The Sins of the Father (The Clifton Chronicles, #2)(80)

‘You know he’s still alive, Hugo, however much you want everyone else to believe he isn’t.’

‘But how can you possibly know—’

‘Because I’ve learnt to think like you, behave like you, and more important, act like you, which is why I decided to hire my own private detective.’

‘But it would have taken you years—’ began Hugo.

‘Not if you come across someone who’s out of work, whose only client has run away a second time and who hasn’t been paid for six months.’ Olga smiled when Hugo clenched his fists, a sure sign that her words had hit home. Even when he raised his arm she didn’t flinch, just stood her ground.

When the first blow came crashing into her face, she toppled back, clutching her broken nose, just as a second punch landed in her stomach, causing her to double up.

Hugo stood back and laughed while she swayed from side to side, trying to stay on her feet. He was about to hit her a third time when her legs crumpled and she collapsed to the ground in a heap, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

‘Now you know what you can expect if you’re ever foolish enough to bother me again,’ shouted Hugo, as he towered over her. ‘And if you don’t want more of the same, you’ll get out while you’ve still got the chance. Just be sure to take that bastard with you back to London.’

Olga slowly pushed herself up off the floor and on to her knees, blood still pouring from her nose. She attempted to stand, but was so weak that she stumbled forward, only breaking her fall by clinging on to the edge of the desk. She paused for a moment and took several deep breaths as she tried to recover. When she finally raised her head, she was distracted by a long, thin silver object that glistened in a circle of light thrown out by the desk lamp.

‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Hugo hollered as he stepped forward, grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back.

With all the force she could muster, Olga jerked her leg back and rammed the heel of her shoe into his groin.

‘You bitch,’ screamed Hugo as he let go of her hair and fell back, allowing Olga a split second to grab the letter opener and conceal it inside the sleeve of her dress. She turned to face her tormentor. When Hugo had caught his breath, he once again moved towards her. As he passed a side table, he grabbed a heavy glass ashtray and raised it high above his head, determined to deliver a blow from which she would not so easily recover.

When he was only a pace away, she pulled up her sleeve, gripped the letter opener with both hands and pointed the blade towards his heart. Just as he was about to bring the ashtray crashing down on her head, he spotted the blade for the first time, tried to swerve to one side, tripped and lost his balance, falling heavily on top of her.

There was a moment’s silence before he sank slowly to his knees and let out a scream that would have woken all Hades. Olga watched as he grabbed at the handle of the letter opener. She stood mesmerized, as if she was watching a slow-motion clip from a film. It must have been only a moment, although it felt interminable to Olga, before Hugo finally collapsed and slumped to the floor at her feet.

She stared down at the blade of the letter opener. The tip was sticking out of the back of his neck and blood was spurting in every direction, like an out-of-control fire hydrant.

‘Help me,’ Hugo whimpered, trying to raise a hand.

Olga knelt by his side and took the hand of a man she’d once loved. ‘There is nothing I can do to help you, my darling,’ she said, ‘but then there never was.’

His breathing was becoming less regular, although he still gripped her hand tightly. She bent down to be sure that he could hear her every word. ‘You only have a few more moments to live,’ she whispered, ‘and I wouldn’t want you to go to your grave without knowing the details of Mitchell’s latest report.’

Hugo made one last effort to speak. His lips moved, but no words came out.

‘Emma has found Harry,’ said Olga, ‘and I know you’ll be pleased to hear he’s alive and well.’ Hugo’s eyes never left her as she leant even closer, until her lips were almost touching his ear. ‘And he’s on his way back to England to claim his rightful inheritance.’

It wasn’t until Hugo’s hand went limp that she added, ‘Ah, but I forgot to tell you, I’ve also learnt how to lie like you.’



The Bristol Evening Post and the Bristol Evening News ran different headlines on the first editions of their papers the following day.

SIR HUGO BARRINGTON

STABBED TO DEATH

was the banner headline in the Post, while the News preferred to lead with

UNKNOWN WOMAN THROWS HERSELF

IN FRONT OF LONDON EXPRESS

Only Detective Chief Inspector Blakemore, the head of the local CID, worked out the connection between the two.





EMMA BARRINGTON





1942





38

‘GOOD MORNING, MR GUINZBURG,’ said Sefton Jelks as he rose from behind his desk. ‘It is indeed an honour to meet the man who publishes Dorothy Parker and Graham Greene.’

Guinzburg gave a slight bow, before shaking hands with Jelks.

‘And Miss Barrington,’ said Jelks, turning to Emma. ‘How nice to see you again. As I am no longer representing Mr Lloyd, I hope we can be friends.’