Vivien Armstrong - The Honey Trap

VIVIEN ARMSTRONG

The Honey Trap

COPYRIGHT Copyright 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 Other Books By About the Publisher

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Harper

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain in 1992

Copyright © Vivien Armstrong 1992

Vivien Armstrong asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks

HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

Source ISBN: 9780002323857

Ebook Edition © November 2016 ISBN: 9780008228392

Version: 2016-11-29

The Honey Trap

Rowan Morley, big and beautiful, made quite a splash when she went overboard from a pleasure launch into the Thames. Fortunately help was at hand, but Rowan’s rescuers were bewildered when she insisted on denying the existence of what seemed to them a clearly murderous attack.

Even when she was whisked away to an Oxfordshire village to act as housekeeper to two hapless males, Rowan remained a focus of mystery. Meanwhile Aran Hunter, art restorer, chafed at his inability to protect her; Frederick Flowers, retired civil servant, feared for her; Wayne Denny, general factotum of a fleet of Thames houseboats, lusted after her; and Inspector Laurence Erskine of Special Branch, now working with Interpol, found himself involved willy-nilly when he learned that Rowan’s previous employers were connected with a case he had been working on for months.

None of them, except perhaps Erskine, could believe this glorious girl was involved in international crime, but when murder struck close to home it became a matter of life and death to discover what Rowan Morley, wittingly or unwittingly, knew or possessed.

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page VIVIEN ARMSTRONG The Honey Trap

Copyright COPYRIGHT Copyright 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 Other Books By About the Publisher This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Harper An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF First published in Great Britain in 1992 Copyright © Vivien Armstrong 1992 Vivien Armstrong asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication Source ISBN: 9780002323857 Ebook Edition © November 2016 ISBN: 9780008228392 Version: 2016-11-29

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

Other Books By

About the Publisher

CHAPTER 1

Littering the muddy shallows behind World’s End, dozens of small houseboats bob up and down on the tide like long discarded champagne corks. The long arm of Battersea Bridge encloses one side of the flotilla, the smart new towers of Chelsea Harbour posing against an orange sky enclose the other.

It is late evening in September. Warm as velvet. Two men relax on the deck of Christabel : one old, the other aggressively young with bleached hair, his tanned legs gracefully crossed in freshly laundered shorts.

‘Another, Frederick?’ The young one refills brandy glasses and they sink back, companionably silent, regarding the occasional passing of a launch upstream. High tide has raised the vessels by more than twelve feet as if to provide a better view. The Christabel rocks as if on tiptoe, ready to break anchor despite the solid pontoons.

The deck is scrubbed, pale boards evidence of a perfect summer, its perimeter hedged with neat window-boxes beyond which the oily swirl of the Thames slaps against the hull. The boat swings gently, rising and falling with soporific rhythm.

‘What time’s your appointment tomorrow, Frederick?’

‘Don’t you worry about me, my boy. I’ll push off about ten, give myself plenty of time. See myself off. Just routine tests, shouldn’t take more than an hour. I’d quite like to saunter up to the Arts Club after lunch. You’ve got plenty on, dare say?’

‘Nothing till three. I’ll drive you over to the clinic and drop you back at the club on the way back. It’s no trouble. I’ve got to check some locations in Regent’s Park. Tie up a few loose ends before I meet this chap. A photographer.’

‘Another book?’

‘Secret Interiors of Georgian London.’

Grimacing in mock dismay, the old man placed his glass on the burnished milk churn which served as a side table and lit his pipe.

‘Who buys these picture books, Simon?’

‘Illiterates.’

‘Sell well?’

‘Ever-expanding market of non-readers. Tourists, nosey-parkers, hairdressers. You’d be surprised.’

‘Not cheap, I’ll be bound.’