Broken Angel

Chapter 14

When Abbey arrived home, she relaxed on the settee and shut her eyes. Her thoughts wandered to Jacob's murder. Perhaps it was for the best, he was crazy, insane. Inside his head, he believed his bizarre ideas. He had rewritten the ground rules. In many ways, it was exciting until it was not a good idea. Thoughts came and went but one entered her brain. The pros and cons of the argument filled her head.

With a pounding heart, her eyes snapped open. Slowly her breathing steadied. She glanced at her watch. Two hours had passed. She rubbed her eyes, sat up, and stared at the pile of study papers on the coffee table. On lifting the top sheet, she stretched and yawned. Why do I have to read this crap? She tossed the page aside, fell back into the comfort of the couch and closed her eyes.

***

Barry Thompson removed a buff folder from his desk drawer. He placed it flat before opening and thumbing through his notes. For a few seconds he scanned the pages before lifting his mobile and pressing a memory key. It answered on the fourth ring. "Hi, Terry, I've found another sucker. She's ripe for the con and I'd love to do things with her body."

"What's she good for?"

"A Million. It's a doddle. I'll arrange for you to visit and do the necessary in the next couple of days. Okay?"

"And my cut?"

"Thirty-five."

"I'll wait for your call." The line went dead as Barry removed a pillbox from a locked drawer in his desk. Smiling, he stood, buttoned his jacket and grabbed his car keys. "Right, Miss Lane, the game begins."

***

 The door-entry buzzer snapped Abbey out of her sleep. She jumped and lifted the handset. "Abbey."

"Miss Lane, its Barry Thompson from the Estate Agents. I know it's not the best time, but my client would like some photos. She's really keen."

"You should have phoned."

"If it's not convenient I'll come back in the morning." He grinned when the door clicked open.

Abbey opened her flat door and watched him approach. His mouth formed a smile as he held out his hand. She ignored the gesture.

"Thank you. Just a few snaps and I'll leave. I must say the communal area is spotless."

"It should be. The cleaner doesn't come cheap."

She closed the door. "Where first?"

He removed his mobile and set the camera to video. "Right here is great. You lead. I'll follow."

Three distinct knocks on the door distracted her. "Two seconds."

Steve, a muscular young man with cropped blonde-hair, lived in the basement flat. He smiled as the door opened. "Hi, Abbey, I'm out of milk. You wouldn't have a spare cupful? Pay you back tomorrow."

She laughed. "I've a carton, come in. Oh, this is Barry, my estate agent."

Steve chewed his lower lip. "Didn't know you were selling."

"No one does. You're the first. My father died, and I can't afford this place."

She strolled into the kitchen and returned with an unopened carton and handed it to Steve. As he started to leave, she whispered, "Come back in thirty minutes."

Steve nodded as the door closed.

She located Barry in her bedroom, his hands pressing the mattress on her queen-size bed.

"Great bed."

"There are three bedrooms. One I use as a study and the other my junk room or guest bedroom."