Fate Worse Than Death by Sheila Radley Read Free Book Online

husband disappeared years before I was born. He was never mentioned in my hearing, and I don’t know whether she’s now divorced or widowed or separated. Or whether Schultz was an American airman or a German ex-prisoner of war. The story has always intrigued me, because it seems so totally unlikely when you meet her. And I hope you will meet her, because I’m sure you’ll –’
    â€˜Hold on a minute.’ Alison’s frown deepened. ‘How old is your aunt?’
    â€˜Just turned seventy. She must have been pushing thirty during the war, so I suppose she was trying to make up for lost time.’
    â€˜Seventy’s not all that old, these days. Your aunt could easily live for another fifteen years. Twenty, perhaps.’
    â€˜Have a heart!’ Martin grinned. ‘It’ll be nowhere near as long as that, with any luck.’
    Alison stiffened. Strongly as she was drawn to him, she found his preoccupation with money alien and repellent. She hadn’t realized how very much material things mattered to him, and how casually he could anticipate the early death of a relative from whom he had expectations.
    â€˜With any luck?’ she protested. ‘And you claim to be fond of her –’
    â€˜Who wants to live to be ninety? I’m sure Aunt Con doesn’t. I don’t wish a long and infirm old age on her – but that doesn’t mean I’m not fond of her.’
    â€˜Like hell you are, Martin!’ Alison sprang to her feet, her hair swinging with vigorous indignation, her cheeks pink, the green of her eyes sharpening to emerald. ‘How can you say you’re fond of your aunt, when you’re basing your entire lifestyle on the money you anticipate getting when the poor old lady’s dead! I think that’s disgusting. No doubt you’ll make a great fuss of her while you’re staying with her, but all the time you’ll be hoping that she’ll conveniently drop dead within the next four or five years, so that you can afford to get married without giving up any of your pleasures. Well, you can leave me out of your calculations! Of all the rotten, scheming –’
    Alison stopped to draw breath. She was trembling with fury. Martin Tait stood beside her wondering what had hit him. He tried to touch her, to soothe her, to explain, to change the subject, but she was beyond reason. Two years ago she had called him an unprincipled liar; this time she called him a selfish hypocrite. Now,
    as then, she told him that she never wanted to see him again.

Chapter Seven
    For the first time since her incarceration, Sandra Websdell had spoken kindly to her captor when he came to bring her breakfast. For the first time for days she had forced herself to eat.
    Already, buoyed up by the thought of attempting to escape, she felt a little better. To have a purpose was, in itself, she discovered, a kind of freedom.
    But she couldn’t hope to get away simply by rushing for the door when his back was turned. Unless she could disable him in some way, at least temporarily, she would have no chance of breaking free.
    She took no pleasure in the thought of causing him physical pain. She didn’t hate him, she pitied him. But that wouldn’t stop her from damaging him – if only she could think of a way to do it without using up the strength she would need for running.
    If only she could think … Her head seemed to be filled with foam rubber. She couldn’t see clearly, either. The air in the room was so hot and stale that sweat stood on her forehead and trickled down into her eyes, stinging and blinding her. And if her sight wasn’t clear, how could she hope to –?
    Eyes …
    That was it. She must blind him temporarily, go for his eyes.
    An atomizer would be just the thing to use. If only she had put a spray – hair spray, toilet-water spray – in one of her honeymoon suitcases. She rummaged in them just to make sure, but