Evil in Return Read Online Free PDF Page B

about it. I can’t even remember what colour it was. Anyway, we had a brief chat. You know . . . about the weather and stuff. They say the hot spell’s going to break in a day or so, although I hope they’re wrong.’
    ‘Do you remember anything else?’
    She frowned. ‘Well, his hair was wet, so he must have just had a shower. And he’d shaved. I noticed because he often didn’t bother for days.’
    ‘Do you remember what he was wearing?’
    She thought for a moment, then shook her head. ‘Just that he looked nice. And smelt nice. Don’t know if it was soap or aftershave, but he’d made an effort for a change. He usually looked pretty grungy.’
    ‘Have you ever seen him with anyone?’
    ‘He was with some bloke the day before yesterday.’
    ‘What time?’
    ‘Early evening. Half-six, maybe. I was going out and they were sitting on the little deck of Sally’s boat – Joe’s boat, I should say – having a drink.’
    ‘What did the man look like?’
    ‘About Joe’s age, I suppose. Nice-looking fellow actually, with lovely dark red hair. Real auburn, if you know what I mean.’
    ‘What sort of height?’
    ‘Couldn’t tell, as he was sitting down, but he looked lean and fit and he had nice broad shoulders.’
    ‘Have you ever seen him before?’
    ‘Only once. In the Bargeman’s Rest a couple of weeks ago.’
    ‘Is that a pub?’
    She nodded. ‘Just along the canal, heading west. It overlooks the water and it’s where we all go when the weather’s nice. Joe and the red-haired fellow were having a drink and a smoke. I was with a friend of mine and they seemed quite engrossed over something, so I didn’t stop to say hello.’
    Tartaglia made a note to check the pub. ‘You don’t know the man’s name?’
    ‘No, but I’d say they knew each other quite well.’
    ‘Why’s that?’
    ‘Body language. You can tell. They were relaxed together and they were having a really good old chinwag.’
    ‘You only saw the man twice.’
    She shrugged. ‘Call me nosy, but I couldn’t help being curious. Joe never talked about his friends, you see, apart from Sally. It was as if the subject was off limits, which of course made me curious. Maybe you should ask Sally if she knows this bloke. Anyway, she was the one told me to keep an eye on Joe, said that he’d suffered a bit from depression in the past. He hadn’t lived in London for ages and it can be tough if you don’t know anybody, particularly if you spend all day on your own wrapped up in some fantasy world in your head. So I had him over for the odd drink, just to get him out off the boat. I even cooked him supper one evening. He brought a decent bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers. He wasn’t a cheapskate.’
    ‘What did you talk about?’ he asked, still wondering about the nature of her relationship with Logan.
    ‘This and that, nothing special, really . . . about the book, of course, and all the fuss there’s been. I think he really hated all the attention. His publisher was trying to get him to do a lot of promotional stuff but he didn’t want to do it. They couldn’t make him, could they, but they were putting a lot of pressure on him. I asked him what he was going to do next and he said he was working on another story but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it. I think he may have had writer’s block or something. Writing a bestseller must be pretty paralysing, don’t you think? I mean, what do you do for an encore?’
    ‘Did he ever mention his family?’
    ‘No. No, he didn’t. He didn’t volunteer and I didn’t want to pry. He really wasn’t happy talking about himself and he didn’t much like living here, I can tell you.’
    ‘Why’s that?’
    ‘Well, it’s a bit like living in a goldfish bowl, isn’t it?’ She gestured towards a window, which gave a clear view of another boat moored opposite on the far side of the canal as well as the towpath, public pavement and road beyond. ‘We’re all on top of one another,