Cruel Comfort (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 1) by Harper James Page B
Authors: Harper James
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and
the venom in Schneider's voice surprised Evan. He felt guilty for invading
Schneider's privacy and digging up memories that were capable of producing such
rage. But it also made him wonder if Schneider had been completely truthful
about the happy home life he'd lived with his sister.
It was clear there’d been some sexual
interest on his part which hopefully hadn’t been reciprocated. You never knew
in these small towns. It was obvious that it was him who thought she was a
whore. Maybe he'd inherited his parents' strictness or maybe he was just
jealous because he wasn’t getting what the other guys were. Perhaps she was
locked in the basement as they spoke, desperately trying to get Evan's attention.
Or buried in the back yard for refusing to come up with the goodies.
One thing was for sure; he wasn't
about to get anything useful out of Schneider now. Not that he’d got anything
useful so far, apart from prima facie evidence that anyone living with Max
Schneider would run off at the first opportunity.
Evan left him alone with his
memories and his dreams of a working washing machine.
CHAPTER 14
It was good to get back outside into
the fresh air and sunlight. Schneider’s house had been oppressive and it
smelled like the drains were backed up. That was probably the problem with his
washing machine.
Evan got in his car and opened all
the windows and let the wind blow through. He leaned back and closed his eyes
and wondered what to do next. His phone rang. He thought it would be Guillory
but he didn't recognize the number when he looked at the screen.
'I've been doing a bit of research
into you,' Faulkner's voice said down the line. 'Not exactly a career to be
proud of. Let's hope Linda Clayton doesn't end up like your last client.'
Evan groaned. He could have done without any of this. Okay, he wanted to talk
to Faulkner again, but not now, and not on Faulkner's terms. And even though he
knew Faulkner was just trying to rile him, the dig about Stanton still hurt.
'We've all got to make a living,' he said lamely.
'Yes, and when you couldn't make one
doing a proper job, you decided to stick your zoom lens up some woman's tired
old twat and then sell the pictures to her husband. I bet you kept copies too.'
It crossed Evan’s mind that it
hadn’t looked tired or old as far as he could remember – he’d check his copies
when he got back to the office - but that wasn’t the point. Faulkner sounded
drunk.
'At least I'm not drunk in the
middle of the afternoon.' You sad old bastard
'Up yours, sonny.'
The front door to Schneider’s house
opened and Schneider started walking towards Evan’s car. Evan sighed heavily.
He couldn’t deal with Faulkner on the phone and nutty Schneider at the same
time. He put the car into gear and pulled away slowly. Behind him Schneider broke
into a run and started shouting that he’d remembered how the noise sounded.
‘What was that?’ Faulkner said.
'Nothing. Anyway, now we've got the
pleasantries out the way, why don't we see if we can have a normal
conversation?'
'Conversation? Let me look that up
in my dictionary. Here we go... conversation; as in some interfering
individual, let's call him Mr Evan P-for-Peeper Buckley, bugs the hell out of
some other person and asks him a whole bunch of questions that he's not
entitled to have the answers to.'
Evan looked into his mirror and saw
that Schneider had given up and gone back inside. He pulled onto the shoulder
and stopped. 'Sounds like we've got the exact same edition,' he said. 'There's
just one thing - I'm not bugging you - you called me.'
Faulkner laughed. 'You know, I can't
help myself, but I actually like you.'
'Is that why you're calling me up?
To tell me how much you like me? Or just to give me your considered opinion on
my choice of career? It sounds to me like you’ve been discussing me with
Detective Donut.’
'Who? Oh, Ryder.’ He
the venom in Schneider's voice surprised Evan. He felt guilty for invading
Schneider's privacy and digging up memories that were capable of producing such
rage. But it also made him wonder if Schneider had been completely truthful
about the happy home life he'd lived with his sister.
It was clear there’d been some sexual
interest on his part which hopefully hadn’t been reciprocated. You never knew
in these small towns. It was obvious that it was him who thought she was a
whore. Maybe he'd inherited his parents' strictness or maybe he was just
jealous because he wasn’t getting what the other guys were. Perhaps she was
locked in the basement as they spoke, desperately trying to get Evan's attention.
Or buried in the back yard for refusing to come up with the goodies.
One thing was for sure; he wasn't
about to get anything useful out of Schneider now. Not that he’d got anything
useful so far, apart from prima facie evidence that anyone living with Max
Schneider would run off at the first opportunity.
Evan left him alone with his
memories and his dreams of a working washing machine.
CHAPTER 14
It was good to get back outside into
the fresh air and sunlight. Schneider’s house had been oppressive and it
smelled like the drains were backed up. That was probably the problem with his
washing machine.
Evan got in his car and opened all
the windows and let the wind blow through. He leaned back and closed his eyes
and wondered what to do next. His phone rang. He thought it would be Guillory
but he didn't recognize the number when he looked at the screen.
'I've been doing a bit of research
into you,' Faulkner's voice said down the line. 'Not exactly a career to be
proud of. Let's hope Linda Clayton doesn't end up like your last client.'
Evan groaned. He could have done without any of this. Okay, he wanted to talk
to Faulkner again, but not now, and not on Faulkner's terms. And even though he
knew Faulkner was just trying to rile him, the dig about Stanton still hurt.
'We've all got to make a living,' he said lamely.
'Yes, and when you couldn't make one
doing a proper job, you decided to stick your zoom lens up some woman's tired
old twat and then sell the pictures to her husband. I bet you kept copies too.'
It crossed Evan’s mind that it
hadn’t looked tired or old as far as he could remember – he’d check his copies
when he got back to the office - but that wasn’t the point. Faulkner sounded
drunk.
'At least I'm not drunk in the
middle of the afternoon.' You sad old bastard
'Up yours, sonny.'
The front door to Schneider’s house
opened and Schneider started walking towards Evan’s car. Evan sighed heavily.
He couldn’t deal with Faulkner on the phone and nutty Schneider at the same
time. He put the car into gear and pulled away slowly. Behind him Schneider broke
into a run and started shouting that he’d remembered how the noise sounded.
‘What was that?’ Faulkner said.
'Nothing. Anyway, now we've got the
pleasantries out the way, why don't we see if we can have a normal
conversation?'
'Conversation? Let me look that up
in my dictionary. Here we go... conversation; as in some interfering
individual, let's call him Mr Evan P-for-Peeper Buckley, bugs the hell out of
some other person and asks him a whole bunch of questions that he's not
entitled to have the answers to.'
Evan looked into his mirror and saw
that Schneider had given up and gone back inside. He pulled onto the shoulder
and stopped. 'Sounds like we've got the exact same edition,' he said. 'There's
just one thing - I'm not bugging you - you called me.'
Faulkner laughed. 'You know, I can't
help myself, but I actually like you.'
'Is that why you're calling me up?
To tell me how much you like me? Or just to give me your considered opinion on
my choice of career? It sounds to me like you’ve been discussing me with
Detective Donut.’
'Who? Oh, Ryder.’ He
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