Free A Poison Tree (Time, Blood and Karma Book 3) by John Dolan

which he was working his way through.
    He picked up his scotch and turned to a page near the back of the book where in the top left-hand corner was written David Braddock W#2 , and underneath it Feb 99 . He took out a pen and wrote Aug 99 beside the other date. Jim’s brow furrowed for a few seconds as he looked at the entry, then a smirk crept over his face. He put away the book and checked what was showing on the in-flight films.
    Tough choice: Kiss Me Deadly or Double Indemnity .
    Maybe he would watch both. It was around twelve hours to Bangkok and Jim Fosse never slept more than six hours. It was all he needed to recharge.
    Besides, being awake was just too much fun.

 
    9
    ADELE
     
    The girl was of elfin shape, her dark brown hair cut short. Her skin was pale, highlighting hazel eyes already enhanced by black mascara. She wore a greatcoat that was several sizes too big for her, making her look distinctively gamine.
    She shook out her sodden umbrella on the steps of the apartment block before proceeding into the lobby. A small Indian man, who occupied one of the second floor flats , wished her a good afternoon before buttoning up his coat against the unseasonably cold weather and proceeding out into the rain. She had no idea what his name was. Indeed she didn’t know the names of anyone in the block, nor did she want to. The bank of apartment buzzers was anonymous. It only showed the flat numbers. The tenants here changed often, and no one seemed interested enough to announce their presence. The girl surmised many of her fellow residents were either illegals or living on benefits. For all she knew she was the only one in the building who had a job.
    She unlocked her mailbox in the dingy hallway and took out two envelopes, both bills, addressed to Ms. Adele Darrow . She pushed them into her shoulder bag and walked up the three flights of stairs to her floor. The lift had been broken for a few weeks and the landlord showed little concern with effecting repairs.
    Once in the apartment, she hung up her coat, dumped her bag on the kitchen table and switched on the kettle. Through the window she could see the rain was now falling heavily, scour ging the streets and the grey houses. A youth in a hoodie ran along the pavement and took shelter in a doorway. He shivered, lit a cigarette and squinted up at the sky. He looked soaked through.
    While she waited for the kettle to boil, Adele spooned instant coffee into a mug and checked the fridge.
    “No fucking milk,” she said in a voice that carried a slight Scottish burr. “It’ll have to be black then.”
    On the fridge door , attached with small round magnets, was a photograph of a boy, aged around three years. The boy was sitting on a see-saw in a park and was laughing at the camera. Adele touched the photograph with the fingertips of her right hand and said, “Sorry for the swear word, Jamie. Your mummy is a wee bad girl.”
    She poured the boiling water into the mug, and managed to get rid of most of the floating lumps with a teaspoon. The two envelopes were retrieved from her bag and snorted at. She tossed them into a drawer.
    Adele c hecked her watch while she sipped the bitter coffee. There was about an hour before the appointment.
    She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower, relaxing while the hot water ran over her small breasts and slim body. She leaned forward and felt the soothing flow down her back to the Celtic tattoo symbolising a tree that spread out at the base of her spine. Her mind drifted.
    Two years . It had been two years since she boarded the train in Glasgow and ended up in this unexceptional Midlands city. An old school friend had offered her a bed on her sofa until she got herself ‘sorted out’. But in reality, it was her friend, Nicola, who needed sorting out. She was high on drugs most of the time – cocaine when she could afford it – and after Adele found a checkout job at a discount store she had moved into her own place at