Indian Summer by Elizabeth Darrell Read Free Book Online Page B

since breakfast at your place.’
    â€˜That wasn’t breakfast, darling. Coffee and a pot of yoghurt isn’t enough for a tough hunk like you.’ She smiled as she reached up to kiss him, her eyes dark with the promise of passion.
    Max recognized the olive branch despite his mind being busy with the intriguing facts Tom had just disclosed. He took up his wallet and car keys. ‘The inn by the river suit you?’
    â€˜Sounds lovely.’ She linked her arm through his. ‘Feed the beast first and what comes later will be all the better.’
    â€˜Girly wisdom?’ he teased.
    â€˜ Cordwell wisdom. It never fails.’
    He led the way down the steps, wondering who else she might have used it on before he came along. Clare’s sporty car was not beside his, so he guessed she had driven to the base to oversee the collection of Keane’s body. Why would his killer hide his victim for ten hours, then strangle the dead body with a synthetic jellyfish and dump it in the water tank? Max’s agile mind was fascinated by the quirks of human behaviour. He revelled in uncovering the legacy behind them, which then made sense of what had initially seemed bizarre. Keane would have been murdered for a straightforward reason – revenge, resentment, betrayal, greed – but behind that basic emotion a more aberrant one had been simmering. That jellyfish was saying something. He longed to know what.
    When he pulled up in the inn’s carpark Max realized he had no memory of driving there. It had been one of those ‘autopilot’ occasions when his mind had been so occupied he had taken the familiar route automatically. He glanced apologetically at Livya.
    â€˜Sorry about the lack of tourist guide chatter.’
    â€˜I was busy looking at the scenery,’ she said, ‘but I’d like you to be mentally as well as physically present while we eat lunch. You’d better talk it out of your system before we find a table. I gather Tom told you he has a murder case of some complexity on his hands . . . and you don’t feel he can handle it without you.’
    He twisted to face her. ‘No, no, he’s intelligent and experienced enough to deal with anything that comes up.’
    â€˜So it’s envy. You want to be in on the investigation?’
    He smiled with contrition and took her hand. ‘You know what it is that I want . . . and I have two weeks with you in which to work out how I can get it. Let’s go and eat.’
    â€˜Just the two of us? No metaphorical third person?’
    â€˜Just us. Promise.’ He kissed her and got out to lead her to a garden table where gentle sunshine highlighted the profusion of flowers and sparkled the gliding water beyond the low bank, and immediately there was a third presence with them.
    Herr Blomfeld greeted Max as a friend, and so did Friedl the waitress – proof of how frequently he ate there. Blomfeld gave a small Germanic bow on being introduced to Livya, and instantly muddied the waters with his eager account of Max’s rescue of a local girl who had almost drowned during a drunken student frolic in the river.
    â€˜Max went directly into the water and pulled her out. Captain Goodey did the life-saving for to rid the water. She is the very good doctor, eh Max?’ He laughed gustily. ‘You both had to have the drying of your clothes in the kitchens. I am honoured that you both continue to come to my establishment.’
    Left in peace to study the menu, Livya asked what Max would recommend. ‘What do you usually have when you come with the good doctor?’
    He played it cool. ‘On the first occasion during that terrible heatwave, the place was crowded and we were drawn into a middle-aged group celebrating a birthday and a wedding anniversary who plied us with slices of sausage and plates of salad as if we were also guests. Then some students jumped in the river and began