Pretty Eyes

Geoffrey Peppiatt

Description

After PI Agnes Trout repels a vicious attack by an intruder in her New York City apartment, she discovers that other women have been attacked by the same perpetrator. Even though the attacker is known, none of the women attempt to bring him to justice. Agnes's own quest uncovers a brutal murder and brings her into contact with the glacial matriarch of a wealthy family, an enigmatic, charming fixer and a cold-blooded killer. At the same time, she is asked by a close friend to look into the checkered life of the friend's secretive and menacing husband.Determined attempts on her life and malicious threats will not slow Agnes down as, along with help from unexpected quarters, she goes after a killer and a scheming husband.

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 30 novembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528961073
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Pretty Eyes
An Agnes Trout Mystery
Geoffrey Peppiatt
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-11-30
Pretty Eyes About the Author Copyright Information © Acknowledgment Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44
About the Author
Geoffrey Peppiatt is a former scientist and physics teacher. Apart from his family, his interests are playing squash, writing, reading and book collecting. With his wife, June, and cat, Marlowe (aka Bear), he splits his time between New York and Pennsylvania.
Copyright Information ©
Geoffrey Peppiatt (2020)
The right of Geoffrey Peppiatt to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528915007 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528915014 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781528961073 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgment
A huge and grateful thanks to my wife, June, and son, Jonah, for their advice, encouragement and boundless technical knowledge.
Chapter 1
Agnes Trout, Aggie to her friends, woke up with a start at 5:03 am. Sweat ran down her neck into the small of her back and she ran her thumb across her forehead to sweep away more moisture. A sound in her modest one-bedroom New York apartment had penetrated her dreams. It was a sound that had legs and caused her body to hit high alert and her brain to focus immediately. Through the semi-darkness she was aware of, rather than saw, a presence by the window to the fire escape. Someone was crouching there. She just had time to catch the faint glint of a knife blade as the figure lunged towards her bed in silent, grim determination. She instinctively threw the bed covers towards the intruder, gaining fractions of a second as she leapt to her feet, and allowed her martial arts training to galvanize her into action. A high kick from her left leg slammed an ankle against the attacker’s ear, causing an annoyed grunt, but when her right elbow squelched into an eye, the reward was a satisfying squeal of pain. Almost disdainfully, Aggie chopped sharply downwards with the side of her hand on the back of the exposed neck, causing a faint gasp of air and the rustle of clothing and soft bumping sounds, as the attacker folded down to the carpeting amid the sheets and covers. She blew out two loud puffs of air and reached for the light.
The room took on a rose-colored tint as her custom lighting bathed the scene. Aggie bent over the inert form, taking in the thinning, greasy black hair, stubble, pale features and blood from an eyebrow gash, as well as from a right hand, which had been cut through a rubber glove by a nasty looking blade. She checked the pulse, not really caring about his condition but he was breathing normally, a bubble of mucous hovering at one nostril.
Aggie only took a moment to decide on calling her friend and occasional lover, Detective Jack Coletti of the New York PD.
She dialed but it went straight to message as she realized that it was early morning. She left a short message stating that there was an unconscious man in her bedroom and that she needed help. Aggie turned to the wall and took stock of herself in the mirror. She was around 5′6″, had spiky brown hair, and lightly muscled, toned arms, a bit like that Australian tennis player. She wore a tiny stud in the side of her nostril and one in the lobe of her ear. A strong nose, dark brown eyes, full lips and a faint tan completed the picture. She thought that she looked more than a little shocked. There was not much doubt about that.
The intensity and impact of the circumstances were just beginning to settle over her consciousness like an invisible mist. She had, perhaps, been close to death. Was it random?
