Glass Houses Read Online Free PDF Page B

then a white shirt collar over which thin flesh waggled like the pouch beneath a pelican’s bill.
    Olivia extracted her fingernail without disaster and clamped her hand over her mouth. Scoo ting, she shrank into a dark corn er. One of the long macs on the hall stand hung near enough for her to crouch behind it.
    A familiar sharp clatter meant Olivia's visitor had opened the letterbox from his side.
    Olivia’s eyes felt dry, and her throat hurt. Please let him give up and go away. The l ining in the old mackintosh was to rn behind one sagging pocket. She shifted and discovered her second serviceable peephole of the day.
    The man rattled the door knocker again. Rude fellow. And he did so while he pressed his face to the open letterbox and peered in. He wore his dark glasses with the small, round lenses. When he moved, evidently to get a different view into the hall, his nose came into view, a bumpy, faintly purple nose like that of the vicar of St. Paul’s, where Mummy went to church.
    This wasn’t the vicar of St. Paul’s. Unfortunately.
    “ Miss FitzDurham? Come on, love. Don’t keep me hangin’ about.”
    Well, that definitely wasn’t the same voice as the one on the phone. Olivia breathed deeply but felt no relief.
    “Let me in where we can talk quiet-like.”
    She might be a bit dotty on occasion, but she wasn’t a fool, and she wasn’t letting him in.
    “If you had my boss, you’d help me out here, Miss Fitz Durham. You have no idea what I go through.”
    The creature disgusted Olivia. Did he honestly think she wouldn’t recognize him?
    “Well, I can see I’m going to have to impress you. Here, take a gander at this. Go on, it’ll show you I keep my word— and that I’m on the up-and-up.” He pushed something through the slot, something that fell to the shining wooden floor with a solid thunk. Olivia was almost certain she heard the man mutter, “Blimey,” but couldn’t be completely sure.
    Olivia positioned herself to look downward. The sun sent a shaft past fingers that still intruded into Number 2A. An envelope with banknotes spilling out basked in the spotlight. Well, this was definitely the same person as the one who rang her, but he’d forgotten his flannel this time. She wondered if his pockets still housed rats or whatever.
    All was silent for too long. Olivia heard her own pulse against her eardrums. She ached from holding still.
    At last he said, “Look, unless you can go invisible, you’re in there. I know you are, see. Come on, let me get on with my business, there’s a good girl.”
    His fingernails were well manicured, and he wore a diamond ring on the small finger.
    “ You wouldn’t keep the money and not give me the photos, now, would you?”
    She jolly well would not.
    “The negatives are all I need if you don’t want to open the door. Put them out the letterbox and I’m gone. London Style is always reasonable, and we’re very sorry for the inconvenience.”
    Was that a twenty-pound note Olivia could see? The envelope was thick, so there might be quite a few of them. Sam wanted her to use cash to buy her plane ticket; probably so she wouldn’t leave a definite trail for someone else to follow. She’d read about that sort of thing.
    “Miss FitzDurham?”
    Call the airline. Book the flight and arrange to pick up the ticket at the airport. Pack a few things and go.
    Olivia cleared her throat. “Who’s there?” The man had to be got rid of. She hadn't asked him to push money through the door, but he had, and he was asking for the negatives. Good enough.
    “It’s the man from London Style. If I could come in—”
    “No.” She pushed the mackintosh aside and stood up. “I see you’ve brought the money to pay me. I’ll just get what you want. Thank you.” Perhaps there was enough money on the hall floor to pay for her ticket; then she wouldn’t have to worry about getting a cash advance.
    She dashed down the uncarpeted stairs to the basement, snatched the envelope