Good Deed Bad Deed, Marcia Morgan [summer beach reads TXT] 📗

“Now that I’ve been fed, I really need to get home and clean up.” He paused for a moment, expecting a response from Ana, but she was waiting for what might come next. Continuing, he said, “I’m sure you have some sort of work to attend to … maybe report in, or do some shopping.”

Ana realized that they were at the point of going their separate ways. The prospect bothered her even though she knew they would meet again for the interview. “As a matter of fact,” she said a little too brightly, deflecting her disappointment, “I may as well do a little sightseeing … maybe visit the Tower of London … see where some of the historical horrors took place.”

Ben let out a little laugh and said, “That should keep you busy for a while. You won’t like the queues at the tourist sights.” He shifted from one foot to the other, reluctant to leave her. Finally he said, “Let me get you a taxi. I’m going in the opposite direction, so I’ll hail one for you then catch one for myself.”

Ana nodded in agreement, and before she had a chance to make some sort of plan to accomplish her assignment, a taxi came their way and Ben waved it down with his good arm. As she climbed in she turned and called to him, “You have my card, right? We still need to schedule the interview.”

Ben assured her that he would be in touch later in the day and would find time for them to meet just as soon as possible. He closed the taxi door and waved to her as the driver pulled out into traffic. He didn’t like seeing Ana disappear from view. It caused him an unfamiliar discomfort, and as he walked briskly toward the next corner, he had to remind himself that he would see her again. Once he reached the busy intersection, taxis were plentiful. Soon he was on his way to Chelsea and thinking about a long hot shower followed by a nap.

* * *

On the ride through town to his flat, Ben fought to stay awake. When they had turned off King’s Road onto Sloane, he caught sight of the familiar building and felt a sense of comfort. He had left his wallet in a front pocket so was able to pay the driver quickly. Soon he stood before the steps leading to the building’s entrance. Glancing to the left he saw his neighbor, Mrs. Ward-Thomas, sitting in her usual place at the ground level window of her basement flat, watching life go by as she fussed with the flowers in her window box. None of the other neighbors knew how long she had lived there, and she kept to herself most of the time.

As Ben looked at her, the sun shining gently on her face, he thought she must have been quite beautiful in her youth. In spite of the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, there remained a healthy blush in her complexion, and he was quite certain there had to be an interesting story behind those soft gray-blue eyes. Her white hair was confined in one thick braid that reached all the way to her waist, ending with a small satin ribbon. That small attention to detail made Ben smile. She was wearing a brightly flowered dress, or blouse, he couldn’t tell which, topped with the ruffled white apron that was her signature. She was so often in that spot, and Ben had always intended to speak to her, but had procrastinated. There always seemed to be some kind of hurry to get up the stairs to his flat and shut out the rest of the world. As a consequence, he was only on nodding terms with most of the neighbors. He supposed that she had limited human contact. A lonely life, he thought.

“Mr. McKinnon,” she shouted to him in a slightly wavering voice. “Can you stop a minute? I want to show you something.”

“Yes, of course,” Ben replied, turning to walk around the staircase to her window. “I’m not good at speaking to my neighbors, but I often notice you there at the window. It’s always nice to see the flowers in your window box. It tells me I’m home.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ve always believed that flowers soften the soul.” She stopped picking at the dead blooms and said, “Maybe one day you’ll have a ‘cuppa’ with me.” She sat up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders, and continued, “I’ve read one of your books, you know. And please call me Lilith.”

“Don’t let me forget now, Lilith, because I’d be interested to hear what you think about the book, whichever one it was.”

“Never mind about all that now,” she said, and leaned further out the window, motioning him to come closer in order to speak more softly. “Don’t be obvious, but turn around and look at that square black vehicle parked just there, up a bit from the entrance.”

Ben turned carefully and glanced in that direction. “They call it an SUV. Why does it concern you?”

“Because it has been there too long and no one ever got out. I’ve lived long enough to know that whoever is inside is up to no good.” She tossed her chin back and pursed her lips tightly. Then she furrowed her brow and shrugged her shoulders in disgust.

“I suppose there are hundreds of black SUV’s around London. And I think most of them have innocent reasons for being parked on the street.”

“Well I don’t like it!” Her tone was at once authoritative and timid. “I’m going to call the police to come and see who’s in there and why. I’m not climbing into my bed tonight until it’s gone.” She wrung her hands and peeked around him to peer at the vehicle again.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Ben said gently, “Try not to let your imagination run away with you.” While speaking to her