Neon Madman Read Online Free Page B

entry that way. Which meant he was either out of London or ex-directory. It never occurred to me that he wouldn’t have a phone at all.
    I pushed the book down on to the floor and called a girl called Pat whom I knew and who worked on the local exchange. If my memory was right she would be working late and she was. A very regular girl, Pat, which was just as well in itself.
    We worked our way through the I haven’t seen you for a long time, I’ve been busy I’ll give you a call as soon as I’m free stuff and then she asked me what I wanted.
    I told her.
    I heard her swear at me half under her breath and thought for a moment she wasn’t going to play. But a couple of minutes later she read the number out to me.
    â€˜Where’s that?’ I asked.
    â€˜Richmond somewhere.’
    â€˜Okay, thanks a lot, Pat. I’ll … ’
    â€˜You listen to me, Scott,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m fed up with conducting our relationship strictly in terms of what information I can feed you with over the telephone. I’m beginning to feel like the speaking clock. I think it’s your turn to feed me.’
    There was a slight pause during which I could hear her breathing. ‘What with?’ I asked.
    â€˜To start off with a nice juicy steak and a bottle of wine. And then you can take me dancing. It’s a long time since I went dancing.’
    â€˜All right, Pat,’ I promised. ‘The next time I call it will be to fix a date.’
    â€˜It had better be,’ she said and broke the connection.
    I dialled the number she had given me and it rang a lot of times before anyone came to answer it. It was a woman’s voice: smooth, assured, cultured. The sort who always gets to stand in the royal enclosure at Ascot and picks the winner as well.
    â€˜Mrs Murdoch? Mrs James P. Murdoch?’
    A few seconds of hesitation, then the answer came with thoroughbred assurance. ‘This is Mrs Murdoch. Who is that calling?’
    â€˜My name’s Mitchell. Scott Mitchell.’
    â€˜The name means nothing to me Mr Mitchell. With whom did you wish to speak?’
    I liked the with whom. I said, ‘Is Mr Murdoch there?’
    â€˜Does that mean you want to speak with him?’
    â€˜Could be,’ I said. ‘Or it could be I want to make sure he’s out of the way before I start chatting you up over the phone.’
    â€˜I presume you’re joking.’
    â€˜Why presume? With a voice like yours it must happen all the time.’
    I waited for the line to go dead, but it didn’t. After a while she said, ‘How did you get this number, Mr Mitchell? It is ex-directory, you know.’
    â€˜Yes, I know.’
    â€˜Well, are you going to tell me how you came by it?’
    â€˜Perhaps I saw it written on a wall somewhere. Who knows? Are you going to tell me whether your husband is in or not?’
    â€˜My husband is out.’
    â€˜When will he be back?’
    â€˜I have no idea.’
    â€˜Well, is he anywhere I can get in touch with him?’
    â€˜I have no idea of his precise whereabouts either.’
    â€˜He is your husband?’
    â€˜Mr Mitchell, I don’t know why I persist in talking to you in this inane and undignified manner instead of putting down the receiver.’
    â€˜That’s right,’ I agreed. ‘Nor do I. It’s interesting; isn’t it? Maybe you get fed up with talking broken English to the au-pair and reading last month’s “Homes and Gardens”.’
    She might have laughed. Then again, it could have been interference on the line. She said, ‘Actually, it was “Harper’s and Queen”.’
    â€˜Would it be worth my trying again later? To talk to your husband, I mean?’
    â€˜It might and it might not.’
    â€˜You mean sometimes he doesn’t come home nights?’
    â€˜He’s a grown man, Mr Mitchell, and he does as he pleases.’
    â€˜If I