Back Deadline for Murder Save as PDF
Chapters (33)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. PROLOGUE
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. EPILOGUE
  26. About the Author
  27. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  28. Bywater Books
  29. Bywater Books
  30. Bywater Books
  31. Bywater Books
  32. Bywater Books
  33. Bywater Books

Lindsay leapt for the door and opened it to reveal Claire and Cordelia. “Come in, come in,” Lindsay invited them, ushering them into the lounge. They both looked striking. Lindsay felt like a scruff in her jeans and Levi shirt and wished she’d had the sense to raid Sophie’s wardrobe again.

“This all looks very organized,” Claire commented coolly as Lindsay poured Scotch and water for her and Cordelia. “Don’t you think you should tell me exactly what is going on? After all, I am footing the bill.”

Lindsay bit back the angry retort that sprang to mind and smiled. “The element of surprise is vital,” she said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to trust me. But I think I can promise you that by the end of the evening, we’ll have a much clearer idea of who killed Alison Maxwell, and why.”

“Very mysterious,” Cordelia said sarcastically. “You always did have a penchant for the dramatic, Lindsay. Let’s just hope you don’t pull your usual trick of accusing the wrong person.”

Lindsay flushed. Cordelia’s raking up of the murder case that had brought them together was deeply unsettling. Lindsay fought to control herself and said, “Only once, Cordelia, only once. And I didn’t actually accuse the wrong person over the Derbyshire House murder. I can’t help it if people take my questions the wrong way.”

“Well, let’s hope you get it right this time,” Cordelia retorted.

The conversation was cut short by the sound of the doorbell. Lindsay returned moments later with Jim Carstairs, Jackie’s lawyer. His only concession to being out of working hours was to swap his pinstripe suit for a sports jacket and cavalry twill trousers. He looked uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed.

“Thanks for coming on a Sunday evening, Jim,” Claire greeted him.

“This is all very irregular,” he complained. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Claire.”

“Me? I’m just a spectator like you, Jim. This is Lindsay’s show. And we’re all waiting with bated breath to see what she has for us.” There was an edge of sarcasm in Claire’s voice that grated on Lindsay, making her all the more determined to prove herself.