Free Dutch Courage by Elizabeth Darrell Page B

or left-handed.’
    â€˜I’m not a bloody pathologist!’
    â€˜OK, forget it. How soon can I talk to Collier?’
    â€˜Tomorrow. His complete system has been traumatized. He needs time and peace for recovery. David Culdrow has agreed that I should follow the case through as I dealt with it last night. I take it you have no objection to that?’
    â€˜No, this is best kept within military circles, especially in view of all the recent hype concerning Sam Collier. We don’t want the press getting hold of this.’ Max considered further. ‘In fact, the finer details of his injuries should be kept under our hats. Can you trust your orderlies not to blab?’
    Clarkson pursed his lips. ‘I can mouth-off about patient confidentiality and hope for the best, but the guys here when he was brought in last night might already have spread the news as fast as the other titillating piece of gossip.’ He gave Max a straight look. ‘We’ve stopped answering the phone, and we’ve kept the children home from school. Ria and I don’t see why they should suffer the taunts and abuse created by their lying friend.’ He made to leave. ‘I’ll check on Collier at regular intervals. Between visits I’ll be at home and available on my mobile number, should you need to contact me.’
    Tom experienced a ridiculous sense of excitement at the prospect of seeing Margot Collier again. She had appealed to him for help yesterday morning. How much more anxious for reassurance would she be today? The physical attack on Sam Collier must have been the next step in the campaign against them and it seemed, to Tom, to send a message of either-or.
    It also vindicated his own assessment of the seriousness of the harassment. Max had clearly imagined he was swayed by the beauty of Margot Collier, hence the comment about bread being toasted by his body heat. Yet Tom sensed there was another reason for Max’s present mood, and it was not hard to guess it also concerned a woman. They played havoc with a man’s concentration on his work.
    Tom knocked and was struck anew by the arresting quality of Margot Collier’s features, when she opened the door almost immediately. Her healthy tan belied the fear and anxiety in her eyes and the tenseness around her mouth. Yesterday, she had been worried. Today, she was deeply afraid.
    â€˜Mr Black! Has something happened? Is he worse?’
    â€˜No, no, nothing like that. I’d like to talk to you about what happened last night. May I come in?’
    She stepped back to allow him to pass, and he was immediately aware that this was unlike the usual junior officer’s abode. A graceful, exquisite bronze ballerina stood on a marquetry table in the hall, both of which screamed wealth . Hanging on the sitting-room walls in pale frames were what looked like the images on the paper dress patterns that Nora used. Hardly pictures, though.
    â€˜I’m a costume designer.’ Tom swung round at her words. ‘Those are some I created for Ballet Romayne’s production of Eugene Onegin.’ She gazed steadily at him. ‘I’m not just a poor little rich girl, you know.’
    â€˜My wife would love to see those. She makes wedding and evening dresses. Just a hobby,’ he explained awkwardly. ‘She’s had no professional training.’
    â€˜You wanted to talk about last night. I wish you had waited before tackling Sam yesterday. Couldn’t you realize how humiliating it would be for him before I had had time to break the news in gentler fashion?’ She sank gracefully on to a padded stool Tom reckoned had come from an antique shop in Chelsea. ‘I went to your office directly from the incident on the road. I was shaken and maybe too hasty. I didn’t dream you’d race off to confront Sam the minute he landed. I told you his job is very hazardous. Are you aware of the number of lives lost in Lynx crashes?