Using the victim’s own money to pay for his assassination.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Mrs Witchley, tapping her umbrella on the floor-well of the car in time to the dead singer’s humming. ‘The question is, was that the killer’s signature, a theatrical flourish, or something else? I could easily arrange for Spads to hack into your account, Helen, and transfer your money to a hitman to eliminate you. I might experience a little frisson of irony in turning your own wealth against you.’

‘Unlike Werks,’ said Helen, ‘I’d notice the hole in my bank balance.’

‘You check your statement every month? Quite wise, young lady. I do so myself, religiously.’ Mrs Witchley used the spreadsheet app on her phone to examine Spads’ pilfered bank account details, scrolling through the data.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.