An Early Grave by Robert McCracken Read Free Book Online

around a stack of books to reach the hall.
    ‘They were making movies in the house,’ he said.
    ‘Which house?’ She spun around to face him.
    ‘Where you found the girl. Pornographic movies.’
    ‘How do you know this?’
    ‘I watched them going in with video cameras. I saw the lights, late at night, in the bedroom. Not ordinary lights, bright, like a floodlight or a spotlight.’
    ‘Who?’
    He shrugged; not so much because he didn’t know but instead had decided he wasn’t telling anymore. Tara guessed his motive.
    ‘Who, Callum. Men? Women? How many?’
    ‘A few. I don’t remember exactly.’ Tara knew there was more, but she knew him well enough already to see that he had a calculating and stubborn streak. She would have to be patient.
    ‘Please try. Call me if you think of anything else.’
    ‘We were students at Latimer College, Oxford. Tilly, Peter, Justin and me.’
    Tara’s eyes widened. Nerves floated across her stomach. She looked Callum in the face; saw the dazzle of conceit in his dark eyes. At last a smile, though hardly welcome, stretched across his mouth.
    ‘I helped you; now you have to help me.’
    ‘Why, Callum? Why ask for my help?’
    He went back to the living room, returning moments later holding a magazine. He opened it at the penultimate page and handed it to her. Immediately, she recognised the photograph of herself in police uniform. She didn’t have to read the short paragraph beneath.
    ‘You were also a student at Latimer,’ he said.
    Without a word, she closed the page and returned his copy of the Oxford Alumni magazine.

 
    CHAPTER 6
     
    ‘Where have you been? And look at the state of you.’
    ‘Really sorry girls. Something came up, and I couldn’t get away.’
    ‘And are these your work clothes?’ said Aisling, looking her up and down, a derogatory smirk clouding her usually stunning pout. Foolishly, Tara thought she might have got away by letting her hair down, giving it a good brushing and putting on some eye-liner and lipstick in the station washroom. No chance. Aisling could spot dull, inexpensive trouser suits at fifty yards. And flat heels? Should have known it wouldn’t work.
    Kate looked different from the last time they’d gone out, having spent the afternoon at the hairdressers and now sporting her new colour. In the subdued light of Mal Maison it appeared orange, which meant in daylight it must be a shocking orange. Fortunately, Kate wore her hair quite short, and tonight it was a tidy orange bob. She kept it short, she claimed, because it saved her from tying it in a bun or a pony-tail to work on the heart ward at The Royal. Tara hoped that tomorrow the sight of Kate didn’t trigger any cardiac arrests among patients.
    ‘First night out in months,’ said Kate, ‘And you dress for a wake?’
    ‘It’s not that bad,’ said Aisling. ‘She’s only dressed as a waitress for a wake.’
    Aisling was the expert among them on dressing up. Always turned out well, because, as she often said, ‘You never know when I might fall into the arms of a millionaire.’ This evening it was a short, clinging dress in navy, well-tanned legs and dizzily high heels. She looked great, perched on a stool, legs crossed, copious black ringlets tumbling off her shoulders, large startled-looking brown eyes always on the hunt for talent. Tara and Kate were both in awe of their friend, had been since third form at Upton Hall. She worked for a Liverpool promotions company at the centre of the biggest and best city events, concerts, shows and sporting occasions. Didn’t mean a huge amount financially but, as Aisling was always quick to mention, it got her close to the people who had bucket loads, and one day soon she would marry some of it. Kate was only marginally taller than Tara, a little heavier, and to compliment the orange hairdo wore a cream strap dress above the knee and embellished with sequins.
    Tara sat on the stool her friends had been keeping for her, while they