Death by the Book - Lenny Bartulin [23]
Sabine put a hand to her breast. ‘I haven’t offended you, have I, Jack?’
He grinned. Sabine had the sadist about her, no doubt. Jack bet she took her time with everything. Especially getting even. ‘Of course not.’
Annabelle laid cutlery. ‘Nobody forced you to marry him,’ she said to Sabine, who was now looking at her reflection in the oven door, fixing her hair and readjusting her clothing. ‘I still don’t know why you did.’
Sabine swung around. ‘Love, of course!’
‘Oh, of course. What else?’
‘You’re such a bitch.’ Sabine picked up a handbag from the floor and blew out a weary breath. ‘All right then, honey. I’m off. Leave you to your romance.’
‘Bye, baby.’ Annabelle held Sabine’s hands and kissed her on the lips. ‘See you on Saturday.’
‘Ten o’clock, Mario’s, don’t make me wait.’
Jack stood up. Sabine minced over and put her hand on his arm. She kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Lovely to meet you, Jack. I’m sure I’ll see you again.’
She walked out of the kitchen. ‘Bye now,’ she called back. ‘Enjoy breakfast!’ The front door banged shut.
Annabelle began to dish out the risotto. ‘It’s bone marrow and sage.’ She smiled as she served him.
Jack lost a little feeling in his knees, like somebody was blowing bubbles down there with a straw. ‘So that’s your ex-stepmother?’
Annabelle returned the pot of risotto to the stove. ‘I’d hardly call her that. I didn’t even know her when she was married to my father. I was away at boarding school that year. By the time I got back, it was over.’ She began to dress a salad in a large glass bowl with frosted bunches of grapes engraved over it.
‘You didn’t meet her?’
‘Oh, yes, a few times, but I didn’t take any notice. She was one of many women my father paraded after my mother died. I got to know her later. After my father nearly killed her in a car accident.’
Jack remembered the scar on Sabine’s chin. ‘Nice they’re still friends,’ he said.
Annabelle sucked oil from her little finger. ‘Sabine’s main aim in life is to piss my father off as much as is humanly possible.’
‘He doesn’t mind you being friends?’
‘No, he minds. That’s why Sabine and I get on so well. We have a dislike of my father in common.’
She brought the salad over to the table and sat down. She picked up her glass of wine. ‘Right then. Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’
‘I’m starving.’
Jack sipped his wine and then tried the risotto. There was a wholesomeness to the food, a warmth to the atmosphere in the kitchen. He had not expected it.
He stole glimpses of Annabelle as they ate. He could smell the warm soap freshness of her shower. ‘That’s the second relative of yours I’ve met today,’ he said.
‘Really? Who was the first?’
‘Celia Mitten.’
The name floated between them for a moment, like the steam from the risotto. Annabelle looked down into her plate and teased the rice with her fork. ‘What did Celia Mitten want?’ She tried to sound casual, but it did not come out that way.
‘She wanted me to stop selling the Edward Kass books to your father.’
‘What?’
Jack picked up his glass. He regretted that he had brought it up. The wholesome atmosphere went up the extractor fan and blew out into the night. ‘She thinks your father’s burning Edward Kass’s books.’
Annabelle put her fork down and wiped her mouth with a napkin. Jack had been expecting a more shocked expression. But then, what did he know? He supposed you could burn whatever the hell you wanted to burn when you were rich.
‘Do you believe her?’ Annabelle’s voice was low, cautious.
‘Should I?’
She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was clear and sharp and hot. ‘Celia Mitten is a vindictive, hostile, evil bitch. I wouldn’t believe what she said if it passed a lie-detector test.’ She sounded pretty adamant.
‘Why would she spin something like that then?’
Annabelle stood up. The cutlery on the table rattled. ‘Have you got a cigarette?’ she asked, impatiently. ‘The risotto needs to cool down, it’s too hot.’
‘Sure.’ Jack reached into his jacket hanging on the chair and took out his pack and a lighter.
Annabelle opened the glass doors onto the patio. Jack