Deadly Diplomacy by Jean Harrod Read Free Book Online Page A

lie; he had to find out the truth. So he went back the next day and talked to the woman’s neighbours, then to employees of the bank they told him she worked for. That’s when he discovered his dad had been in a relationship with the woman for over 20 years. He couldn’t believe it. How could he not have known? Impossible, yet true. It played on his mind for weeks and months after. He wanted to confront his father, but he could never quite bring himself to do it. Then, as time slipped by, the moment never seemed right.
    Months later, he tried to broach the subject with his mother, wondering if she knew and would talk about it. He led in with little clues, but she never took the bait. And he certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell her, if she didn’t know. Eventually, he decided to leave well alone. Their marriage was their own affair.
    But a week before she died, his mother told him about his father’s other family, breaking the news he had a step-sister. Sangster had wanted to ask so many questions, but her face just seemed to close down, as though she was either numb or she didn’t care. Maybe she didn’t care? Or maybe she’d learnt to shut down her emotions to cope with the hurt?
    When clearing out the family house after she died, he’d found his early drawings of her in a box on top of her wardrobe. Now that box sat on a shelf in his study. He often looked at those drawings. That’s the way he liked to remember his mother, as happy and smiling. But to him, his parents’ union was nothing but a passionless deception that had put him off marriage for life. And that’s exactly what he’d told Liz on the one occasion she mentioned marriage. Liz didn’t say anything at the time. But she must have been thinking about it because after dinner, when they were washing up, she suddenly said: “If you love someone enough, Tom, you don’t think twice about marrying them.” Now, those words were swirling around in his head. Is that why she left? Did she think he didn’t love her because he didn’t want to get married? Was that it? Of course he loved her. She knew he loved her. Didn’t she?
    He ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he wasn’t a good communicator. Perhaps it was because he’d grown up as an only child. He liked his own company; it was easier somehow. And he’d always found people a bit of a mystery, even back then. He would study their faces, then draw them. It was his way of trying to work them out, investigate them even. Now, he could read faces like an expert, which he found useful in his job. Any tilt of the head, or twitch of a cheek or lip, or even a long stare, would tell him everything. He could capture the essence of someone’s character in a single drawing.
    Pursuing that talent, he’d qualified in contemporary fine art and design and began work, taking commissions for illustrations. Then he progressed on to portraits, his true calling. But that work alone wouldn’t pay the bills. Forced to cast around, he got some work as a court artist, which sparked his interest in the law and policing. Later, at a school reunion, he met a mate who was so enthusiastic about his career in the police, Sangster thought he’d give it a go too. And, while it hadn’t been his first career choice, it had become his vocation. Now, 20 years on, he was surprised at how well he’d done. He wasn’t motivated by a desire to get to the top, although he’d take that in his stride when it came his way. To him, every crime was an all-consuming puzzle that burned in his brain like a fever; and he couldn’t rest or relax until he’d solved it.
    Dalton catapulted through the revolving door, interrupting his thoughts. “I’ve got Susan Chambers’ address,” he said, waving a piece of paper. “The guys went round earlier to tell her about her sister. She took the news badly, as you would expect. Then she acted weird; she pushed them out of the house, sayin’ she didn’t want any help. Now, she’s