A Perfect Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

then it would be just like Rowe to embellish his educational achievements. ‘No. We were at Exeter actually.’
    She gave Wesley a wary look, as though she suspected him of lying. ‘Ian has a doctorate from Oxford. He told me. He worked
     as Sir Martin Crace’s assistant for a while and he is taking time off to travel.’
    Wesley was tempted to enlighten her but he had second thoughts. Who was to say that Rowe hadn’t made a fresh start after dropping
     out of Exeter? Who was to say he wasn’t telling the truth? Either that or Ian Rowe was a boastful fantasist, which was probably
     more likely. However, the mention of Sir Martin Crace puzzled him. Crace was high profile, an entrepreneur who’d made his
     millions in the pharmaceutical industry then turned philanthropist; a regular guest at 10 Downing Street and Buckingham Palace
     and one of the nation’s Great and Good. A connection like that could easily be disproved. But, in Wesley’s experience, that
     sort of thing never bothered fantasists.
    ‘We arranged to meet this morning and he didn’t turn up.’
    The young waitress shrugged. It really wasn’t her problem.
    ‘Do you know where he lives?’ Wesley said automatically, suddenly aware that he was slipping into policeman mode. And one
     glance at Pam sitting beside him absentmindedly excavating the sugar bowl told him he had to stop.
    ‘He and two of the waiters share a house in the Ville Basse.’
    ‘Are the others here now? Can I speak to them?’ He glanced at Pam again and knew he’d just said the wrong thing. He was on
     holiday. The last thing he needed was to make it a holiday of the busman’s kind. Besides, they only had one day left.
    ‘They are in tonight. You come back tonight.’
    ‘Can you give me his address?’
    She hesitated for a moment then scribbled an address on one of the restaurant’s cards. ‘If you see him you tell him that chef
     is angry with him. OK?’
    ‘I’ll tell him,’ Wesley said with a reassuring smile. She was about to go when another question came into his head. ‘Has he
     ever mentioned a girl called Nadia?’
    The waitress shook her head and walked away quickly, as though the subject of Rowe was beginning to bore her.
    Wesley gave Pam an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry about that.’
    She pouted, putting on the pretence of anger. ‘I should think so too. So Ian Rowe’s also been putting it about that he’s got
     a doctorate from Oxford?’
    ‘When he was thrown out of Exeter for failing his exams.’
    ‘The man’s a bloody liar.’
    ‘I reckon he always was a bit of a fantasist, even when we knew him. And he’s claiming he used to be Sir Martin Crace’s assistant.’
    Pam snorted. ‘How likely is that? Like you say, he’s a fantasist.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Mind you, it doesn’t mean he
     didn’t have some sort of menial post in Crace’s organisation. Washing up in his kitchens or general dogsbody.’
    Wesley looked at Pam in admiration. It was obvious when you thought about it. The best lies have a kernel of truth in them.
     ‘At least we’ve got Rowe’s address.’
    ‘And you want to pay him a call?’ she said. It was hard to read the expression on her face – to know whether she approved
     or disapproved of this new development.
    She fell silent for a few seconds then she looked him in the eye. ‘Well, to tell you the truth, I’m a bit intrigued myself.’
    After leaving a generous tip, Wesley took hold of Pam’s hand and they walked out of the restaurant. As they reached the door,
     he turned and saw that the waitress was watching them leave, a worried look on her face.
    Donna Grogen worked on the reception desk in the offices of Tradford Developments – or in Admin, as her mother put it proudly.
     She commuted to Morbay each day and her boss, Mr Bright, thought very highly of her. There was no reason in the world that
     she should disappear without telling anyone.
    Donna’s mother, Carla, was a large woman with bottle blonde