‘You cunt,’ she seethed.

‘That’s the spirit. Now you just sit there and I’ll be back later and maybe you can be a bit more helpful, how about that?’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I certainly will,’ Priest said brightly, winking at her as he left the room.

Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Priest skipped up the steps to the office two at a time clutching the papers and the phone Mims had given him. It was half past seven and the Nook was quiet, although the traffic on the Strand was already starting to back up as people made their way to work. It wouldn’t be long before the thoroughfare on which Priest & Co.’s office stood was filled with bankers and office workers carrying paper coffee cups and briefcases. Dark clouds rolled overhead threatening rain, the wind whipped up leaves and sent them pirouetting across the street. The temperature had dropped again and in the dull light of morning Priest reached an inescapable conclusion: winter was approaching.

Covent Garden’s East Colonnade Market was usually a riot of colour and charm, from the lush aroma of its handmade soaps to the troves of unusual jewellery and homeware. Priest often thought that the cacophony of street performers, shoppers and musicians had a poetry of its own. The market had still been getting ready to open when Priest had ventured through, like an orchestra tuning up, but fortunately the Middle Eastern man who ran the phone stall was already vending and, although he cast Priest a doubtful look, he had amongst his stash of old wires and cables a charger for a 2003 Nokia 5100.

The office was empty but that was just as well; Priest hadn’t had a shower in two days or shaved in three. He probably looked and smelt like a career vagrant. He was blessed with thick, silken, mousy brown hair that was still without a single streak of grey, but even this was starting to feel oily as he ran his hands through it and across his face in an attempt to wipe away the lassitude. He’d give it a few hours and then slump back home, once he was sure that Elinor would have worked out that all she needed to do was run the cuffs through the circular iron bars of the bedhead like a buzz wire until she was at the far end. Then she could just reach in to the bedside drawer and find the key.

He wondered how long it would take her to work it out. Ten minutes? Less? She’d probably then proceed to trash his house but that was fine. She’d make a mistake sooner or later, he was sure of it, and her temper was the most likely trigger.