White Rage by Campbell Armstrong Read Free Book Online

opened his arms instinctively. She stepped at once inside his embrace, and pressed her face against his chest. He held her this way for a time and thought it strange to feel so alive in this place of the dead, and stranger still to be holding his brother’s wife a few feet from the place where Colin lay.
    â€˜I missed you,’ he said. Christ, he longed to let his language soar. I missed you . A weary wee platitude. He wanted to speak of love and commitment, and open all the doors of his heart for her to see how he’d furnished the rooms. Come live with me in these chambers.
    â€˜I went to Florence,’ she said.
    â€˜I heard.’
    â€˜I had to get away.’
    â€˜Did you paint in Florence?’ Why couldn’t he think of a scintillating comment, an insightful response?
    She stared across the cemetery. He detected a slight flicker of hurt in her eyes. It must cause her pain to come back to this place; a dead husband, after all – there was surely some sense of loss, a quiet grief. There had to be a few memories of good times. It couldn’t all be anger and regret and the bitter taste of betrayal in her mouth. She took a couple of steps away from him and studied Colin’s grave. Then she set a pebble alongside the one Lou had left.
    â€˜I didn’t feel much like painting. I bought canvas and some paints. But …’ She shrugged indecisively.
    â€˜When did you come back?’ he asked.
    â€˜Nobody told you? Last week.’
    â€˜How was Florence?’
    â€˜Quiet,’ she said. ‘I like Florence. Off-season anyway.’ She gazed at him and smiled. He thought that smile would melt the polar ice-cap and swell oceans. Her voice, low-pitched, almost husky, belonged in an old-style Left Bank café where candles burned and the chanteuse sang with painful intimacy of broken hearts, and the zinc counter was dented.
    She said, ‘Poor Lou, you don’t know what to do with your hands, do you? You never did.’
    He was unaware that he’d been tapping the pockets of his coat in a pointless way. Big hands. Hard to hide. Thick fingers. ‘I find them useless except for brushing my teeth and buttoning my coat, just about.’
    â€˜You obviously don’t use them to run a comb through your hair.’
    He raised a hand to the spiky disarray of his hair, suddenly self-conscious. Leo Kilroy had made some comment about his hair earlier, which had irked him. But he’d gladly let Miriam say anything she liked about his appearance. She could reconstruct him if she wanted. Build me up into a new man, love. Consider it a challenge.
    â€˜My hair has a mind of its own.’
    â€˜It’s so you . That just-out-of-bed look.’
    â€˜Is that compliment or critique?’
    â€˜You work it out.’ And again she looked across the cemetery, as if something in the distance had demanded her attention. He followed her line of sight. The arc of the rainbow still hung beyond the water tower, colours fuzzy.
    â€˜How did two brothers turn out so differently?’ she asked.
    â€˜Who knows? I like your hair, speaking of hair.’
    â€˜I needed a change,’ she said. She reached out and took one of his hands. ‘There. I’ll keep it still.’ She held it pressed between her own. Her skin was cold. She no longer wore a wedding ring, he noticed.
    â€˜Do you know a cop called Latta?’ she asked.
    â€˜Not very well. Why?’
    â€˜He’s one of the reasons I came back.’
    â€˜I see him around from time to time. Fraud Squad. Black hair, bad teeth.’
    â€˜Very scary teeth,’ she said. ‘He’s been asking me questions.’
    â€˜About Colin?’
    â€˜Right. Latta makes me feel as if I was some kind of willing accomplice in Colin’s financial schemes. As if I know where there’s a vast cache of money and bonds or something.’
    â€˜Is he pressuring you?’
    Miriam shrugged. ‘I