Читать книгу Death By Email - Carol Hadley - Страница 13

It’s funny how Smith’s hands kept appearing in my doodles that day. The memory persisted of his enlarged knuckles, the awful distortion in those twisted fingers. I couldn’t get the image out of my mind, or his obvious pain, which troubled my overactive imagination.

Maybe the pain was what made him so disagreeable, so intent upon convicting me without a trial.

While I worked my way through the stack of ads, many only needing to be updated, a nosebleed turned a perfectly crummy day into a really bad one. First, one bright red drop splattered on a finished panel. I looked down and discovered streams of blood staining my favorite tee shirt.

I clamped the hem of my shirt to my nose and raced the short distance to the bathroom. Smith, who hadn’t witnessed the reason for my mad dash to the ladies, barged into the room as I whipped off my shirt. He froze when I whooped and danced away from the icy spray of tap water on my bare tummy.

I looked up at his reflection in the mirror and the shock on his face matched mine. I was pretty scary with blood smeared on my chin and dripping down my cleavage.

Outraged at his intrusion, I pinched my nostrils to stem the blood flow and whirled, demanding, “Do you bind?”

He quietly spun on his heel and left me alone.