Chapters (78)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Remarkable Praise for Nicci French
- Also by Nicci French
- About the Publisher
“The police have already been and talked to me.” He ran a finger round the inside of his collar. “As a formality.”
“I was hoping to have a quick word as well.”
Jude took a hopeful step toward the front door. The dog barked louder, its compact body quivering.
He looked her up and down.
“My son will be home from school in half an hour.”
“I won’t be that long.”
Stepping back, he beckoned her inside.
“Perhaps you can take off your shoes,” he said. “The cleaner’s just been.”
Jude hung her wet coat on a hook, took off her muddy boots.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” he said. “And I don’t know what you’ve been told, but whatever it is, I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I’m just doing my legal duty,” Jude said. “As Mr. Birch’s executor, I need to recover debts owed to him before his estate can be settled.”
She didn’t know if she was using the correct terms, so in a rush she made herself clear.
“Even though he’s dead, you still have to pay what you owe.”
Anthony Leary folded his arms and looked at her. “No way.”
“It’s the law.”
“Come with me,” he said, and stalked down the hall, followed by Jude, sliding on the polished wood in her socks, the dog ominously at her heels.
He flung the door open into the kitchen and beckoned her in.
“This is what they did.”
Jude looked around the room at the wooden cabinets, the thick wooden shelves above them, the granite surfaces near the sink, the large window that looked out onto a neat bare garden and, beyond that, plowed fields.
“It looks lovely.”
“It’s not what we asked for. I can show you what we asked for. What we agreed. We asked for stainless steel and he gave us this.” He rapped on the granite surface. “Which cost an arm and a leg. We wanted glass-fronted units and he just ignored us, so when we got back from holiday—which we’d taken in order to get away from the incessant banging—we found these.” He pointed with a long, accusing finger at the cabinets. “We wanted a double-sink but he found us something in the salvage place down the road that he thought looked better.”
“It does look nice,” said Jude, glancing at the large porcelain sink.
Anthony Leary took a step toward her. He smelled strange; it reminded her of something and she couldn’t think what.
“It was over-budget and over-schedule and it wasn’t what we asked for.”
“I can see—”
But he was in full flow now.
“And they were a bloody pain to have around. Liam burned a cigarette mark into the table and when I complained, he said it was a horrible table anyway and it looked better with a few scars. Like it was a joke.”