The House Guest - Mark Edwards Page 0,29

She might have her own house or apartment somewhere in the five boroughs.

Which reminded me: after walking out of the Cunninghams’ place, I had nowhere to stay tonight, and very little money in the bank. I only had enough to stay in a hotel for maybe a week, even a cheap one. I didn’t know anyone who could put me up. What were the other options? A hostel? The YMCA? Maybe I had been too hasty walking out of Jack and Mona’s.

I was pondering this when my phone rang. It was Jayne.

‘Hi, Adam?’ She had a cut-glass accent, like a minor royal. I had met her a few times and had always found her pleasant, if a little brusque. She wasn’t a particularly successful agent and I got the impression she lived in fear of losing Ruth to a hungrier, more powerful Hollywood player. She would have been horrified if she’d overheard what Ruth had said about her on Friday night when she’d talked about the action movie she’d been offered. ‘Is Ruth there with you?’

‘No. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I was wondering if you’ve heard from her.’

‘What, since she sabotaged her stage career? I’ve been beside myself, trying to get hold of her.’

‘She hasn’t called you?’

I could hear traffic in the background and pictured her standing on the street near her office in Soho. Black cabs and red buses. I was hit by a wave of homesickness.

‘No, she hasn’t,’ Jayne said, half yelling against a chorus of car horns. ‘The first I heard of it was a furious phone call from someone at Sally Klay’s production company. They’re threatening legal action for breach of contract. The whole thing is a total nightmare. What on earth has got into the silly girl? What’s been going on over there?’

I didn’t know what to say. This was bad news. Ruth hadn’t even phoned her agent? At least I now knew this couldn’t be happening because she was angry with me.

‘Maybe it’s the pressure,’ Jayne was saying. ‘I’ve seen in happen before. These young actors think they want to be famous and successful and as soon as something starts to happen they freak out and can’t handle it. I always thought Ruth was reliable and level-headed, though . . .’

I ended the call with both of us promising to call the other if we heard from her.

As I put my phone back into my pocket I looked up – and saw the man with the grey beard.

He was standing beneath the trees opposite me, towards the centre of the park. I was certain it was the same person I’d spotted standing outside the house. He had hair that matched his beard, cropped short, and looked to be about sixty. He was wearing sunglasses and a T-shirt that showed off a stocky figure. As soon as I lifted my face and he realised I’d seen him, he hurried off in the opposite direction.

‘Hey!’ I called. ‘Wait up!’

He strode away, breaking into a jog and disappearing behind a crowd of teenagers who were walking towards us wearing baseball kit. By the time I got through this fresh-faced crowd, he had vanished.

I swore under my breath. Who was he? Was he involved in whatever the hell was going on? Even if he wasn’t, he might have seen something.

I walked around the park for twenty minutes looking for him. I could feel my skin burning, the sun microwaving me and making me hot and miserable. It was obvious that Greybeard was long gone. Next time, I was going to have to be quicker.

I headed towards the exit of the park, thinking I should find a hotel, somewhere cheap nearby – I didn’t want to stray too far from where I’d last seen Ruth – and opened an app on my phone to search for a room.

I had my head down as I left the park and began to cross the quiet road, going back towards the centre of Williamsburg.

Two things happened at once. A car engine revved and tyres screeched on the hot asphalt. And somebody yelled.

I looked up from my phone screen.

A car roared towards me.

Chapter 14

Something leapt into my peripheral vision. Bones connected with mine. A solid force, knocking me off my feet. I landed on my back on the unforgiving concrete, something heavy on top of me, pain searing through my flesh, a glimpse of blue sky, the stink of burnt rubber. The car that had tried to floor