Double Jeopardy Read Online Free PDF Page A

affected these days. Her hair was very black, her height was about five foot six and he calculated she would turn the scales at around nine stone. She was also very attractive and wore a flowered blouse and a pastel-coloured skirt which revealed shapely legs.
    'Satisfied?' she demanded in a waspish tone.
    'You can't be too careful,' he told her and walked out of the tiny hall into a living-room whose windows overlooked the garden inside Centralhof. His manner was off-hand and he inserted a cigarette and lit it without asking her permission.
    'Yes, you may smoke,' she told him.
    'Good. It helps my concentration…'
    He looked round the room which was filled with heavy leather arm-chairs and sofas and the usual weighty sideboard. The German Swiss went in for solid furniture which was probably a reflection of their sturdy character. He thought he knew what Hofer was thinking. Hell, do I have to work with this bastard?
    'I'm just making some coffee,' she said in a more friendly voice.
    'That would be nice…'
    He went towards the window and changed direction as she vanished through a swing-door into a kitchen. From a quick glimpse it looked expensively equipped. Quietly he turned the handle of a closed door and eased it open, peering inside.
    The bedroom. Large double bed. Large dressing-table with a few cosmetic articles neatly arranged. A pair of large double doors which presumably led to a large built-in wardrobe or dressing room. Everything spotless. He left the door half-open.
    She had the percolator bubbling away when he walked uninvited into the kitchen. On a wing counter there were plates of half-eaten food, an unwashed glass, unwashed cutlery and a pair of scissors with a piece of sticking-plaster attached to one of the blades. She swung round, her mouth tight.
    'Make yourself at home, Martel…'
    'I always do…' He smiled briefly, the cigarette-holder still clenched between his teeth. 'Did Warner sleep here often?'
    It threw her. She almost caught the percolator with her hand and knocked the whole thing over. He waited, watching her, smoking his cigarette. She unplugged the percolator, which had stopped bubbling, went to a wall-cupboard and opened it.
    'Spring-cleaning – that's when I change things around to stop life getting boring…'
    She took coffee-cups from another cupboard next to the one she had first opened and Martel was relieved to see they also were large. He drank coffee by the gallon. He said no cream and she poured two cups of black coffee, put them on saucers and looked at him.
    'You're in my way…'
    'Allow me…'
    He picked up both cups and carried them into the living- room where he placed them on mats on a low table. She followed him, talking as she came through the swing-door.
    'You're agile – I can't get through that swing-door with two cups. I have to take them one at a…'
    He looked up as she stopped in mid-sentence. She was staring through her dark glasses at the half-opened bedroom door. It was impossible to see the expression in her eyes but her mouth compressed into a bleak gash.
    'You've been in the bedroom…
    'I like to be sure I really am alone with someone…' 'You've got a bloody nerve…'
    She started towards the bedroom but he reached forward, caught her arm and sat her down on the sofa beside him. Still gripping her arm with one hand he reached up towards the outsized tinted glasses. She clawed her other hand and struck at his face with talon-like nails. He had to move fast to grab her wrist to protect himself: she had moved like a whip-lash.
    'Martel, I've had you in a big way,' she hissed through perfectly formed teeth. 'If we are going to work together we have a few things to get straightened out…'
    'You never answered my question about you and Warner…'
    He had released her and picked up his cup of coffee, sipping at it while he watched her. She got herself under control very quickly, picking up her own cup before she replied.
    'That's one of the things. First, it's none