Free Broken by Martina Cole Page A

four of the hostesses had not turned in and that the others were all handing in their notice. Patrick slammed down the phone and quelled an urge to throw it through the glass window of the conservatory and into the pool. Instead he went up to his bedroom and had a long hot shower. It occurred to him then that he was waiting for something to happen. It was an oppressive feeling, bearing down on him all the time.
    As he stepped from the shower he felt the stab of indigestion again. This time it was a slow burn. He went to the bedside cabinet and ate a couple of Remagels, chewing them furiously to try and counteract the pain in his chest. Then he picked up the phone and dialled Kate’s extension. A recorded message came on and he replaced the receiver. He dialled her mobile and was once more greeted by voicemail.
    He was getting annoyed now, and paranoid. Was she avoiding him? But he knew that was silly. He was getting things out of proportion.
    Opening the wardrobe, he pulled out a dressing gown. Without knowing why, he opened Kate’s side of the wardrobe and then he knew what was bothering him so much. Just seeing her clothes there had quietened his racing heart. For one awful moment, he thought she might have left him. It had been in the back of his mind all day. He had half expected to see empty closets.
    When he heard the front door slam he felt faint with relief, listening with joy to the sound of her heels on the stairs. As she burst through the bedroom door he was smiling widely, so pleased to see her he felt his whole body would burst.
    Then she stopped dead and stared at him coldly.
    ‘You have some explaining to do, Patrick Kelly, and believe me when I say it had better be fucking good!’

Chapter Four
    Kate’s eyes were hard. Patrick had made a fool of her and she was not going to forgive him.
    ‘Listen, Kate . . .’
    She shook her head angrily. ‘No, you bloody listen. I had to sit there like a right lemon while Ratchette told me in no uncertain terms that I was compromised by the man I lived with. He told me about your bloody lap-dancing club . . . he told me everything . I have broken bread apparently, in this very house, with a man who has recently been murdered - murdered in the club you owned with him. A club run for scum, by scum. So you had better have a good excuse, Pat, a damn good excuse. I also understand that you’re a suspect in the murder enquiry, though no one has actually come out with that gem yet. But I know they would have to have you bang to rights before attempting that one. You’d better get all your Masonic friends around you like a cloak, boy. They want you bad. Even Ratchette was expecting me to enlighten him about you and what you’re up to nowadays.’ She looked demented. Even her hair bristled with fury. He had never wanted her more than at this moment.
    ‘Do you know something, I could cheerfully murder you right now,’ she burst out. ‘I have a dead child and the possible attempted murder of other children to contend with and now I find that I have been sharing a bed with a lying, scheming bastard. You promised me, Pat, you swore that your days of ducking and diving were over. I must have been bloody mad to have ever believed one word that came out of your mouth. You said that the sex game was over, remember? Over and done with. Now I find out you’re involved with murderers and whores as usual . . .’
    ‘The lap-dancing club is perfectly legal,’ he said lamely.
    She nodded furiously. ‘Oh, I’m aware of that. Don’t try and tell me the law, arsehole. I know the bloody law, boy. But it is morally wrong and you know it. You know I constantly have to deal with the fallout of what people like you do in their legal businesses. I’ve got a prostitute in a cell in Grantley nick, thanks to people like you. After Mandy, and that murdering bastard Markham’s taste for porn and easy sex, I thought you might have finally learned something about the so-called legal business