Troubled Deaths Read Online Free PDF

are we going for lunch, Geoff? That place in Palma you were talking about where the food’s so special?’
    He accelerated to the K-junction, then braked heavily for the Llueso road. He was in a fast car, so he always drove fast. ‘I had a change of mind. I thought it would be more fun this time to have a meal at my place so I told the cook to lay on a really nice cold meal.’
    ‘Have you got a cook?’
    ‘That’s what she calls herself, but most of the time she could fool me. They’re all the same out here. Give ‘em a cupful of beans and an ounce of belly of pork and they knock up a meal for half a dozen peasants, but give ‘em decent food and like as not they’ll ruin it.’
    ‘If you’ve a cook, I suppose you’ve quite a big house, Geoff.’
    ‘I wouldn’t ever call it that,’ he said, in a throwaway tone of voice. He could almost hear her mind working: expensive car, a cook, a big house . . .
    They left the Port and he drove very fast along the straight Llueso road, blasting past a couple of small cars which had strayed into the centre. ‘Most of ‘em still think they’re in donkey carts,’ he said. ‘They spend their time at the wheel asleep.’
    ‘But aren’t the donkey carts fun? I think it’s all so romantic’
    ‘Provided you like donkeys.’
    ‘I suppose you’ve been around the world too much to see it like I do?’
    ‘I’ve been around,’ he agreed.
    She sighed. ‘I’ve always wanted to travel a lot. As I said to Di only yesterday, there’s nothing like travel to show you how the other people live. And that has to be a good thing, doesn’t it?’
    It was extraordinary how most people led cliche lives and could only think and talk in cliches. Rose had been like that. Just for a moment, he wondered where Rose and the two children were right then. Not driving around in a Mercedes, that was for sure.
    When they turned into Ca’n Ritat’s drive, she said: ‘Is this where you live? But it’s lovely. So . . . so local. And look at all the flowers in the garden. There aren’t really any flowers left in the garden at home. My dad’s a terribly keen gardener and if he could see this he’d go green with envy. I suppose you spend all day in the garden?’
    ‘Me? Why should I get my hands dirty when I employ a gardener to get his?’
    ‘You’ve got a gardener! . . . He must be a good one.’
    He stopped the car. ‘He’s OK on vegetables, but pretty bloody useless on anything else. Can’t grow English seeds even when I tell him exactly how. And you’re not going to believe this, but he ignores the weather and won’t plant out until it’s the right Saint’s Day for whatever it is he’s planting!’ He looked at her and saw she was puzzled, not having understood the reason for his scorn. Peasant-minded.
    She opened her door, released the seat-belt, and stepped out. The dog, which had come forward to the extent of its chain, barked. ‘Belt up,’ shouted Freeman.
    ‘What’s his name?’ she asked.
    ‘God knows.’ He picked up a stone, threw it, and missed.
    ‘Why d’you throw that?’
    ‘Because the bloody mongrel’s good for nothing but barking. I’ve told the Blancos to get rid of it, but like the rest of the people on this island they never do what they’re told.’
    She walked over to the dog, spoke to it, and patted its head. The tail began to wag. ‘He’s not nearly as fierce as he sounds. Are you, poochy? Geoff, he’s really friendly.’
    ‘So what am I supposed to do about that? Take it to bed with me?’
    She gave it a last pat. She wasn’t sure if she liked Geoff as much as she’d thought she would. Then she looked at the house, the garden, and the car, and decided that one couldn’t have everything.
    ‘Leave it alone and come and have a drink.’ He led the way along the gravel path which ran round the side of the house, past the front door, to the patio.
    ‘You’ve even got a swimming pool!’ she exclaimed, as she came round the corner of the