Deadline for Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

couple. She had never seen the slender blonde before. But the woman sitting opposite her was as familiar to Lindsay as her own face in the mirror. She felt her stomach lurch and fought the desperate urge to be sick. Without even realising she was doing it, she shrugged off Sophie's restraining arm and purposefully crossed the room.
    Neither of the two women registered her presence till she was only feet from their table. Even then, it was the blonde who looked up first. When she saw Lindsay, a series of reactions flashed across her face in a moment. Curiosity was overtaken by bewilderment, bewilderment by shock, and shock by a stringe mixture of relief and amusement. Her companion was slower to realise they had company, since Lindsay had approached from behind her. She turned in her chair and her eyes widened. "Lindsay!" she gasped, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. She gave a nervous half-smile, apparently incapable of further speech.
    "Hello, Cordelia. Fancy meeting you here. That explains why I couldn't find you in London," Lindsay said with ice in her voice.
    The blonde woman got to her feet and extended a slim hand. "Hello, Lindsay. We've never met before, but I've heard a lot about you..."
    "I bet you have," Lindsay interrupted savagely, ignoring the outstretched hand.
    Undaunted, the other continued. "I'm Claire Ogilvie. Jackie--Jackie Mitchell, that is--told me a lot about you. That's how I came to meet Cordelia."
    "How fascinating," Lindsay said with heavy sarcasm, mentally slotting Claire into place. Jackie's girlfriend, the lawyer. Portia with a Porsche. Cordelia had obviously had her fill of working-class heroes and reverted to type, Lindsay thought furiously. In a cold voice she said, "Well, don't let us interrupt your intimate little tete-a-tete. Come on, Sophie," she added, turning away. "We'll find somewhere more congenial to eat."
    "No, wait," said Cordelia, finally finding her tongue. "Don't go, Lindsay."
    "Why not? You've obviously not been counting the minutes till I got back, have you?"
    "I think you're being a little unfair, Lindsay," Claire said. "Why don't you calm down and sit down, and we can discuss this like adults?"
    "Discuss what?" Lindsay demanded, her voice rising. "Discuss your relationship with the woman I have just discovered is my ex-lover?"
    "Lindsay," Sophie said in the soothing but firm voice she'd developed years ago to deal with drunks in casualty. "Cool it. Either let's go now or else sit down and have a drink."
    Lindsay, struggling with a mixture of anger, disappointment and hurt, abruptly sat down, followed by the other three.
    "When did you get back? And where have you been?" Cordelia asked. Even to herself, her questions sounded empty and irrelevant. But she didn't know what else to say. Seeing Lindsay again so unexpectedly had left her floundering in a welter of emotions that she could neither separate nor identify.
    "I got back a week ago," Lindsay replied in weary tones. "I tried to phone a couple of times en route , but I kept getting the answering machine, and it didn't seem the appropriate way to break the silence. When I got to London, I went straight to the house, but you weren't there. I rang your mother, but she didn't seem to know where you were. Your agent said you'd gone away for a couple of weeks, she wasn't sure where either, so rather than hang about in London on the off-chance that you'd be back, I drove up to Yorkshire, gave Deborah her van back and collected my MG. Then I went to see my parents and came back to Glasgow. I've been in Italy. By myself, which is more than I can say for you," she added bitterly.
    "My God, you've got a nerve," Cordelia said. "You vanish off the face of the earth for nine bloody months, and you expect to come home like the prodigal daughter and find everything exactly the way it was?"
    "Obviously I was wrong, wasn't I? You knew exactly why I went to ground. For God's sake, I left a letter explaining what the hell was