THE VITAL MINUTE an utterly gripping crime mystery thriller full of twists by Ormerod Roger

Author:Ormerod, Roger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books Murder Mystery Crime Fiction
Published: 2023-08-27T00:00:00+00:00

10

When I ran up to her flat she was standing in the open doorway. ‘Well?’ Her voice was all agony, my expression probably warning her.

‘My keys have gone.’

‘Anything important?’

Mrs Zalusky’s front door, the key to my house in Acocks Green, the keys to the Cortina—the garage had the ones to the Mini—and the really important ones. ‘The keys to the office and my cabinets.’

‘Is that all you can worry about?’

‘I do, my pet, and I’ve got to go. You see that, don’t you?’

She reached out and touched my cheek. ‘Hurry, then. Phone and let me know.’

I drove like a mad thing the nearest way to the office, past Crayshaw Brothers, taking Lennie Trent’s fatal route over the little bridge, then past the gates, and to the town.

There were a few cars parked up and down the quiet side-turning, along which we had our office. They told me nothing. I parked in front. The light in my office window told me everything, though. How long had it been on? Why was there not a police car there? I ran up the first five steps to the front door, then abruptly steadied myself with a hand on the railings. It was just possible that Harkness had come in to do a little overtime. I took it, then, more sedately. It would not do to appear in a panic.

The front door creaked open at my touch. Three seconds later the light in my office went off.

He had the advantage. I would stand out against the soft light in the street, but he came from black darkness, came at a run.

His shadow was on me before I could take a breath, trampling over me. There was a sharp pain on my cheek, and suddenly I was fighting for breath from a pain in my ribs. Instinctively, I reached sideways and grabbed one of the railings, so that instead of falling backwards down the steps I was slammed sideways, back into the railings, and agony shot up my spine. I think I shouted out. He was past me. His shape took the steps in one bound, then he was away up the street, and through my gasping, clawing fight for breath I heard a car start a hundred yards away.

Down on my knees, I tried to remember how I could get to a phone, and it seemed minutes before I worked out that there was one on my desk. I got myself into the hall and as far as my light switch, and leaned in the doorway.

Files were strewn all over the floor, the cabinet drawers pulled out and ransacked. My brief-case had simply been upended and poured onto my desk. The phone was untouched. I groped for it, collapsed in my chair, and dialled the police. Then I sat, and wondered how to reach Harkness. His private number would be noted somewhere, for emergencies. Then I remembered I had a directory in a desk drawer, and there he was under H. It seemed a miracle.

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