Clean Break Read Online Free PDF Page A

desk. “You like it so much, you live with it,” I said, stomping back to my office. If she was going to treat me like one of her teenage kids, I might as well
enjoy the tantrum. I pulled the brownish remains of the asparagus fern out of the bin and defiantly dumped it on the windowsill.
    Before I could do anything more, my phone rang. “What now?” I barked at Shelley.
    â€œCall for you. A gentleman who refuses to give his name.”
    â€œDid you tell him we don’t do matrimonials?”
    â€œOf course I did. I’m not the one who’s premenstrual.”
    I bit back a snarl as Shelley put the call through. “Kate Brannigan,” I said. “How can I help you?”
    â€œI need your help, Ms. Brannigan. It’s an extremely confidential matter. Brian Chalmers from PharmAce recommended you.”
    â€œWe’re noted for our client confidentiality,” I reeled off. “As you doubtless know if you’ve spoken to Brian. But I do need to know who I’m talking to.”
    There was a moment’s hesitation, long enough for me to hear sufficient background noise to realize my caller was speaking from a bar. “My name’s Trevor Kerr. I think the company I run is being blackmailed, and I need to talk to you about it.”
    â€œFine,” I said. “Why don’t I come round to your office this afternoon and have a chat about it?”
    â€œChrist, no,” Kerr said, clearly alarmed. “The last thing I want is for the blackmailers to find out I’m talking to a private detective.”
    One of the ones that watches too many movies. That was all I needed to make my day. “No problem. You come to me.”
    â€œI don’t think that’s a good idea. You see, I think they’re watching me.”
    Just when you thought it was safe to pick up the phone … “I know how disturbing threats can be when you’re not accustomed to being on the receiving end,” I tried. “Perhaps we could meet on neutral ground. Say in the lounge of the Midland?”
    The reassuring tone hadn’t worked. “No,” Kerr said urgently. “Not in public. It’s got to look completely normal. Have you got a boyfriend, Ms. Brannigan?”
    Â 
    I should have put the phone down then and there, I realized four hours later as I tried to explain to Richard that a crumpled cream linen suit might be fine for going on the razz with Mick Hucknall,
but there was no way it would help him to pass as a member of the Round Table. “Bloody hell, Brannigan,” he grumbled. “I’m old enough to dress myself.”
    I ignored him and raked through his wardrobe, coming up with a fairly sober double-breasted Italian suit in dark navy. “This is more like it,” I said.
    Richard scowled. “I only wear that to funerals.”
    I threw it on the bed. “Not true. You wore it to your cousin’s wedding.”
    â€œYou forgotten her husband already? Anyway, I don’t see why you’re making me get dressed up like a tailor’s dummy. After the last time I helped you out, you swore you’d never let me near your work again,” he whinged as he shrugged out of the linen jacket.
    â€œBelieve me, if Bill wasn’t out of the country, I wouldn’t be asking you,” I said grimly. “Besides, not even you can turn a Round Table treasure hunt and potluck supper into a life-threatening situation.”
    Richard froze. “That’s a bit below the belt, Brannigan,” he said bitterly.
    â€œYeah, well, I’m going next door to find something suitably naff in my own wardrobe. Come through when you’re ready.”
    I walked down Richard’s hall and cut through his living room to the conservatory. Back in my own house, I allowed myself a few moments of deep breathing to regain my equilibrium. A few months before, I had enlisted Richard’s help in what should have been a