Free Kissing the Demons by Kate Ellis

the hell for? You’ve no right to go poking around in her room. Even if she isn’t here, she’s got a right to privacy.’
    â€˜Keep you knickers on, Caro. There might be something that’ll tell us where she is.’ Jason began to make for the door.
    But Matt blocked his exit. He didn’t like the thought of him going through Pet’s things any more than Caro did.
    â€˜We should leave it to the police.’
    â€˜They were more interested in that previous tenant . . . Jasmine or whatever her name was. Maybe Pet is Jasmine. Maybe she’s been living under a false name.’
    Matt picked up his phone and tried Pet’s number again. Sometimes Jason pushed things too far.
    Barrington Jenks put the phone down and poured himself a single malt. He deserved it. Needed it. Since that visit from the two police officers yesterday he had felt under a considerable amount of strain and stress was something he could do without. His wife, Tamsin, was down in London. They had agreed long ago not to interfere too much in each other’s lives. But Tamsin would be angry that he’d been so indiscreet.
    Damage limitation was the only way forward. But first he had to know how far the police had progressed in their investigation. He sank back into the armchair and the velvet cushions moulded themselves to his body as he sipped the golden liquid which slid down his gullet like smooth fire, relaxing and warming.
    Closing his eyes, he took his mind back to that evening twelve years before. It had been one of those typical summer days of sunshine and sharp showers. He had stopped for a drink in a bar and he’d seen her with her short skirt and silky hair. Their eyes had met and she’d given him the come on. So obvious. The speed with which he’d responded to the invitation almost suggested that he’d been looking for such an encounter. Maybe he had but it was something he hadn’t acknowledged at the time.
    Perhaps he’d found it odd that Jasmine was studying at the university until he’d remembered stories in the newspapers about students selling their bodies to make ends meet. Some, apparently, almost saw it as a blow for feminism – using men’s weaknesses as a means to make some money. Jenks had always thought these women were deluding themselves but when he recalled that encounter twelve years ago, he began to wonder. Jasmine had certainly been in control back then.
    He yawned. He had been up late the night before at the Lord Lieutenant’s dinner, going through the motions of polite conversation like an actor on a stage. He was used to such occasions and the games people played – the thin veneer of warmth and the subtle jostling for position – but last night he had found the pretence exhausting.
    He took another sip of whisky and pressed his stomach with his free hand. Sometimes the discomfort was almost unbearable but he was reluctant to consult a doctor. He had to maintain the illusion of youth. He had to appear invincible . . . even to himself.
    With a groan he put the glass down on the side table, missing the coaster. Just when he thought it was all over, it had started again. And now he had to sort it out and ensure Jasmine’s discretion.
    He hauled himself out of the armchair and as he straightened up his body he felt like an old man. The ache in his stomach was growing worse. Perhaps it was an ulcer, he thought. Or something more serious. As he made his way upstairs he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the landing, saw that his face had a grey look and he suddenly felt afraid. Sickness had never featured in his life to that point. When his mother had become infirm he had put her in an expensive nursing home and never visited her again. He had never had time for weakness.
    He stumbled into his bedroom and sat on the bed for a while, staring at the telephone. Then he stood up and opened the drawer where he kept his old