Did this guy know her? Was the fact that she was a PI, a factor? She turned away and looked down at the inert form, wondering if she would deliver another blow if he stirred. She hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. She was beginning to feel real anger now and, on second thoughts, she decided that she would quite easily deliver that blow – maybe two. As thoughts began to buzz through her head, her cell coughed out the first chords of the Stone’s ‘It’s All Over Now’. She grabbed it, saw that it was Jack and, with gasp of relief, answered it.
Jack said, “Hey Ag, who’s the lucky guy?”
She said, “This is not funny. Some guy tried to kill me. Broke in and came at me with a knife.”
“Ah, not so lucky then. What did you do to him?”
“Took care of him. What do I do now?”
“Is he awake? What’s he doing?”
“He’s asleep but I don’t know for how long.”
“OK, I’ll be right over with one of my guys and an ambulance. Sit tight. I’ll be about ten minutes. If he shows signs of life, tie him up.”
“Thanks, see you soon.”
They hung up.
Aggie changed out of her shorts and carefully torn tee shirt, putting on a light blue vest and jeans while remaining barefooted. Seven minutes later, the apartment buzzer went off and Aggie left the bedroom and crossed over the living area to buzz the front door. Moments later, Jack was at the door as she opened it. He stepped into the room and hugged her tightly. He was followed by another detective whom she knew vaguely as Moody. His name was uniquely suited to his demeanor.
As they broke apart, Jack said, “What have we got, Ag?”
Aggie said, “In there.”
Jack, tall and rangy, walked to the bedroom, followed by Moody and Aggie. He bent over the prostrate form and checked the neck pulse.
He said, “Alive, but not too happy. That’s quite a gash. You?”
She said, “Yes. He deserved every bit of it.”
Moody said, “That’s a Fällkniven hunting knife,” indicating the knife lying partially hidden by a hand in a small pool of blood.
Jack looked at Moody with a question in his eyes.
Moody, a large, bulky, impassive presence, said, “I recognize it…plus, it’s written on the blade.”
He put on some rubber gloves and carefully slipped the knife into a plastic bag. He put the bag into an inside pocket of his jacket. Just then, loud footsteps near the apartment door indicated the arrival of a medical team.
Jack called out from the bedroom doorway, “In here.”
Two medical attendants moved into the bedroom and squatted next to the intruder, checking his vitals. One of them cracked a phial and waved it near the man’s nose, causing him to make choking and coughing noises as he returned to consciousness. His eyes widened as he took in the situation and his predicament.
Jack addressed the attendants, “Can we put him in a holding cell or does he have to go to the hospital?”
One attendant, who had carefully removed the glove from the cut hand, replied, “Might need stitches for the hand, otherwise he’s OK.”
Greasy hair spoke for the first time, “I’m not OK, my head’s killing me.”
Aggie said, “Good.”
Jack turned to Moody, “Cuff him and get him to a cell. Do you need help?”
Moody said, “Two’s better than one.”
He bent down, turned the attacker over and cuffed him rather roughly. After some thought Jack said, “OK, I’m coming with you. Ag, can you come in when you’re ready and make a statement. There have been other assaults and we don’t know if your—sorry—this guy, is involved. There may be a connection. No way of knowing right now.”
Aggie was beginning to feel shaky. Jack noticed and said, “Are you alright? Better sit down.”
He led Aggie to a couch and sat with her. Moody hauled greasy hair to his feet where he stood with drooping shoulders. Then he half walked, half dragged him, through to the living area.
Jack watched in silence and then turned to Aggie and said, “Shall I call someone to sit with you for a bit?”
“Thanks, but I’ll be OK. It’s just dawning on me—what happened.”
Jack put an arm around her shoulders and patted her back. He looked up to the medical team and said, “Thanks guys, if you could wrap the hand and do something to the eye, we’ll take it from here. Could you drop a brief summary into my office later today?”
“Will do,” said the spokesman and they took care of the damage, a little awkwardly because of the cuffs, and left.
Jack stood up and then stooped and kissed Aggie’s hair lightly.
He said, “If you want, I’ll come and pick you up later to come in and make the statement.”
Aggie said, “No, thanks, I need time alone. I’ll call when I’m on my way.”
Moody was standing near the door with greasy hair, who had been watching, staring intently at Aggie.
“Fuck you,” he said, “I’m in a lot of pain.”
Moody kicked him on the shin, hard.
“Shut up,” he said.
Greasy hair did, wincing in pain.
Jack gently touched Aggie on the shoulder and then headed for the door.
He said, “Let’s go,” and, while directing a withering stare at greasy hair, said to him, “question time. You’re in a