Clouded Vision by Linwood Barclay Read Free Book Online Page B

would be to get to the bank when it opens tomorrow morning and cash the cheque, before Garfield had a chance to phone and stop payment on it.
    ‘I’m very sorry you’d think that of me, Mr Garfield. Just when I thought we were making some progress.’
    ‘Whatever you know, whatever you think you know, it’s got nothing to do with visions or communicating with the dead or reading tea leaves. Whatever you know, you found it out some other way.’
    ‘I assure you, I—’
    ‘Would you please hand me my wife’s robe? I don’t want you touching it any more.’
    ‘Oh, certainly,’ Keisha said. This really seemed to suggest that they were done.
    ‘Thank you,’ he said, gathering it up into a ball.
    Keisha reached down for her handbag and set it into her lap. She made sure it was zipped tight at the top, and started to stand.
    Garfield said, ‘No, don’t go yet.’
    ‘I can’t see what possible point there would be in staying any longer, Mr Garfield. It’s clear you think I’m some kind of con artist. I’ve been at this too long to take offence. Some people react like that, and think what I do is a sham. If that’s your conclusion, then I’m happy to be on my way.’
    She was thinking, Don’t ask me to give you back the money.
    ‘Did I offend you? I’m very sorry if I did that.’ He didn’t look at all sincere.
    ‘You just accused me of having someone standing by to – to lie to you about my successes. Wouldn’t you expect me to take offence at that?’
    He was still pacing, still fondling the robe, doing something with it, as if it was a mound of clay that he was shaping into something. Keisha watched as he took a few steps one way, then the other. It struck her that this was how he formed his thoughts, by making these little journeys around the room.
    ‘You are very clever, I have to give you that,’ he said.
    Keisha said nothing. She was starting to get an inkling of what was going on. She should have caught on a little sooner.
    ‘Very, very clever,’ he said, stepping over to the window, and pulling back the curtain to get a look at the street. This meant he was standing off to one side and slightly behind Keisha, and she had to twist around in her chair to see him. ‘I’d like to apologise. Forget what I just said. Why don’t you carry on, let me hear some more about your vision. ’
    ‘Mr Garfield, I’m not sure—’
    ‘No, no, please, go on.’
    Keisha put her bag back down on the carpet and rested her hands by her thighs on the seat cushion. ‘Would you like me to start again with the ice, or move on to something else?’
    ‘Why don’t you just say whatever comes into your head.’
    Keisha had a bad feeling. She couldn’t recall dealing with anyone like this before, who’d seemingly lost interest in what she had to say, wanted her to leave, then had a change of heart. Judging by his tone now, she didn’t believe he was even interested in anything else she had to say.
    He just didn’t want her to leave.
    Something was very wrong here. Suddenly she thought she knew why.
    It’s him. He did it.
    It explained his strange behaviour. Keisha wanted to kick herself for not realising it sooner. She’d been at this long enough, of course, to know that when a wife was murdered – or missing – the husband was always a prime suspect. It wasn’t very often that people were killed by strangers. They were killed by people they knew. Wives were killed by husbands. Husbands were killed by wives.
    The man had moved away from the window, and was taking a route behind Keisha’s chair. She was going to have to turn around to keep her eye on him.
    ‘On second thought, sure, tell me about the ice.’
    The televised news conference had put her on the wrong track. She’d figured, first of all, that if the police had suspected strongly that Garfield had killed his wife, they’d have never let him go before the cameras. Would they? She had to admit, he was good. Those tears looked real. The way he