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
He pulled a chair from the wall and gestured, then took a flask from the canvas messenger bag slung over the back of the other chair and poured coffee into two mugs. He sat next to Jude, so close in the small space that she could feel the heat of him.
“No milk or sugar, I’m afraid. Or biscuits.”
“That’s fine,” said Jude.
“You can share my lunch, if you want.”
It was only half past eleven, but he took a package wrapped in wax paper from his bag and carefully unwrapped it. It was the size of a paperback, and thick: two grainy pieces of bread from which layers of filling spilled out. Jude could identify beetroot, broccoli, orange wedges of cheese, and something that looked like mustard.
“Leftovers from our fridge,” said Vin, carefully lifting the sandwich in both hands and taking a vast bite out of it. “Sure you don’t want any?” he asked through a mouthful. His jaws worked vigorously.
“Sure,” said Jude, though watching him sink his teeth into the bread she suddenly felt ravenous.
He was only wearing a T-shirt over his jeans. A tattoo rippled on his upper arm as he lifted his mug and took a huge swallow. She lifted her own mug, which had a reindeer on it and a chip at its rim. The coffee was just about warm, but good and strong.
“There’s something I should tell you. I thought it would be better in person.”
“Tell me then.” He smiled and then pushed more of his sandwich into his smiling mouth.
“As you know, I’m—”
He interrupted her.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re the executor. You shouldn’t be too serious about it, Jude. Liam probably named you as a joke.”
“I know. There’s a really large part of me that just wants to let it all alone.”
“But?”
“There’s another, small part of me that feels it’s become a kind of responsibility. Like I owe it to him.”
“All right,” said Vin. “So what was it you needed to tell me in person?”
“I showed some of his financial papers, bills, to my brother. He’s an accountant. He was . . .” She paused, trying to find a kind way of putting it. “A bit taken aback. Your company. It’s not looking good. To say the least.”
Vin held up his broad, calloused hand.
“I really do not need to know that.”
“I think you probably do need to know it. Apparently you’re insolvent.”
He made a snorting sound in the back of his throat. Was he finding this funny?
“I mean it. I looked it up. You’re trading illegally, and that means that you can’t—”