Murder... Now and Then by Jill McGown Read Free Book Online

Samaritan. I wasn’t passing by on the other side. Please, please, make her keep her mouth shut.
    The cap was screwed back on, and he paid the attendant, remembering to tip him, but not too much. He didn’t want anyone to have any reason at all to remember him, to give his description to the police, and he tried not to look as though he was sweating with apprehension as he fired the engine, and drove out of the lights of the garage, back on to the dark road.
    â€˜Why did you say I was your daughter?’ she asked, right on cue.
    â€˜What was I supposed to say? No, it’s not my daughter, it’s a kid I picked up in Buckinghamshire?’
    â€˜I’m not a pick-up. And I’m not a kid. And it wasn’t Buckinghamshire. It was Hertfordshire.’
    â€˜I meant picked up as in gave a lift to. How old are you, anyway?’
    â€˜I was sixteen last week.’
    â€˜Sure,’ muttered Max.
    â€˜It’s the truth! Do you want to see my birth certificate?’
    Could it be the truth? Could it be that God was smiling on him for his good deed, and hadn’t really sent him a thirteen-year-old compulsive liar who was going to land him in prison for years? Of course it wasn’t the truth. Max sighed heavily. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I can’t just drop you off in the middle of London. I think I should take you to the police.’
    â€˜No,’ she said, with something like panic, and made as if to open the door of the moving car.
    â€˜All right all right! he shouted. ‘Forget the police.’
    She relaxed a little. ‘So you’ll just let me out when we get there?’ she said.
    â€˜No,’ he said.
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜Because even if you were sixteen last week, which I very much doubt London is a big city, with big city vices.’
    â€˜I’ll go to an hotel.’
    â€˜Hotels cost money.’
    â€˜I’ve got money.’
    Max looked at her. ‘ Oh, yes?’
    â€˜Yes! Do you want to see it, too?’
    â€˜No,’ he said. ‘And I don’t think I want to know how you came by it, either.’ Probably by robbing Good Samaritans, he thought, as his day of reckoning neared, and city landmarks began to appear, lit up against the dark sky. ‘ What sort of hotel?’ he asked.
    â€˜Any.’
    He pulled the car up as soon as he could, turning to face her. ‘Do you know London at all?’ he asked.
    â€˜Not really.’
    He closed his eyes. ‘ Right,’ he said. ‘Well – London has got every conceivable kind of hotel. From ones that cost more a night than I earn in a week to ones that Al Capone would think twice about entering. Now – I know one that’s clean and pleasant, and not terribly expensive.’
    Her eyes narrowed a little. ‘All right,’ she said, her voice full of suspicion. ‘It’ll do.’
    He pulled out, and began making his way through the late-evening traffic, sparse now; he made good progress through the wet streets, on some of which still hung the tattered, sodden remains of the Silver Jubilee bunting. ‘ But even a not very expensive hotel is expensive if you don’t have much money,’ he said.
    â€˜I’ve got enough money,’ she said.
    Thank God, he thought as he finally saw the hotel, in a terraced row of similar hotels, most of which he would not have recommended. But this one was all right. Max parked on double yellow lines in a side street, and got out of the car to be met with an accusing look over the roof as he straightened up.
    â€˜What are you getting out for?’ she asked.
    â€˜Because you may or may not be sixteen,’ said Max, ‘but you look about thirteen. And I don’t think that they will feel entirely happy about giving you a room without an evidently adult person sanctioning your request.’
    She looked at him for a long moment. ‘And what relationship are we going to be this