Shades of Murder Read Online Free

addressed moved into their circle. A stranger glancing at her for the first time would probably have judged her much younger than she was. The long braid of fair hair hanging down her back, the round schoolgirl glasses and fresh-complexioned skin embellished with very little make-up all suggested twenty. Only when she spoke and the listener paid closer attention, would he have increased his estimate to thirty. Juliet Painter was, in fact, thirty-four. She wore a three-piece outfit, straight but loose in shades of chestnut brown. The design was simple but, Meredith judged, expensive. The cost lay in the cut and in the material.
    ‘Don’t read much,’ she said carelessly. ‘Don’t have the time. I wouldn’t read the sort of thing James is talking about, anyhow.’
    ‘Then you don’t know what you’re missing,’ said James Holland, unperturbed by this put-down. They exchanged grins in the way old friends and sparring partners do.
    ‘You estate agents too busy to open a book?’ asked Geoffrey, fixing her with a mocking look.
    They saw her flush and the snap of anger behind the round lenses. It was echoed in her voice as she replied, ‘I’m not an estate agent, Geoff! I don’t know how many times I’ve told you. Though I shouldn’t need to remind you, you know it perfectly well. I’m a property consultant. I advise people and go house-hunting for them. I have got a talent, if I say so myself, for running down suitable properties, I sometimes go to house auctions and bid on clients’ behalf. I enjoy doing it. I don’t actually flog the houses myself,’ she concluded sharply.
    ‘Never had a kick-back from an estate agency with a mansion on its hands?’ Geoffrey drained the last of his wine and looked round for somewhere to stand his empty glass.
    ‘Shut up, Geoff!’ said his wife with even more force than usual.
    ‘That’s damn near actionable,’ Juliet said savagely, ‘as well as stupid. How could I afford to risk my reputation by recommending an obvious dud? If anyone else had said that to me, I’d sue. Just because you’re mybrother, don’t think you’ll always get away with it, Geoff. One of these days you’ll go too far. You always had a weird sense of humour.’
    ‘And you, little sister, always rose beautifully to the bait.’
    ‘Geoff,’ said his wife firmly, ‘people are running out of drinks. It’s time for you to see to the booze.’
    Geoff gave them an apologetic look and took himself off to open bottles, his wife in close pursuit.
    James Holland chuckled in the depths of his bushy black beard. ‘Something tells me poor old Geoff is getting an earful in the kitchen at this moment.’
    ‘Poor old Geoff, nothing,’ Juliet Painter retorted. ‘He’s had too much to drink. I wish he wouldn’t keep on about his poisons. It unsettles people – haven’t you noticed? I think Pam has. I always think . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I always think one oughtn’t to talk too much about bad things in case they happen.’
    ‘Speak of the devil,’ murmured James Holland, ‘and he’ll appear.’
    ‘That’s right. I expect I sound superstitious, but I’m not.’ Juliet tossed her long fair braid so that it swung to and fro like a horse’s tail flicking away flies.
    ‘It’s not superstition,’ Alan Markby said. ‘It’s the human subconscious at work, picking up the vibes that tell a person there’s danger ahead. A legacy of our primitive past. Now, where have you been lately, Juliet, or who have you been talking to, that’s resulted in your cavewoman instincts being reawakened?’
    ‘Don’t,’ she said uneasily.
    The door swung open and Geoff reappeared, brandishing a bottle in either hand. ‘Top up? Red or white? I’ve promised to behave myself. Sorry if I upset you, Sis.’
    ‘You’re an idiot,’ said his sister by way of accepting his apology.
    ‘You don’t know of someone who wants to rent a house, do you?’ Meredith asked her.
    Juliet looked surprised. ‘I always know