Fatal Liaison by Vicki Tyley Read Free Book Online

his briefcase and stuck his hand under the stack of manila
folders, his fingers feeling for the keys to Sam’s home. He’d held on to them
with the intention of returning them to her when she came home. They were so
tarnished he doubted she even knew of their existence. He should’ve reminded
her to change the locks when she moved in; she wasn’t living in the country
anymore.
    Before rushing out the door, he checked the answering machine was
switched on. The machine’s unblinking green eye stared at him. For a split
second he contemplated changing the message.
    No time.
    Within moments, he was behind the wheel of his car and accelerating
into the street. Completely disregarding the possibility of speed cameras en
route, he headed in the direction of Sam’s place. He only narrowly avoided
hitting a delivery van when he failed to notice it coming out of a service
station. That shook him, forcing him to slow down.
    He reached his destination without further incident, pulling into
the driveway behind Sam’s car. Clambering out of his own, he made his way down
past the carport and onto the path leading up to the front veranda’s chipped
and cracking concrete steps. Nothing had changed since his last visit, but
hoping against hope, he rapped his knuckles on the solid front door and called
out.
    One of the two keys on the ring in his hand fitted the back door,
but he hadn’t thought to try the other key in the front door when he let
himself out last time. He turned the key and felt the lock-assembly yield. The
thought of scaling the side fence again would’ve been too much to bear.
    The door swung inwards, the air colder inside than out. As he
stepped into the entrance hall, he looked down at his feet and realized he
hadn’t removed his shoes. Out of force of habit, he crouched down and undid his
laces. If he’d stopped to think about it, traipsing dirt through the house was
the least of his worries.
    He stood and shut the door, closing out the outside world. The house
was silent and a hint of mustiness hung in the air. He padded down the hall,
glancing in each of the rooms he passed. When he stepped into the kitchen, it
was more than evident Sam hadn’t been home since Sunday. The original single
coffee cup still sat in the sink, along with the mug he’d used and rinsed. The
dishes were still in the dish-rack and the coffeepot was sitting on the edge of
the range where he’d left it cooling.
    Remembering the dinner dating agency’s brochure, he made a beeline
for the fridge. He rescued the glossy trifold from the jaws of a purple plastic
crocodile and, perching on the table edge, studied it. The glib promises and
posed photos might have charmed some, but certainly did nothing for him.
However, that wasn’t important. What he really needed was a phone number. He
turned the brochure over to where the company’s contact details, including a
website, were listed.
    He dropped the brochure face down on the table and plonked down on
one of the wooden chairs. He then drew out his BlackBerry and dialed Dinner for
Twelve’s business number. It rang half a dozen times before a toffy female
voice answered the phone.
    Hiding his angst, Greg kept his voice low, and speaking in carefully
measured tones explained who he was and that his sister, one of their clients,
had not been seen or heard of in some days. “Obviously, this is causing her
family some concern. Especially since it’s so out of character for my sister to
take off without telling anyone her plans. It’s imperative that I speak with
the man she made a connection with at one of your company’s functions.”
    “I’m sorry,” said the woman whose name he hadn’t caught, “but I’m
afraid I’m not in a position to help you.”
    “Please. Our mother is extremely unwell. I need to find Sam before
it’s too late.” A slight exaggeration but needs must. “She described the guy as
‘tall, dark and drop-dead gorgeous,’ if that helps.”
    “I’m sorry, Mr