CHAPTER TWO

      JESSICA looked at her watch, stretched, and debated whether she should telephone Bruno Carr or not It was eight o’clock, she was still at work, and she needed information. If she was to win this case, she thought with a sense of self-righteous indignation, then he would have to be more available to answer questions. For the past week he had been abroad on business, and, however much information she could gather from various members of various departments, sooner or later he would have to avail himself.

      She eyed the phone warily, as though fearing that it might metamorphose into something unpleasant at any moment, then, making her mind up, she dialled his direct work extension and was on the verge of hanging up when she heard his voice down the other end.

      Irrationally, she felt a flutter of nerves.

      ‘Mr Carr? This is Jessica Steam here. I’ve been trying to reach you for the past week, but I gather you’ve been away on business.’

      ‘New York.’

      ‘Well, I’m glad you’re back because there are one or two questions I need to ask you.’ She shuffled some bits of paper in front of her, then began to doodle on her notepad.

      ‘Fire away.’

      ‘I think it might be better if this is done face to face. It’s important that you familiarise yourself with every aspect of the case so that every question that’s thrown at you on the stand can be dealt with.’

      ‘It wasn’t my intention to go into the witness box unprepared,’ he said dryly.

      ‘Perhaps we could meet some time tomorrow?’ she asked, glancing at her diary.

      ‘Why not now?’

      ‘Now?’

      ‘I take it you’re still at work.’

      ‘Yes, I am, but—’

      ‘No time like the present. Now, do you know the address of my office here?’ He rattled it off, and she hurriedly scribbled it alongside her complicated doodle. ‘Get a cab. You’ll get here quicker.’

      ‘Yes, but—’

      She heard the flat hum of the dialling tone and stared at the receiver in her hand with an expression of stunned amazement. He’d hung up on her! He’d decided that now was as good a time to answer questions as any, and hadn’t even had the common politeness to ask her what her plans for the evening might be!

      Was he so used to getting his own way that he simply took it for granted that the rest of the human race would fall in with whatever he wanted?

      She stood up, slipped on her jacket and coat, grabbed her handbag from the low, square table in the corner of her office and hurried out of the building.

      The more she thought about his attitude, the more exasperated she became. She could very nearly convince herself that she had really had exciting plans for the evening, when in fact her plans had included no more than a quick, pre-prepared meal in front of the television, a few law articles she wanted to have a look at, and then bed.

      Hardly heady stuff, she knew, but she had been working since eight-thirty in the morning, and a low-key evening was just what she felt she needed.

      It didn’t help that she had to trudge two blocks and wait fifteen minutes before she managed to hail a taxi. Thursday nights were always busy. Late-night shopping and the remnants of the January sales were enough to encourage even the laziest into the streets. She watched as taxi after taxi trundled past and was in a thoroughly foul temper by the time a vacant one pulled over to the side for her.

      I need a long soak in a bath, she fumed silently to herself, staring out of the window at the bright lights and the people, hurrying along to minimise the length of time they spent in the cold. Her suit felt starched and uncomfortable, her make-up had almost vanished completely and she wanted to kick off her shoes and let her feet breathe.

      His office block in the City was quite different from where she worked. Large, with a lot of opaque glass everywhere, and, when she entered, a profusion of plants strewn around an enormous reception area, in the centre of which the large, circular desk, manned by an elderly man in uniform, was a bit like an island adrift in the middle of an ocean.

      A group of three men in suits was standing to one side, talking in low voices, and they glanced around automatically as she entered the building, but aside from them it was empty.

      Because, she thought, everyone else has left to go home and relax, or else get dressed before stepping out to paint the town red.

      Jessica couldn’t remember the last time she had painted the town red. She had a sneaking suspicion that she had never painted it red—or any other colour, come to think of it.

      During her more active moments, when she’d been involved with a man, few and far between though they had been, she had gone to the theatre or had meals out Somehow, she didn’t think that that fell into the ‘Red Paint’ category.

      ‘Mr Carr, please,’ she said to the man behind the desk, now feeling gloomy in addition to exasperated and inconvenienced.

      He lifted the receiver, spoke for a few seconds, and then nodded at her.

      ‘Mr Carr’s expecting you,’ he said, and she resisted the impulse to tell him that she knew that already, considering she had been summoned half an hour ago. ‘Fourth floor, last office on the right. He said it’ll be fine for you to make your own way up.’

      ‘Oh, grand!’ Jessica said with a large, beaming smile. ‘That must mean that he trusts me not to nick anything en route.’

      She was standing outside his office door at a little after eight-thirty, quietly determined that she would stay no longer than half an hour. Long enough to brief him on the details of the case, find out his thoughts firsthand, and then anything more detailed