A Taste for Malice Read Online Free PDF

Gibson misses nothing.
    ‘How do you aim to get that power back?’
    Another good question. Often people who have been damaged in hugely stressful situations try to regain some of the lost power by turning on people weaker than themselves. By asking this question she is trying to ascertain if I am a further risk to my employers.
    ‘I have no interest in power, Ms Gibson. I just want to do my job and keep the streets safe for ordinary folk like you.’
    She doesn’t rise to the bait.
    ‘You seem well balanced after everything you’ve been through … what did you do to occupy your time while you were convalescing?’
    ‘Went for long walks. Watched old movies, comedies mostly. There’s nothing to beat a laugh.’ Something Alessandra said earlier tugs at my mind. Something to do with black and white movies.
    ‘Do you sleep well?’
    ‘Like a baby,’ I lie.
    She lifts her left arm up and turns her wrist so she can look at her watch. It’s a chunky silver piece that would look better on me. Its overtly masculine look contrasts perfectly with her slim wrists.
    ‘We have five minutes left. Is there anything you would have preferred we talked about for the time remaining?’
    ‘Your marital status?’ I look for a ring. Nothing there.
    ‘Unavailable.’
    ‘If I smile like this?’ I give her a three-quarters view of my face, ‘People tell me this is my best side.’
    ‘Four minutes left,’ a smile tugs at her mouth.
    ‘If someone changes their name, what does that say about them?’ I ask.
    ‘That depends. If that someone is you I might have an opinion.’
    ‘Let’s say it is.’
    She looks at her watch.
    ‘Oh go on. Just this wee crumb of a question?’ I smile in a way that is meant to be part flirtatious, but probably ends up with me just looking like a simpleton.
    ‘Depends on the context. I’m guessing this is not you, but a criminal case.’ She pauses. ‘I thought you were only taking care of administrative tasks for now.’
    Warning bell. ‘I am. This is actually…’ I pretend to act like a daft laddie, ‘…from a black and white movie.’
    ‘What’s it called, I might have seen it.’
    ‘Eeesh, you’re asking me the name of a movie, I can barely remember what I had for breakfast.’ I raise my eyebrows and this time I’m sure I look like I am in the advanced stages of Alzheimers. ‘So what’s your professional opinion, ’cos I’m convinced the scriptwriters on this one got it all wrong.’
    ‘Well, without knowing too much about the plot line,’ she looks at me with an expression that says she is humouring me, ‘It could be any number of things… like a form of fan worship. Or your parents named you Primrose and you turn out to be a six-foot, eighteen-stone rugby player. Or it could mean you have some sort of delusion. Or it could simply mean you have something to hide.’

Chapter 4
    ‘And this is… was the master bedroom,’ Jim stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared out of the window, not wishing to observe Angela’s reaction. ‘I’ve set up my stuff in the spare room downstairs.’ Her answering smile was stiff, but grateful.
    ‘Right,’ she said quietly. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, her top lip pulled tight between her teeth: a mannerism Jim used to love. It occurred to him that her mind may have misplaced the song sheet, but her body still remembered its tune. Its little foibles were obviously noted so deeply that it would take more than a car crash to erase them.
    ‘Come in, come in,’ Jim motioned her into the room from the hall.
    ‘This is the biggest bed ever. I can do big frog jumps on it.’ Ben’s chatter did little to ease the awkwardness between them.
    ‘Shall we … do you fancy a wee cuppa?’ Jim walked past Angela in the small space between the foot of the bed and the wall while doing his utmost not to touch any part of her with any part of him.
    ‘Yes. That would be nice. Thank you.’
    ‘If you’re sure.’
    ‘Yes.