Not Safe After Dark by Peter Robinson Read Free Book Online

selfish woman,’ he said. ‘And she’s messy, she never does anything around the place. Too busy watching those
damn soap operas on television day and night. She cares about nothing but her own comfort, and she never overlooks an opportunity to nag me or taunt me. If I try to escape to my collection, she
mocks me and calls me dull and boring. I’m not even safe from her in my garden. I realize I have no imagination, Mr Quilley, and perhaps even less courage, but even a man like me deserves
some peace in his life, don’t you think?’
    Quilley had to admit that the woman really did sound awful – worse than any he had known, and he had met some shrews in his time. He had never had much use for women, except for occasional
sex in his younger days. Even that had become sordid, and now he stayed away from them as much as possible. He found, as he listened, that he could summon up remarkable sympathy for Peplow’s
position.
    ‘What do you have in mind?’ he asked.
    ‘I don’t really know. That’s why I wrote to you. I was hoping you might be able to help with some ideas. Your books . . . you seem to know so much.’
    ‘In my books,’ Quilley said, ‘the murderer always gets caught.’
    ‘Well, yes,’ said Peplow, ‘of course. But that’s because the genre demands it, isn’t it? I mean, your Inspector Baldry is much smarter than any real policeman.
I’m sure if you’d made him a criminal, he would always get away.’
    There was no arguing with that, Quilley thought. ‘How do you want to do it?’ he asked. ‘A domestic accident? Electric shock, say? Gadget in the bathtub? She must have a hair
curler or a dryer?’
    Peplow shook his head, eyes tightly closed. ‘Oh no,’ he whispered, ‘I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything like that. No more than I could bear the sight of her
blood.’
    ‘How’s her health?’
    ‘Unfortunately,’ said Peplow, ‘she seems obscenely robust.’
    ‘How old is she?’
    ‘Forty-nine.’
    ‘Any bad habits?’
    ‘Mr Quilley, my wife has nothing but bad habits. The only thing she won’t tolerate is drink, for some reason, and I don’t think she has other men – though
that’s probably because nobody will have her.’
    ‘Does she smoke?’
    ‘Like a chimney.’
    Quilley shuddered. ‘How long?’
    ‘Ever since she was a teenager, I think. Before I met her.’
    ‘Does she exercise?’
    ‘Never.’
    ‘What about her weight, her diet?’
    ‘Well, you might not call her fat, but you’d be generous in saying she was full-figured. She eats too much junk food. I’ve always said that. And eggs. She loves bacon and eggs
for breakfast. And she’s always stuffing herself with cream cakes and tarts.’
    ‘Hmmm,’ said Quilley, taking a sip of Amstel. ‘She sounds like a prime candidate for a heart attack.’
    ‘But it’s me who—’ Peplow stopped as comprehension dawned. ‘Yes, I see. You mean one could be induced ?’
    ‘Quite. Do you think you could manage that?’
    ‘Well, I could if I didn’t have to be there to watch. But I don’t know how.’
    ‘Poison.’
    ‘I don’t know anything about poison.’
    ‘Never mind. Give me a few days to look into it. I’ll give you advice, remember, but that’s as far as it goes.’
    ‘Understood.’
    Quilley smiled. ‘Good. Another beer?’
    ‘No, I’d better not. She’ll be able to smell this one on my breath and I’ll be in for it already. I’d better go.’
    Quilley looked at his watch. Two-thirty. He could have done with another Amstel, but he didn’t want to stay there by himself. Besides, at three it would be time to meet his agent at the
Four Seasons, and there he would have the opportunity to drink as much as he wanted. To pass the time, he could browse in Book City. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘I’ll go down with
you.’
    Outside on the hot, busy street, they shook hands and agreed to meet in a week’s time on the back patio of the Madison Avenue Pub. It wouldn’t do to be seen together