Read Online Cat Among the Herrings by L. C. Tyler - Free Book Online Page A

did so.
    ‘Hello?’ I said, as soon as I was in the corridor.
    ‘Why you not return my call, Ethelred?’
    ‘I sent a text,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing I can do, Catarina.’
    ‘A text?’
    I wondered if, in whichever part of eastern Europe she came from, a text was some deadly form of insult, akin to refusing to eat the eyeballs of a goat that has just been slaughtered in your honour. That seemed likely.
    ‘I tried to phone,’ I lied. ‘I thought a text would be faster.’
    ‘Faster than what?’
    ‘I’m sorry … perhaps I should have come over to you …’
    ‘Yes. You should come here. That is what a man would do. You are afraid of me?’
    ‘No,’ I said. But that too was a lie.
    ‘You come tonight. I shall be waiting. I have found things that will blow your head.’
    ‘But …’ I said.
    It’s difficult speaking to somebody who has hung up. It was always one of Elsie’s tricks, in the days when Elsie’s tricks had anything to do with me. Of course I would go. Surely I was not afraid of visiting her? Or was it that I was more afraid of not visiting her? My phone rang again.
    ‘What are you playing at, Ethelred? I’ve been trying to get through to you for ages.’
    ‘Elsie?’ I said.
    ‘What is your phone telling you?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, sorry,’ I said. ‘I can see it’s your number. And your picture, because you showed me how to put that on the phone but not how to take it off. Sorry – it’s just a while since we spoke. How are you?’
    ‘Busy. Very, very busy. Busy, busy, busy. Doing deals on behalf of those fortunate enough to be represented by me. Answering fatuous queries from former clients about mates who want to write books. But I thought I might take a short break somewhere on the south coast. I was trying to decide where. What would you suggest?’
    ‘Brighton is lively. Lots to do there. The Pavilion. The pier. Restaurants. Antique shops.’
    ‘Too noisy. I need somewhere quieter.’
    ‘Eastbourne?’
    ‘I’m saving it for my old age.’
    ‘Bognor?’
    ‘Too pebbly.’
    ‘Pebbly? Is it?’
    ‘Yes. Pebbles everywhere you look. I need sand dunes. Lots of them.’
    ‘Littlehampton is—’
    ‘No it isn’t. Littlehampton isn’t anything at all. Let me think, let me think … That place you live in – what’s it called?’
    ‘West Wittering. You know that. You’ve been here before. And you still send me royalty statements, so you have the address.’
    ‘So I do. Though not statements for your latest books, obviously, because you found another agent for those. Until she dumped you. Do you have any sand dunes in West Wittering by any chance?’
    ‘Yes. Lots of them. For example there’s—’
    ‘Excellent. Well, if you recommend it so strongly, I’ll give it a go.’
    ‘Dorset’s also very nice. For beaches.’
    ‘Dorset? Not edgy enough. Too many yokels in smocks. Too many mayors selling their wives to passing sailors. Too many women standing on the breakwater and staring out to sea, waiting for the return of the man who cruelly betrayed them. It’s a county ruined by literature. Are there any big luxury hotels in West Wittering these days?’
    ‘No. None at all. The Beach House does B and B and has a good restaurant.’
    ‘Is it close to the beach?’
    ‘It’s in the village centre. It’s not as close to the beach as I am.’
    ‘That’s kind of you but I couldn’t put you to that much trouble.’
    ‘Sorry? What trouble?’
    ‘“What trouble?” he says. That’s so sweet. OK, if you insist.’
    ‘Insist what?’
    ‘If you insist it’s no trouble, I’ll stay with you, closer to the beach.’
    ‘Did I say that?’
    ‘More or less. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, then. I’ll have one of the bedrooms overlooking the garden.’
    ‘What time are you arriving? I was planning to be in Chichester …’
    But, as I’ve possibly observed before, it’s tricky speaking to somebody who has hung up.
     
    I took a deep breath and dialled. Tom