A Quiet Kill Read Online Free PDF Page B

would start with the fresh lobster and house mayonnaise. The small cadre of kitchen staff kept their heads down and got on with their work. They were much more frightened of Carillo than of any unknown murderer.
    Sharon Carruthers, wife of the Canadian High Commissioner to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, settled into her seat across from Hay and Forsyth. She leaned back comfortably into the chair, her elbows on the armrests, tilted her head, and lightly stroked the right side of her face. She smiled faintly at the investigators, smoothing her fitted skirt. She had no reason to be nervous. This was, after all, her house.
    What a beautiful woman , thought Stephen Hay.
    What a piece of kit , thought Liz Forsyth.
    â€œWell, gentlemen,” began Sharon Carruthers with a nod to Hay and Carpenter, “and lady.” Liz managed a thin smile. The jet lag was rendering this expensively attired woman all the more irksome. “It appears that my husband and I were away during a most exciting time. We were in Edinburgh, you see, supposedly for a week’s vacation. It was well deserved, I can tell you . You wouldn’t believe the pace that Wesley and I maintain to get through all the work here at the post. And then there’s the social side—positively killing . But we enjoy it, of course. Would you care for a coffee?”
    â€œEr, no, thank you,” said Hay, mildly confused. It was usually his side of the table that asked that question. “How well did you know the deceased?”
    â€œWell enough.”
    Hay raised a quizzical brow.
    Mrs. Carruthers continued, “Well, Natalie came here shortly after Wesley and I arrived. She was, I suppose, a good enough officer. The commercial delegations seemed to like her.”
    â€œMrs. Carruthers,” said Liz, “can you tell us a bit about Natalie’s social life? Friends, hobbies, that sort of thing?”
    Sharon Carruthers smiled gently to herself. “Oh, that,” she said. “Well, it seems she liked horses. Then again, they say so did Catherine the Great.”
    There was an uncomfortable silence. Liz watched Mrs. Carruthers carefully. “And what else?”
    â€œWell, my dear,” said Mrs. Carruthers, “you will find out sooner or later, won’t you? She was something of a—well, there’s no polite way of putting this—a, well, something of a—slut.” Mrs. Carruthers looked downward as she said the last. Hay and Forsyth exchanged a look. They hadn’t heard this before.
    â€œOh yes,” continued Sharon Carruthers, leaning forward, elbows on the table. Her large green eyes were fixed on Hay, although Liz had put the question. “Yes, indeed. The number of stories I’ve heard about her . Would make your hair curl, my dear. Thoroughly unreliable.”
    Then what , thought Liz Forsyth, was she doing in a highly sensitive job in the High Commission? This makes no sense.
    The interview continued for a time, and at last Hay said, “We would like to see the High Commissioner first thing this afternoon, please, if you would be so kind as to relay the message.”
    â€œCertainly. But I don’t know what he can tell you that he hasn’t already told Mr. Middleton.”
    Hay and Forsyth looked at each other in surprise. “Middleton?” asked Hay. “Gerry Middleton? He has seen the High Commissioner?”
    â€œYes, of course,” answered Sharon Carruthers, straightening her tailored pinstriped jacket as she prepared to go. “They were together before I came across. I assumed that since he was with Foreign Affairs security he’d been detailed to question Wesley. Oh well, it will all come out in the wash no doubt. It’s been a pleasure.” With that and a toss of gleaming black hair she was gone.
    Hay dismissed Carpenter. He sat quietly for a moment, staring down at the table and forgetting all about diplomacy and the rattling